Growing old is a pain, a mandatory, but entirely legal, form of punishment we all face, even though most of us are innocent of any crime. Growing old with PD just adds to the excitement. Old age is a sanctuary for every back pain, headache, arthritis, etc.....you know, all those miseries that were not present in your youth. Growing old with PD just amplifies that catalog of human woes, by logarithmic proportions.
One of the biggest problems of aging with PD is that, for now anyway, I am experiencing a very slight loss of balance. When I stand or turn suddenly, just for a second, I feel a fleeting loss of control. That's a feeling that you paid for in your twenties when a 6 pack of beer cost $1.65 and oblivion was the objective. Not anymore. It's become my own personal windigo
This momentary loss of balance caused me to bring out the ol' bosu ball and I went at it for 30 minutes this morning, working up quite a sweat but also reassuring myself that I should be able to remain vertical for a few years yet.
Yes, growing old and worse, growing older saddled with PD, is a ship wreck. It's a joke played on us by the gods. I just have one question of those malevolent deities. You wrinkled my face, turned my skin into tissue, slowed me down, gave me mysterious growths that my dermatologist calls "the barnacles of life". And then, just for kicks you gave me PD to contend with. But I ask you, why? Oh why, o why? did you have to take my hair??!
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