A mystery, mixed with fear

At the movement disorder clinic, yesterday, I saw a gentleman come into the waiting room and sit down. His right hand danced non stop the entire time and I wondered...(a) was he not on medication (b) was he on medication but it didn't work or (c) had he been taking medication, but it no longer worked? I hope it was (a) because he looked most uncomfortable and I knew I did not want to look like that in the future as I would if it were (b) or (c).

I can live with a defaced red face better than I can with my hand going crazy like his.

I must build a dam to hold back the tsunami of fear that haunts my imagination.

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd. (Voltaire)

Well, it is a certainty. I just returned from the Movement Disorder Clinic and a third doctor confirmed what I already knew - I have parkinson's. There can be no doubt. I have most of the required markers:

1. slowness of movement - sometimes, especially when I stand up and begin to
move. Once I am moving, I am normal
2. tremor - check. My hand has a mind of its own when I am not medicated.
3. stiff muscles - check. Getting out of bed is a chore.
4. poor balance - not really, but once or twice I have wondered.

The most telling marker is the fact that the medication I take is widely used in PD and for me, it works. If it works, you probably have PD.

Other secondary symptoms I have (or have had). Constipation - which in my case is a blessing - no more runner's diarrhea. Excessive saliva - sometimes. Difficulty swallowing - about a year ago or so for a couple of weeks. Change in voice - I am sounding like Mel Torme - the velvet fog - but with strep throat. Cramped handwriting - keeps getting worse. Dry skin on the face and scalp - yep, got that too.

I have been lucky to date. I lived a charmed life and thought continued luck was a sure thing. The only sure thing about luck is it can change without notice.

Oh well!

Cold but with a touch of warmth

Winter arrived yesterday. I awoke to an inch of snow. I went for my early morning walk anyway and found it (a) a little slippery and (b) a touch chilly. In fact, after an hour, I was downright cold. Fortunately, except for the odd twitch in my right hand, and the rash on my face, I had no other PD symptoms, such as wobbly legs, and made the couple of miles quite easily. When I got home, I passed a mirror and saw a face made red by the rash and the cold.

On the upside, I got a facebook message from a lovely lady who I taught in grades 7 and 8 about 35 years ago. She told me her father had suffered with PD for 25 years. Hearing that gives me hope that my PD will drag its feet and I will get a good 20 years before ........ She has also been involved in the PD cause for many years. We need more people like her. I hope to get together with her the next time I am in Toronto.

Defacing a face

I have discovered another little "joy" of PD and PD medication, A RASH, and it is on my face. Parts of my face look like they did during my teens except that the rash is combined with my aging cheeks - ie - jowls that are taking on the appearance of the wax on a candle left burning. It is not a pretty picture. However, I'd rather have the rash than the shakes so I will avoid looking in mirrors.

I told my doctor I broke my leg in two places and he told me to quit going to those places. (Henny Youngman)

At times, my right leg seems not to work as well as it used to. It feels kind of "dead". It doesn't interfere with running or walking, rather it just feels odd. Fortunately, this dead feeling is not present all the time, which leads me to think I am becoming a hypochondriac, obsessed with differences in my body that I would have ignored otherwise.

Here is a scary fact. According to statistics, there are nearly 100,000 people living with Parkinson’s in Canada. This number is expected to double by the year 2016.

So fellow baby boomers be aware, as you grow older, the risk of developing parkinson's increases greatly.

Old age ain't no place for sissies!

Only the good die young

Went to the funeral of an old friend yesterday. She was 61 years young and, even though I hadn't seen her much in the last couple of decades, I will miss her presence on earth.

I knew there would be a lot of people there, so I planned ahead, taking my medication at the appropriate time and even bringing some with me. Well, as soon as I got in the door, my right hand started up. I pocketed it and made a fist. This worked for a few minutes, then out came the drugs. They were of no help whatsoever. The hand kept on trying to embarrass me. I lasted through the funeral and the hand slowed down as I sat quietly, squeezing it with my left hand. But, at the reception it started again so I pocketed it once more, controlling it by squeezing my car keys, and went to talk to her loved ones. The all pervading sadness in the room was just too great and my hand took advantage of it. I quickly said my goodbyes and left. Within 20 minutes the tremor had stopped and I was back to normal.

Stress and sadness and PD do not go together.

Life is so unlike theory.

Went for a hour long walk this morning at 5AM. It was cool, about -3C, so I wore gloves and a hat. Gloves are useful in hiding tremors. I experienced some tremor in my right hand while on my walk, but it was rather fleeting. If that was all I had felt, I wouldn't be writing this now. I also felt "wobbly". My best metaphor to describe wobbliness is "sea legs". We traveled to and from England in the age of the ocean liners. In our case, we took the Empress of Britain both ways. If you have never seen an ocean liner, you would be shocked at how big they are - but that doesn't stop them from rolling when the ocean gets upset. The rolling of the ship can cause seasickness and walking is difficult. You stumble and roll with the waves until you get your sea legs and then you wobble. It is kind of an ordinary walk except that you think you might be off balance. Wobbling = sea legs. You can manage to walk without worrying about falling, but it looks a little odd.

I expect wobbliness is just one of those symptoms that will disappear after a good mid day nap and hopefully will remain dormant for a few more years. If not, I can always develop it into an Irish jig.