Thirteen months ago, I was diagnosed with parkinson's.
About 20 years ago, I was in a plane about to land in Houston when we were told the nose wheel had not come down completely and we should assume the crash position.
As the airplane began its descent, I just assumed everything would be OK, even when I looked out the window and saw fire trucks racing toward us. Obviously, I was correct. Everything turned out OK. The nose wheel came down enough and we landed safely.
I am having the same reaction to parkinson's as I did with the potential plane crash. Everything will be OK and so far, so good. Nothing has changed in my life, now that the medication has taken away my tremor. Well, other than my pre-pubescent voice. I am working on that.
I hope the person who wishes to die "with dignity" achieves his desired goal; as for me, I intend to live lacking pessimism. I refuse to "go gentle into that good night".
When I do die, I want to be cremated and have my ashes spread on Michelle Pfeiffer.
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