The Long and Whining Road

I saw one of the neuros yesterday. He is a good man. He asked me about any new symptoms and I whined on about word recall, my lack thereof. He said is was natural at our age (mid-late 60's) and added that there is a dementia component in some PWP so I was to keep watch on that. I don't worry about dementia because even though the spoken words are lost in the miasma of PD, the written word comes quickly and easily.

I am able to divest myself of negative thoughts about dementia. Why I am able, I do not know. After all, I watched my father slip into the quietness of Alzheimer's and if I can have my druthers, I will not enter that world. I can whine with the best of them and consequently, I am used to getting my own way. Maybe whining releases stress and bad thoughts.

I was reading on one of the PD forums that somebody had just been diagnosed and was in deep depression and considering suicide. Other victims were floored when they heard their diagnoses. My initial reaction to the first neurologist was "OK, now what?" Perhaps my laid back attitude to his diagnosis was the result of an overwhelming lack of knowledge on my part.

"Early stages of Parkinson's" he said said to me, with a serious demeanor and we talked on about shaking and handwriting.

When my time was up, I arose to leave. With a smile on my face I asked, "What was that you called it? My wife will be asking."

And that's when he handed me a page torn out of a magazine, which I glanced at, but thought nothing of its contents. I was totally oblivious until I googled "Parkinson's" and then I got somewhat nervous, but one thought prevailed, if things get bad, you can always overdose on your sleeping pills.

Fortunately, that thought has left me. It will never return. I am feeling pretty good.

Yesterday, at neuro number two's office, I inched forward in my chair, sensing that the session was over.

"Be active both physically and mentally," he said. "Walk. Do the crosswords. Things like that and I will see you in ......well really, whenever you want to come in," he patted me on the back as I exited the room.

I left with a smile because to me the lack of a distinct appointment just confirmed to me that I am all right, 4 years into my journey. Suicide? No chance. Not for me anyway and to the fellow who is considering offing himself, I hope he gets help and reconsiders. There is life with PD. Think positively and get active. Walk. Do a crossword. Try whining; I think maybe it helps and if it doesn't, well, who cares.

A brave man once requested me
To answer questions that are key
Is it to be or not to be
And I replied 'oh why ask me?'

'Cause suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it if I please.
...and you can do the same thing if you please.