Feelin' Groovy

I knew it! I knew it all along! Parkinson's is too complex to be pigeonholed into one of the 5 stages of the Hoehn and Yahr staging chart. I didn't fit into any stage completely. I thought my PD was relatively benign but Hoehn and Yahr had me believing I was deep into stage 3. I am not.

The Davis Phinney Foundation divides the progress of PD into 3 stages:

EARLY STAGE

• One side of the body affected (so far that is me but occasionally I feel it might be making forays into my left side.
• decreased stride or dragging the feet (no dragging but decreased stride for me)
• decreased arm swing (nope)
• scuffling of toes (yup)
• change in leg co-ordination when running or cycling (yup - no longer do those)
• sense of muscle fatigue (not sure. I feel fine right now)
• difficulty completing repetitive movements (not that I have noticed)
• trouble with hand coordination (nope)
• reduced range of motion in shoulders, shoulder pain (got both in spades)
• mask-like face (don't think so)
• decreased or small handwriting (Oh boy! have I ever!)

MID STAGE

• symptoms on both sides (not yet)
• Soft speech (Oh, Oh)
• mild swallowing problems (sometimes)
• flex or bent posture (have to admit, that's me)
• motor fluctuations and dyskinesia (nope)

LATE STAGE

• balance problems (sometimes)
• increased shuffle, freezing of gait & festination (all three but that was 4 years ago - never again after that)
• significant speech and swallowing problems (speech yes, swallowing no)
• drooling (no)
• rigidity in the neck (yup)

Well that clears things up! I am either in the first, second or third stage, (or all three)

Right now, I feel great.

A little introspection

I wrote the first four stanzas of this poem when I caught a glimpse of depression.  That was near the beginning of June.  I suffered bad news and to boot, my rotator cuff was damaged.  I decided, after missing 2 weeks of boxing, that I should go despite my injury.  The people at boxing are either victims of PD or volunteers.  The victims have accepted their fate but are uniformly optimistic.  To say they are uplifting is an understatement.  I come away from a class feeling good.  The class is my sanctuary.  After today's class, I wrote the last verse which I think gives hope for a future.  While admitting the inevitable outcome, I still have a vision of a cure.  I have to be ready.

If you have been following this blog, you will know I believe the brakes will be put on PD and the fitter the victim, the more that victim is likely to benefit .  Just- exercise - exercise - exercise.

Changes

sit over here
come as close as you dare
we'll wallow in our painful review
we'll catalog our woes
into "isn't's" and "no's"
And qualify life's many  changes

 You read the review
Got a question or two
Don't ask if you can't stand mirages
they settle like leaves
on the green grass of truth
that comes with the death of those changes

But in moments of madness
alone in the night
you dream of an answer or two
then they fade with the dawn
and you know without doubt
You've got to create your own changes

Sadly forlorn
you accept there's no cure
and your god is just feckless and late
no time to repent
you need more than that
So you stand on a headstone and wait
   
you are waiting there still
but the night's drawing near
and you doubt that prayer is the answer
no cure and so what
hold on to the fact
 only you can engineer changes

Oh, the drama of it all!

These days I know I really do have PD and it is having its way with me. I guess I am mid stage 3. I have encountered or am encountering the following:

1. Stiffness. I walk my granddaughter to school every day but today I only made it halfway. My legs were so stiff (how stiff were they?) They were so stiff I was walking like an aging Frankenstein. And, of course, there was pain that revealed itself whenever I reached down for her little hand.
2. Loss of Stability. The last couple of weeks, I would have fallen several times were it not for the presence of a wall or tree to stumble against and keep me upright.

Now I wear the cloak of uncertainty. If I stand up, will I trip the light fandango or, will I fall without any foreplay? I just don't know. I only know that the persistence of PD in its rush to claim control, is getting me down.....just a little bit mind you. I intend to keep on fighting. Defeat is not an option.
I can see your eyes well up with pity. "Poor fool," you mutter. It is pre-ordained that PD will win the war. Why fight it. Just quit and admit defeat."
Sorry, no can do. My plan is to flood its path with mud with the viscosity of molasses. I know I can't win, but I can still slow it down After all, the sun will come up tomorrow.