I used to love finding a carrot in my vegetable soup
Sounds weird, I know
But I’m Irish by birth and my childhood was a very thin and bitter brew , one of desperation and deprivation
So, the carrot was a real treat, almost as good as a nice hot potato given to us to share as dessert.
What’s this got to do with Parkinson’s? You might ask…
I guess that the idea for meis:
If, as a child, I could find joy at the bottom of a soup bowl, while all around me Raging Mania reigned the throne, how can I do that now and how can I recover that approach, how can I find my carrots now?
You know what I mean. Those small intimate moments of Joy when all is right with the World. Do you remember them? I surely do. Snuggling in the afterglow with my arm around my beautiful wife of 36 years, for one major Pissmaker, playing with my grandkids, being a kid without a care in the world.
Never again…
However, because I wake to Parkie every morning and wonder what sort of Havoc I’ll have to endure today, my life becomes an adventure. Will I make my rounds todays without hurting myself or anybody else? Will I be stopped for reckless driving and arrested for my PD meds, which I carry in a small waterproof case? So, I worry…
But smile and the world smiles with you. No?
We barely touch now…My wife and I…
I love her so much and cannot say it again without feeling desperate for her to acknowledge me with ….wait for it: “I love you , too”, in return. So I say nothing. Oh I know she loves me like chocolate, but I want to be needed, respected, to Love and be loved Passionately and Truly in return, not feel like you’re obligated to stay.. But I guess I want to Ski gracefully again too… Play the Prince of Manhattan again.
But how could she not love DeParkiepoet? Why, I’m so cute with my constant Torqueing and Cramping, my Waking and Shaking, my Fears and my Tears. My Manliness, my Confident and Determined Spirit, now they are shadows all.
My Joie DeVivre, excuse my French, overwhelms her. Did I mention that I told her to leave me and go get the life she deserves, the life we had planned together. You know: Dining and dancing, tennis at the club, romantic vacations tours…Enjoying each other…
She even said that the dyskinesia dance I do,( that Voodoo that I do) sometimes turns her on. Weird, right? I don’t care though, any port in a storm.. . Some things/symptoms are harder to handle than others for me. I need sleep! Don’t you?
It’s as if I’m in a sled sliding downhill accelerating faster and faster, without any control at all. As I lose mobility and motility, and my life experience shrinks to where the highlight of my day sometimes is a wonderfully restorative nap, outdoors, I wonder how I can deal with that crap. I see PWP who are much worse off so I can Imagine what I’ll look like soon…
I think I’ll go make soup… B>)