I came across this a few years back and I keep a copy of it on my fridge. It's a great poem.
The thing I have is called Parkinson's; it's a condition of the brain
It causes me to lose some cells and some skills I can't reclaim
It makes it hard to do some things that are part of everyday
Walking and talking become more difficult, to everyone's dismay
It's not fun, I'll attest to that; it's not a choice I'd make
It doesn't kill me or make me sick, but it can my spirit break
It slows me down, it can make me drool, it can take away my speech
All in all it's difficult, so deep into my soul I must reach
At this point all the folks who love me begin to give me care
But the sad eyes and tone of voice say to me beware
"Here, let me do that; you're too tired," invites me to quit
And I'm tempted, sorely tempted, I readily admit
But I have to be tall and stand up straight and look the world in the eye
I must walk with long, long strides, and on myself I must rely
I have to speak in a loud clear voice and not start to mumble
I have to ask for needed help, for that I must be humble
So on I go, along my way, trying to beat this thing
Hoping that my tough guy words don't have a hollow ring
This is the way I must live my life or I will surely lose
Make no mistake; this thing is tough, it will get me if I snooze
So where are you in all of this? I hope you're at my side
Watching while I walk my walk even if it hurts inside
Being there when I really need you; I truly count on
I could not face this without your love and that, my love ,is true
By Phillip McCrillis, a patient at The Parkinson's Institute's Movement Disorders clinic.