Taking Care of You

imageI attended a conference on Parkinson’s disease where one of the speakers stated, “Hope is medicine.” In so many ways, that is so true. Fyodor Dostoevsky once said, “To live without hope is to cease to live.” As a Parkinson’s patient, it may be hard at times to feel hopeful.

One of the first symptoms that is often overlooked while Parkinson’s is making its mark on your life can be depression. By the time you are diagnosed, you may feel like your whole world has caved in and diagnosis is like a thousand ton weight of steel that has just landed on top of you as you lay there in a pit of grief.

A hard thing for us to talk about, much less deal with as a people in general, is depression. The difficulty of dealing with it only increases when you have a condition like PD, which can lend itself to making depression one of its star players. It can play a toll in the relationship between the patient and his/her caregiver, especially if we, as the patient, neglect or forget to take our ‘happy’ pills. It is my firm belief that if we are not taking care of ourselves emotionally and mentally, it will be a struggle to care for ourselves physically. When our mind is not functioning well, we tend to look at our disease with a somewhat distorted view, making it even harder to handle. Often, the distorted view only continues in a mental downward spiral.

If you’re struggling to find anything good in living with Parkinson’s, is it from viewing life with an outlook of despair and hopelessness? Do you think you may be someone who would benefit from an anti-depressant? Let me be clear – this is nothing to be ashamed of. Having PD is real and so is the depression that can come with it. I have told my husband (my caregiver) he has my permission to ask (when I feel like giving up in life) whether I’ve missed a dose of my meds. I can, within two missed doses, go from having a good day to wanting it all to end. It’s extremely hard, if not impossible, to care for yourself when your desire to keep going is all but gone. However, when your desire to live your life to the fullest is there, in spite of PD, this life can be a a pretty wonderful thing.

How can a life with Parkinson’s disease be a wonderful thing? As with any disease, it makes you take a different view of life. Your life, in particular. Where you may have once thought of yourself as insignificant, worthless, unimportant or any of those lies we tend to feed ourselves, you may now realize that you are of value. Why else would you seek out a doctor’s care? A support group? Because you matter. You may not have worked through the whys or the hows but somewhere, consciously or not, you have realized that your life means something.

Because your life matters, your quality of life should matter to the fullest extent in which you are capable. For example, if you can offer some time to one less fortunate – reading to a hospital patient, listening to a homebound veteran tell of his experinces – do it. Doing activities like this can often remind us that things could always be worse and how good it feels to be able to help another. If you can sing, sing out loud. It’s good for the heart and for those with PD – it’s good for the voice. If you love to do artsy things, don’t stop because someone told you have PD. If you have to change to a different art form, change. Just don’t quit. Walk, if you can. This is good for the muscles, good for your heart, good for the spirit. If only intentionally around the house, walk. Talk to someone. When we feel like a burden, we can often shut down. This is when I find it most hard to open up and when I find it most needful to do it. Talk to someone. Let them remind you of the truth – you  matter. They’ll remind you that you are here for a reason and gently ask, “By the way, did you take your happy pill today?”

Living with Parkinson’s disease is downright hard. It’s a day to day battle of pain, a fight for control, and an acceptance of the unwanted. It’s learning how to live a new normal while everyone else continues with the familiar. It’s learning to realize you matter and there’s a reason you were chosen to carry this load, to walk this path. So, while on this journey they call Parkinson’s disease, take care of you. Take good care of you. And don’t forget to take your meds.

“If you’re reading this…
Congratulations, you’re alive.
If that’s not something to smile about,
then I don’t know what is.”
Chad Sugg, Monsters Under Your Head

Parkinson’s Disease: Can you really call it INVISIBLE?

©2011 Sherri Woodbridge
©2011 Sherri Woodbridge

You may not be able to see it, notice it. But, be sure of this – even though you may not be able to see it or notice it, but if you’ve got Parkinson’s disease, it’s anything but invisible.

I can’t tell you how many people with Parkinson’s disease (PD) say that (when gathered within some sort of PD group), they can’t stand it when they tell someone they have PD and the response is, “You don’t look like you have Parkinson’s disease.” The thing is, for as much as they can’t stand to hear someone make that remark, they can be just as guilty for saying it.

While I was attending the 2016 World Parkinson Congress in Portland this past September, I had several people make that comment to me and except for one (and she was married to a man with it). You have two reactions when that situation occurs: you are somewhat glad you present yourself as ‘Parkinson free’ and on the other hand, you feel like others think you’re faking it.

What, exactly, is Parkinson’s disease? What is PD supposed to look like? Flailing and shaking – acting like you’re drunk as you walk down the street? Parkinson’s disease can look like whatever it feels like looking like and it goes much, much further than that. It doesn’t limit itself to our imaginations of what this disease should or should not be, what it is or it isn’t. It can expand the borders of our minds or confine them.

And – Parkinson’s can be a concealed disease, visible to no one but the one who has it. For a while, anyhow.

Severe headaches, vision problems, swallowing problems, speaking problems, choking problems, drooling problems, smiling/facial expression problems, neck stiffness problems…

Did you notice anything? These are all symptoms of PD from the neck up and even this is not an all inclusive list for that area. Many people are surprised to hear such a list but then begin to realize tha.maybe it’s true. Maybe PD can be considered an invisible disease simply because they didn’t know it could envelope so many different areas.

When my symptoms began to emerge (tremors, for example)  and become more obvious to the outside world,  if I was standing I would either fold my arms together or I would stand with my arms at my sides and clench my fists until the tremors would stop. If I was sitting, I would sit on my hands. This became such a habit of ‘concealing’ my disease that I didn’t even know I was doing it. It took my doctor to point it out to me.

Among the symptoms (either from the neck up or from the neck down), that can plague a person with PD, there are a few which get completely ignored because they are so often, hidden so well.

  • Grief.
  • Depression.
  • Despair.

There is grief for those things lost and for the things that may be lost. This isn’t negative thinking in regards to things yet to come. It is a case of being realistic.

There is depression either from the disease itself (an actual symptom of PD) or from life itself, which in turn can magnify the depression caused by the disease.

There is despair. A loss of hope that things may improve. This can be easy to experience when you are continually reminded by others (or by yourself)that things will not improve, there is no cure, and grief can be your constant companion.

The symptoms may differ slightly to greatly when comparing different chronic illnesses, but the ‘ignored’ symptoms can be seen across the board in Diabetes, Multiple Sclerosis, Alzheimer’s and more. They can be included in an extensive list of diseases that are able and do change the course of one’s life. Whether slowly or overnight.

But, I think that there is one symptom that is unique to people with PD in terms of being invisible.

Joy.

JOY?!?

Diabetes, MS, Alzheimer’s and others cannot be blamed for taking away your smile. Not literally. We can allow anything to rob us of joy, to rob us of a reason to smile. But, only PD (as I know it) can literally take your smile away, causing you to appear to others as sad, depressed, sorrowful, and/or full of despair. You aren’t but others think you are. This is due to the face muscles losing their ability to work properly resulting in the inability to smile. In turn, you can feel one way and actually appear another. People don’t see the joy because it’s hiding in the muscles that are concealing your smile.

I have honestly heard the following comments by strangers and friends/family, with or without PD alike:

– Don’t look so sad! (I include an exclamation because they did in their delivery.

– What’s wrong?

– You look like your mother died! (Again… delivery.)

– Why do you look so depressed?

– Cheer up. Things can’t be that bad.

I have learned (from having PD) that people with the disease can appear to be ‘drunk’, so when you’re about to judge someone who is acting ‘different’ – stop.

I have learned (from having PD) that not only is each day different, but one moment to the next can change, especially if your’e medications are wearing off. You can be running with your grandson one moment and tripping and falling the next. Yes, that’s how fast it can sometimes happen.

I have learned (from having PD) that if a person is not smiling, it doesn’t mean they are depressed, sad, or the like. They may very well be in a better state of mind than you are. So about making those mood observations above – just don’t.

Instead, have a seat. Sit and talk to me and tell me about your day. Tell me about your grandchildren. Ask me about the flowers I planted yesterday or the birds I saw. Tell me about my family. I will more than likely smile. Maybe cry, depending on what comes up. But I can guarantee, the joy will be there just the same.

Another Day on the Journey with Parkinson’s

another day
another handful of pills
another day masked with pain

shaking
tripping over my own two feet
choking on nothing
being told to speak up
being told to ‘Smile!’
wanting to scream,
“I am yelling! I am smiling!”
but they think I can do better
they think I am not trying hard enough
they’re wrong

I am
doing my best

trying so hard to maintain
to hang in there
but some days
are so
hard

the shadows of despair
cling to my heels
darkness clamors for my joy
and seeks to destroy
my happiness
it beckons me to come
to give up
to give in
to the pain
that wreaks havoc within soul

oh soul,
disheartened heart,
despairing spirit

I will
rest in His arms
and wait patiently for Him
that I might
boast in Him
boast of His goodness
His faithfulness

the afflicted will hear
the afflicted will be delivered from
all
their fears

happy is the one
who makes You
their refuge