This is terrible. I am ready to bravely continue my journey, believe you me, but what about my family? They can’t get hold of me in my current rather desperate situation, lost within the walls of this place. We’re texting, facetiming, and what have you. I reassure them with brave words: “It’s not going to kill me.” Yeah right, that really helps. Or: “It will be years and years before I am unable to walk” Huh?? My family is in shock. What do you mean ‘unable to walk’? I’m scared too. Not so much about that walking business, but rather about…dementia, depression, apathy…not to mention swallowing and drooling. Talking. Singing….
This is really bad. All those symptoms … the next thing I’ll know is that I have each and every one of them within a week. A month tops.
My husband is texting. He sends a photo of a yellow post-it note containing a hastily scribbled graph. He loves statistics, which sort of explains it. The graph displays the chance of me getting each and every Parkinson’s symptom that exists. Which is zero. He then goes on to explain that chances of me getting my entire, personal package of symptoms within a week are also zero.
He was right. And he still is. The first 7 years into dx have proven that. How did he know?
Our children were right too when they said: right, Mum, when we’re adults, we’ll be old and wise enough to help you. And again, 7 years into dx, they’ve been proven right (almost) every day.