The finest question a health care professional can ask. It also happens to be the finest question I can ask myself.
Now, now! Tut, tut. Get a grip. I suspect you might be suffering from a touch of parkinsonneritis. Yes, you do. Not that it matters, but I hope you realise we all feel a little under the weather from time to time. I’m a complete wreck at times, yet I still manage to soldier on. Why don’t you take a nice, brisk walk? Will do you the world of good, all that fresh air. That’s what they tell people with depression and it helps them no end. Now, come on – a little rain never hurt anyone. Come on. Up and at ‘em!
I’ve seen bigger moons, declared my friend on our girlies’ night out in London. The distance between the earth and the moon was tiny that night. And it was a full moon, so it looked massive. My husband called from the Netherlands, to insist that we pop outside and take a peek. A once in a lifetime event, he said. He was right: it was colossal! Quite intimidating. Spooky, in fact. My friend was less impressed. She glanced at it nonchalantly, and declared: I’ve Seen Bigger Moons Than THAT!
Soooo, Mrs Robijn, tell me, what seems to be the problem? Went there on my own, obviously, I’m perfectly healthy, aren’t I. So I reply: Well, doctor, er yeah, I have a feeling that my right hand’s not quite okay, neither is my right foot and I er, I dunno, it’s like the messages are not getting through quickly enough or something. Silence. Hm. Too slow you say? Can you still smell properly?
You promised me a lot, Life. Happiness, success, a touch of fame, even if I didn’t know exactly what form that would take, a family with the love of my life, living to 100. Sooooo, can we take just a little moment to discuss, Life? That’s if you can tear yourself away from lining up yet more surprises? (more…)
For some reason, the thought of losing my freedom of movement fills me with particular dread. Why, I can’t quite put my finger on. When I try to imagine it, I picture myself in a room clad with dated wallpaper, sitting in a grimy chair with a not-so-fresh glass of water. With a straw. And, I’m waiting you see, just waiting.
ID card? Where’s my hospital ID card? And socks, am I wearing clean socks? What if I have to undergo an examination for one thing or another, on that paper-covered couch in my whiffy socks. And he’ll naturally assume (I have a he) that I’m not looking after myself properly anymore. You bet he’ll ask: are you having difficulties getting dressed?
I was 4 years old and made a Decision. The photo captures the moment perfectly. I might have been young, but I decided that the photographer was stupid, along with his studio, the backdrop and everything else. And with that decision came a vision: in my life, I was going to do things very differently.