Ah I know some with Parkinson's too...

Hairdresser

I’d been needing to go for two weeks. I’d tried salvaging it with a little mousse, gel and wax, but without much success. At the kitchen table the kids suggested: short isn’t necessarily the answer, mama. True, but neither is long. So, off I went to the hairdresser. She’s young, meticulous and doesn’t sport a trendy new hairstyle and colour every time I see her. She’s also polite. She knows exactly how to handle my oddly positioned crown and precisely where I’m going silver, or almost silver grey. And she instantly senses whether I’m in the mood for a chat or not. Yesterday, and not before time, I plonked myself back down in her chair. She immediately went to work with her scissors and every now and then, checked to ensure it was symmetrical. She cut a bit more and gave a careful blast of the hairdryer. Then I asked…

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Power of the patient

Undercover patient A few months ago I was an ' undercover' patient at the ParkinsonNet Jubileum Congress (2014). Man, that was stressful. Imagine taking a tour in your future of less less less smaller smaller smaller. I made a point of finding the Gimme Hope handouts. They were there, but not exactly in a goody bag. I bumped into quite a few people I knew, who were mostly surprised to see a real patient at a therapists and researchers event. And they exclaimed: oh, you still look great. I’d probably say the same thing; it's also nice to hear, but just suppose it was the stunningly beautiful Angelina Jolie? You wouldn’t walk up to her and gush: wow, you still look amazing! Would you? I wouldn't. I must admit, I often greet people (people with one serious problem or the other): You look fantastic! Don’t ask me why I do…

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