Dear Parkinson’s, take your hands off my cake. Now.

If you’d told me four years ago that we’d be having a new veranda erected in the garden today, I’d never have believed you. Or that we’d both still be working and I’d have put on 8 kilos despite having exercised more over the past 4 years than I ever did in the previous 46. Nope, I’d never have believed you back then. I mean, when the neurologist tells you that you have Parkinson’s disease – a difficult diagnosis to swallow, Mrs Robijn – you’re pretty much certain that your life is over. And yet, here I am tapping away on my keyboard as usual. Now that’s what I call a wonderful anti-climax. Okay… just for a minute or so.
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Young words of wisdom

We all know children, we were all once children ourselves. Perhaps you still are. Or maybe you’ve got one or more children of your own. When you think about it: a large proportion of the world’s population consists of children. Those of us who are no longer children ourselves call those who are: our future.

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Fantastically Un-therapeutic

MR gardenYou might have guessed that I’m not fond of dealing with Parkinson’s a.o.m. (and other misery) in life. Thing is, not-dealing with stuff will most definitely benefit our evolution. Not-dealing means nót settling for second best. Take monkeys. Monkeys are extremely good at settling for second best, which is why they’ve been eating raw leaves for yonks. No monkey has ever come up with the idea of boiling its leaves, thankfully so, as cooking food is the ultimate key to an accelerated evolutionary path. They simply deal with raw leaves, even though it will keep them up in those trees for yet another million years. (more…)

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Fantastisch On-Therapeutisch

Je wist het al he, dat ik niet zo dol ben op omgaan met parkinson e.a.r. (en andere rottigheid) die op je pad komt. Ik weet ook zeker dat het onze evolutie ten goede komt, als we er juist niet mee omgaan. En ik wil me al helemaaaal niet schikken in mijn lot. Apen schikken zich bijvoorbeeld heel goed in hun lot. Ze eten al eeuwen en eeuwen rauwe bladeren. Geen aap die op het idee komt om zijn bladeren te gaan koken. Terwijl het koken van voedsel de aap in een evolutionaire versnelling zou gooien. Laat niemand op het idee komen om apen te leren koken, want dan zitten we straks met (nog meer) apen in allerlei regeringen. Geintje. Maar ‘t verhaal klopt, dat van dat koken en dat apen dat niet doen. (more…)

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It’s been 50 years since 6/6/66, Life, so can I have a word?

  You’ve stuck by me for 50 years now Life. And you’ve given me a lot. A healthy and playful youth, two degrees, a couple of foreign forays in London and Tokyo, a career, the lot. Thank you, Life. You’ve given me 2600 weeks, the last 1200 of which the ‘we’ has embraced the ‘me’. Life - I want to thank you for changing ‘Me’ into ‘We’. For the husband in a thousand, no, a million, the one and only. For the happiness our children bring. Words fail me, Life. You’ve given parents, brothers and sisters, Life. Thank you. And, Life, you’ve given us friends, because you knew only too well how much we, okay, I in particular, love to talk with friends. Ah, remember that imaginary contract of mine? Well, let’s forget all about it. What’s the point of contracts when they don’t even exist. Between you and me, Life: you're a real…

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Parkinson in gewone autotaal

De monteur kijkt alsof hij allang weet wat je gaat zeggen, maar hij wil het van jou horen. Dus je graaft eens in je geheugen. Ja ik weet het weer, toen in Frankrijk, op de snelweg. Ik wou even inhalen, maar de schakelbak reageerde niet snel genoeg, ik bedoel, ik had netjes de koppeling ingetrapt, richting aangegeven, spiegel gekeken maar er gebeurde niks, tenminste, niet snel genoeg. Nou ja het is gelukkig goed afgelopen, maar dat schakelen is daarna niet meer hetzelfde geweest. Trouwens, ook het stuur is gek, dan weet ik toch zeker dat ik alles onder controle heb en rechtdoor ga, schamp ik ineens langs de stoeprand. En ik moet zeggen, bij hogere snelheid, als ik 'm lekker in z'n vijf gooi, lijkt het net alsof de motor begint te trillen. Oja en de zijspiegels. Ik zet ze altijd precies goed, maar de laatste tijd blijft de rechterspiegel…

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⭐︎ Sorry. You’re the 50.000th visitor.

Bergamo, poort
Fotografie Wim Rozenberg

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?

 

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Fitting Room SatNav

Ohhhh! Did you hear about Verstappen? Great man, but this last race, I don’t know. Did you know he lives in the same apartment block as erm, what’s his name? Strange state of affairs that, if you ask me. Could swear my hay fever is getting worse every year… but know what I love about shopping? Going for a meal. Don’t you? But where’s the wife, she just can’t seem to get enough of it. – The two friends were saying to each other, patiently waiting on on a bench outside a shop.

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Immepashok

Verstappen, man, geweldig en waar zijn de vrouwen? Ja en Verstappen die woont dus in hetzelfde appartementengebouw als hoeheetdie, toch wel raar, vind je niet. Man, die hooikoorts, lijkt wel of het elk jaar erger is, maar weet je wat ik dan weer wel leuk vind aan dat winkelen, dat we straks even lekker een happie gaan eten, toch, jij niet? Maar waar die vrouwen blijven, die kunnen er geen genoeg van krijgen.

Hoorde ik twee vrienden tegen elkaar zeggen op ‘t bankje voor een winkel.

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Yes or No. Remembering WWII.

Every year, on 4th May, we go to the ‘Eerebegraafplaats Bloemendaal’, to visit the grave of my grandfather, Hilbert van Dijk. Shot in the dunes on 16th July 1944, along with the Post boys and a number of other young men. Up until 2008, I could still call my grandmother, when standing at Opa's grave - she lived to almost 102. She was, just like her husband, a brave, extraordinarily brave, member of the Resistance. And when you make that silent march through the dunes to the 'Honorary Cemetery' and stand shivering slightly by the grave, then it’s almost as if you too are just a little bit brave. Not that our pain is anywhere near their pain or fear. Let's face it, you jump in your car, pop on some music, bar of chocolate for the journey. Pompidom, wonder who’ll turn up this year? How very different from what…

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S’nosnikrap

I remember it so well - what it was like before, when we were not yet – when I was not yet – and before they, before anyone. Others have long since forgotten what it was like before and might think I’ve always been like this. They’ve got used to it, they hardly ever think of what you were like before.     Before and After You do. You think in terms of Before and After. Problem is: there’s nothing in between that 'Before and After.' It happened just like that, all they said was a hasty: "Here ... catch!" and that was that. You suddenly landed into the world of ‘After’, too scared to even open your eyes in that entirely new world, cautiously peeking through one eye, to make sure that your family was still around, a bit later you dare to check who else is there. Huh?…

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Nosnikrap

Ik weet nog zo goed hoe het daarvóór was, toen we nog niet en toen ik nog niet en toen zij nog niet en toen niemand nog niet. Iemand anders is allang vergeten hoe het daarvóór was en denkt dat jij altijd al zo was. Die is er al aan gewend, die is er niet de hele dag mee bezig hoe jij ook alweer daarvóór was. (more…)

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