She (my delightful Golden Retriever) stares at me from across the room. She just woke up from her one of many naps. The look in her eyes indicates she desires my attention. Experience informs me that she either wants to take a run outside or sit close to me as I rub her neck, or even have some more relaxing time sitting on my lap in the receptive recliner. Since I am otherwise preoccupied with discerning the cause and potential solution to the “off time” I am having, I choose to let her out for a mid-day run in the crisp winter air and a satiating roll on the now brown and crusty grass. My “off time” seems to be arriving on a regular basis. The best description of this often-infuriating experience is as one having hold of an electrically charged wire giving off surges that are almost constant from my waist down. The right leg somewhat multiplies the “charging” sensation presenting extended periods of less than “normal” feelings, as though the leg is “asleep”. That leg and foot numbly twists and turns as though they are too stimulated to give way to the desired rest and relaxation. I seek to find a position that allows both legs the opportunity to relax. That seldom comes on its own. I grab one of the pointedly positioned canes awaiting their usefulness and begin to purposefully walk from one room to the other, traveling through the house multiples of times. I use the word “purposefully” with intent (every pun intended). Without focusing on the “intent” of the walk (the intent is to force the muscles in my legs to be used as created) my focus becomes getting past the pain and subsequent dis-ability manifesting more freely of late. The walk has several intentions, however. To begin to restore the “natural” and “safe” walk that has been lost with the invasion of the less than normal stride. The “natural” (without giving it an intentional thought) walk has deteriorated to one that is nothing more than a shuffle of feet that can easily lead to a fall flat on my face. With a consciousness of “intent” I lift my right foot and move forward, repeating the same action with the left foot and thus accomplishing within seconds a stride of steps that if I stay with the intent, virtually eliminates the shuffle. The neural “charge” that has insinuated itself appears to be overcome by the intentional movement. A few laps around through the house and letting my mind be the guide to the intentional steps has often (not always, however) provided the impetus to sit with greater comfort and allow this mind and body to engage a short nap (even fifteen minutes seems to have a reparative quality). That appears to be enough time for the dopamine encased in my neurons to reassert itself, restoring this possessor of Parkinson’s with the relief that comes with returning to non-electrified, better abled legs and feet that require less attention to the intention of their purpose. Learning to adapt in the way described herein is not something I would have ever dreamed of engaging. I learned to walk at the age of two and this aging (and irrational) mind has taken it for granted since then. As I am moving past my anger (a part of my grieving process, I must remind myself, is “natural”) and I am engaging more in behaviors and thoughts that help to restore abilities, I am finding once again that it is the nutrients of gratitude that stand the better chance of unleashing the best crop of peace in the hope of tomorrow!
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