Flipping an omelet was a simple task. Turning from side to side in the bed was once a thoughtless maneuver. Putting on pants while standing was second nature and required no thought or attention. Hopping from the chair to attend to a recalled task was a snap. Flicking a light switch was accomplished with lightening speed. Turning quickly because you remembered something in the other direction required no attention to the process of turning around. “Past” is the tense in each of the previous statements. So many things this “whipper-snapper” took for granted have become the thief demanding attention where no attention was before required. This stranger called Parkinson’s disease has decided to take up residence. His presence is unwelcomed and he was uninvited. His intrusiveness is fuel for my anger at times and a reminder of my grief at what has been lost. I reflect on life before his invasion and though saddened at times by loss I cannot help but be thankful that those years of freedom were given. Today the struggle is not as much with the resistance to movement or the slowness to respond to my every whim, but rather with the integration of what is today, with the memory of what used to be. Each day now becomes a new opportunity to exercise what remains. Placing grief at the feet of thankfulness helps create a path forward with the legs of gratitude.
The streets were crowded in that early evening of mid December in Ahmadabad, India. The court order for custody of my daughter had been signed. We crossed the treacherous threshold to the ashram and wound our way to the entrance for that last visit. My daughter would be soon in my full-time care and no longer a ward of the State of Gujarat. For six months, I had jokingly told the lawyer there that when the order for Ahsha’s custody was signed, the heavens would cry for joy and Gujarat would get its rain. The monsoon had been virtually nonexistent that year. As we entered the dimly lit ashram from the gently falling rain, a clap of lightening descended with a thunderous roar and all went black in those halls of Odhav. Suddenly, candles arrived as we were escorted to the Superintendent’s office. Mosquitoes, drawn by the candle light, were so thick I had to cover my mouth and nose with one hand while signing the release papers with the other. In the candle glow, my daughter, wrapped in a blanket I had purchased for her six months prior, was handed to me. I held her close as tears of joy streamed down my face in gratitude that we were finally together. As we drove away from the ashram, the rain pummeled the packed earth, quenching its thirst. We soon arrived at the home of our host to the exclamation of a neighbor in the doorway, shouting with arms raised to heaven; “all of India is blessed because of this child.” Although much more had to be accomplished, the expression of gratitude and blessing that evening would serve as fuel for the journey that lie ahead. Faith, hope, and love have sustained through the years as God’s mercy and grace have been poured out. ( Thirty years ago now seems like yesterday, and thankful for every day since!)
Puddles arise in sections of the lawn and adjacent fields indicating the level of saturation already accomplished from the nearly two full days of rain. The banks of the pond are holding steady the downflow of water that has satiated the dry thirst of the last few months. Unseasonably cool temperatures add to the discomfort of venturing outside for tasks of even short duration. The usually ravenously grazing chickens in the barnyard have found a few dry spots to while away the day. Newly transplanted vegetables seem to be ravenously soaking up the downpour of fluid sustenance while producing bright and glistening blooms that precede the harvest just weeks away. While inconvenient to this geezer’s agenda, we recognize the need for these times of drizzle and downpour. As accommodating as the soil, chickens, and pond can be, so must this mind adjust to the need for nature to be fulfilled. Often with weather of this kind, this possessor of PD experiences stiffness with aches and pains that deflate the bubble of motivation that lifts us above the prickly terrain of discomfort. This time, we are not brought down by this weather, but rather wrapped in a shroud of healing warmth generated in the midst of gratitude for the renewing time afforded and the restful abode inhabited. A thankful heart now thrives in the presence of a time of renewing and a place of reflection.
She smiled so peacefully as she lay in the arms of the woman who was caring for her. I gently took her into my arms as I cradled her carefully for the first time. She slowly opened her eyes as she stared up into the face of one who was to become her father. A look of wonder on her face turned into a grin of satisfaction as she slowly closed her eyes to return to her dream world. Thirty years later and many life challenges behind us, this dad with PD still adores that smile of satisfaction that arises from her face each time we greet each other. Gratitude fills this old dad’s heart as he reflects on the wonders of the past and the hopes and joys of a future yet to come. Those piercing and loving eyes of a daughter so cherished penetrate to the heart of this thankful father and slices through the often rigid and tremulous posture that emerges involuntarily. Two days ago, we celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of her birth. Reflecting now unveils a mountain of thankfulness from whose pinnacle the view of tomorrow is made brighter.
It’s almost Easter. The new birth of leaves, shrubs, garden flowers and plants in the presence of warmth and some wet weather signals new life that was seemingly lost forever in the dark and cold of winter. The symbolism and meaning of today’s renewal with the resurrection celebrated at Easter is not lost on this grateful heart and unintended host to a neurological disorder called Parkinson’s. Today I am grateful for having the ability to choose thankfulness and to seek the path to a thriving life, even in the midst of what others might describe as a winter. Years ago, at a training center in New Mexico, the instructor shared the notion that living life to win was different from living life not to lose. I’ve grown to understand that a life of thriving supersedes one of simply surviving. That thriving life begins between my ears and touches my heart and all those around me. The resurrection that took place so long ago is lived out and renewed each day in the lives of those who embrace the wonder and miracle that the creator ignites anew each moment.
Leaves are sprouting bountifully on the black walnut trees as the limbs are aglow with green moss nourished by the days of rain. Green is the predominant color of spring tinted ever so gently with sprigs of white Dogwood peeking beneath the canopy. Bearing the evidence of renewed life, the forest and fields burst forth in their multiple shades of green as though pronouncing their new command of the landscape. After the winter of browns and grays the new kaleidoscope is a refreshing reminder that life’s continuum still exists. A thankful heart embraces the season’s bright arrival and beats with enthusiasm for what is yet to come!
Cloudy, overcast and chilly is the morning that greets this Spring day. It seems the ancient ones were right when predicting musculoskeletal dysfunction in the presence of cloudy and wet weather. I once thought it humorous when my grandmother would predict the onslaught of rain, simply by the lack of flexibility or pain in her joints. Interestingly, my humor has waned as the years have brought forth some similar experiences for this host to PD, among other visitors! Old is feeling so new and youth is feeling so ancient. Nevertheless, the sheer joy of living in these moments of observing nature, fellowship with friends and family, and the promise of a new dawn, fills this life experiencing heart and mind with gratitude that never ceases to lift our thoughts to brighter things. Holidays, birthdays, and other special days arrive whether sunny or not, and remind us that our time on earth together is not contingent upon the weather! A thankful heart flowing with gracious sharing with a sister or brother helps remind us that our purpose is to love one another!
A restless evening, an aching morning, and a reflective mood give pause to ponder the loss of some stamina. Sitting firmly in the throes of lost muscular flexibility and energy, I grieve the times of physical fitness and agility that I took for granted. The gym was a ten minute walk to the subway, discovering the ancient landmarks of Rome was a day long stroll through the eternal city, and a five block walk was a snap of a journey. Now, a stroll through the grocery store is enhanced by the cart on which I hang as I am reminded step by step of the resistance from muscles and nerves these days. Sometimes, I curse the pain, as though it were the enemy of my desire to do all things expediently. The thought that “it could be worse,” though true, is not helpful. At the moment of recognition of the pain, I find calling it what it is, PAIN, unwelcomed, unwanted, unmitigated, to help the process of grieving the lost, left then to embrace the remaining! What is the remaining? Discomfort, but not disability; distaste for medication, but not for its outcome; and discovery of what may be possible even if the discomfort gets worse. Occasionally I am tempted to throw a pity party with the honored guests being my pride, my ego, my grief, and my dearly beloved self-centeredness. I tried it a couple of times, but found the guests boring and without any substance. I’ve since dismantled my party platform in favor of a soapbox.
Lying peacefully and quietly with her freshly cleaned golden and streaks of white hair rising gently with her every breath, Gracie the Golden Retriever sleeps the early morning away at the foot of the recliner. Having consumed her morning food and accommodated her need for a run in the yard she has settled down for her first among many naps of the day. It seems like just yesterday that this delightful little puppy slept the time away in my lap as we brought her home from the breeder. She always seemed to intuitively know that she was at her “forever” home, always eager to greet guests and become the center of attention no matter the intention of the guest. Even now, at seventy pounds and having delivered two of her own litters, she relishes her time in the lap of this host to Parkinson’s. Unashamedly, the lap giver enjoys the closeness of the warmth and weight on his often-aching thighs as he massages the cuddling canine’s ears and neck. Poppa and pup enjoy a somewhat symbiotic relationship as each gains comfort in the interaction with the other. Thoughts of gratitude fill the heart as we watch the bundle of life before us and we prepare ourselves for another day with opportunities to share in this gift called life!
The light through the bedroom window seemed bright, even as the closed blinds obscured the view. Wake from a restful sleep led this unwitting host to Parkinson’s presence to perceive that a full night of rest had been tucked into his body between the warm and welcoming sheets. A glance at the clock on the kitchen stove indicated that less than a full night’s sleep had been tucked away last evening. Nevertheless, this mind and body was rested and energized in a way unlike the last few mornings. Aches and pains had subsided and stiffness was less prominent than we have grown accustomed to. Ingestion of the morning meds that has become the habitual norm was accomplished and Gracie the Golden was granted her early morning relief run through the yard and garden. Frost had accumulated on the automobile windows and the grassy fields beyond. Winter’s grasp was not yet relaxed even as several days of spring had teased their way into the region. Internally, there exists today a “freedom” that has not been experienced in some time. It is a freedom from some symptoms that had almost become the norm; those of stiffness, rigidity, “foggy” perception of the day with a bent toward the drowsy. Today, the return of freedom from those pesky perpetrators of ennui and a mind not overwhelmed with the struggle of movement at every turn. Gratitude has been the engine that has driven each day prior, but today it is the rocket ship that propels this thankful heart and mind to rejoice in every moment of this glorious gift that used to be termed as “normal”.
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