movement
Relief from the record breaking cold that insinuated itself for an extended period has finally given way to more “seasonable” weather. Yesterday, a bee from one of the several hives down the hill buzzed by as though seeking a handout. Prognosticators assert that this reprieve will be short-lived with the return of freezing cold by the weekend. Nevertheless, this unwilling but accepting host to the disease named after the fellow called Parkinson is soaking in the anticipation of greater freedom in movement and anticipating the joy experienced therein. All those things seemingly taken for granted in years past now appear to come as a reminder that for this dopamine depleted lad a basket of gratitude is the fuel best suited to propel this minute, this hour, and this day. Each victory of movement seems now to arrive with more fuel for the journey and less angst at what was once taken for granted in completing each intention.
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.
Chill permeates the space between the walls in the old farm house. Visions of spring flirt with moments of warmth interspersed with the cool expanse of an overcast day. As sunlight reigns longer each day, opportunities for nature’s bounty spring forth and blossom to bear its fruit and feed the birds and bees that rely so heavily upon it. Each morning brings with it seemingly endless challenges accompanied by equally abundant opportunities. The host to Parkinson’s, like the bearer of other chronic and persistent invaders knows too well the challenges of movement, agility, and flexibility that are daily reminders that what we perceive as wellness is so often a gift that is taken for granted. Beside the seemingly rough waters of challenge lies the shore of opportunity upon which possibilities emerge and flourish. Like the trees that thrive along the banks of the stream, opportunities for growth and change draw sustenance from the roots penetrating into the waters of challenge. The challenge of movement presents the opportunity to test the limits and rewards of exercise. The challenge of loss presents the opportunity to appreciate and negotiate a new or different pathway along which new and different outcomes may be experienced. Not every challenge is so easily viewed as an opportunity, but every opportunity when viewed through the prism of gratitude renders a new perspective from which accomplishments may be observed. The canvas comes alive as the artist uses the brush of thankfulness to create new and beautiful works from the tones of challenge and opportunity in the light of gratitude!
The cool morning air presents a grand opportunity to address the budding new grass that rampantly insinuates itself in the garden beds. Recollecting the addition of grass cuttings last fall to the compost heap now strikes one as an unwise choice. Apparently, enough seed and root segments survived the heat of the composting to become the genesis of new life in the planting beds. Challenged by the mistake and armed with new knowledge, we slowly and steadily attack the sprouting grass with an extracting tug. Whatever the cause, the work now is to diminish the unwanted vegetation giving room for the desired and intended garden selections. Parkinson’s disease seems to insinuate itself in the area intended for living and appears to desire obstruction by its very presence. We’ve determined what its cause is not and have speculations as to what is its cause, but neither help with the problem of its ever present challenges to what has been assumed as normal routine. Just as the planting beds require a steady “weeding” so this dopamine challenged body needs a steady routine of “weeding” out of stiffness and resistance by maintaining some semblance of exercise and flexible activity. Sometimes the challenges are great and sometimes they are less, but always they remind this participant of the gratitude that fuels the engine of perseverance. The weeding, ever so slow, stands as a reminder that obstacles are removed or diminished one tug at a time.
The glistening sun shining bright on the browned landscape conveyed the impression that warmth had finally come to the air around us. A stark cold snapped us firmly as we ventured from the warmth of the farmhouse into the bright but deceptive sunshine. Today the bright light of the sun is hidden behind the invading clouds that hover above, giving the impression of cold and foreboding weather outside. An embrace of warmer air when stepping from the door corrects the temperature misperception. It seems that in this time of season change the temperature may not always be as it appears from behind the insulated panes of the window looking out. Symptoms of Parkinson’s seem to act at times like that of the deceptive weather being viewed from a place of insulated experience. All things seem normal and calm, but when challenged with movement, resistance may show its ugly head. From my vantage point, the destination seems clear and straight ahead. The reality of movement disorders and the ever challenging dopamine depletion gives enlightenment in a different experience and the destination is not so easily achieved. Just as stoking the wood into the old stove helps keep the indoors warm, timely and routine ingestion of dopamine replacement helps to modulate agility and involuntary movement. Frustration invades the undertaking of tasks that are movement challenged and impeded. For times when freedom of movement seems restored in part if not in whole, brings forth a sense of gratitude. What had for so many years been taken for granted is now an opportunity to experience thankfulness for realizing it was and is a gift from the Creator!
A flick of the wrist and a twist of the nimble fingers and the bottle cap zipped off. An agile hand mindlessly poured the beverage over freshly drawn ice in the glass. A quick perfunctory prayer and knife and fork were at work cutting through the cooked meat then scooping the eggs so nimbly prepared into the waiting orifice. All of this was taking place without thought or care about the individual movements along the way. The day’s agenda lay ahead and the consumption of the food was only a minor pebble over which to travel this day. Suddenly, it seems, without warning, movements considered nimble, agile, flexible and thoughtless gave way to slow, rigid, intentional and attention demanding. Accommodation has to be made for the loss of nimble. Suddenly the impatient recipient of diminished dopamine is forced to address otherwise thoughtless acts with time and intention never anticipated as a part of one’s routine. A challenge never anticipated now unfolds. Does one approach these newly discovered boundaries with the fighting spirit to conquer and overcome, aggressively battling each and every movement that seems to impede? Or does one surrender to the inevitably progressive limitations and huddle in one’s own puddle of pity while silently sulking over the loss? Perhaps there is a more helpful way to address the issue? Some would term it as “making friends” with the reality of change brought on by this series of symptoms called PD. Before fully understanding this new friendship, one must grieve the loss of the old friend who was taken for granted.