Pushing a Rope

Another unpublishable testimony and treatise to my journey into the rabbit hole of Parkinson’s.

My fellow parkinson’s practitioners

In the interest of brevity I will use the nickname Parky’s throughout the remaining soliloquy. After having endured/entertained Parkinson’s for the past 12 and a half years, six and a half of them not medicated, with the remaining six under the precarious use of Sinemet. The experience has led me to believe the two phenomenons are not inseparable. After being wheel-chaired into the neurologists office on that fateful day of November 18, 2018, I feel I was blackmailed into subscribing to the employment of the pharmaceuticals. The employment of what is known as Sinemet has became a part of me. It’s employment is parceled in 60 minute increments, 60 minutes to digest and 60 minutes to respond and reflect. The use of Sinemet has become habitually apparent in order for me to facilitate any feasible range of fluid motion without provoking the general public to be inclined to call 911 as if to amend my discomfort.

My journey has led me to discover that the disease calling itself Parkinson's is a slippery misnomer. Respectfully attributed to any individual displaying a host of irregular body movements that fall into its web of movement anomalies. Does Celine Dion struggle with a close cousin of Parkinson's, Parkinsonism?

It has been an educed and humbling adventure

My readings and research has introduced me to the word and world dopamine. It is the elusive neurotransmitter and the effects of its extreme deficiency are said to be 80-90% by most neurologists accounts. It has been my experience as a Parky that perhaps the use of the word dopamine has been bastardized. Dopamine, it seems, resembles the illusive characteristics of a vapor. It is incredibly fickle. Easily influenced by the whims of mood and food with the slightest provocation. Dopamine’s presence is influenced by either and is equally intimidated by the general intentions of human opinion and desire. Dopamine most assuredly has an electrical quality to its characteristic a “Use It or Loose It” potential, if you will. It can not be stored up in any significant quantity without embarrassing side effects and mutual body discomfort. Like pushing a rope, speech impairment, excessive drooling, hyperventilation, dyskinesia, and dementia.

The judicious employment of the drug calling itself Sinemet which attempts to duplicate, in the grey matter, the barren substitute of and for Dopamine. Has become an addiction? Is a diabetic addicted to insulin? Are we addicted to brushing our teeth? I recall an age old cliche, “we must manage our addictions wisely”.

Sinemet’s induction into my handicapped life style and the vacuumed absence of Dopamine has become a 50/50 existence of a tossed coin. Both in efficacy and chance. There are times when the “meds” work and there are times when the “meds” ignore my plea for movement. Then there are the psychotropic attributes to the drug. Dementia to some. I have witnessed first hand, personally and through loved ones the psychosis of the drug’s carbidopa component, an amino acid, so I am told (a cousin to LSD?). The incorporation of carbidopa promotes the ability for the levodopa to contribute to the ability of our grey matter to utilize into assimilation the dopamine deserted wasteland of our starved grey matter. It also instills a level of hypertension that teases our fear of existence and in some cases bribes us into become a hypochondriac.

My journey

My experience has led me to the mutual relationship that the disease and employment of Sinemet presents a two headed serpent. To discuss the disease without deliberating on the use of the “meds”, is to discuss the rain without the possibility of getting wet. Was I too hasty to engage upon the use of the “meds”. I have come to terms with the self incrimination. Any effort of prayer will not restore a lost limb or restore the seared flesh of third degree burn. The grey matter has endured too many years of inflammation perhaps? So much so the maybe the BBQ brain cells are non remedial.

I have forgiven myself (sort of). I still am at a loss at what was the turn of events that triggered the onset. Alas, it was no one incident, event, condition, or phenomena. Ultimately, it is the result of five and a half decades of: environmental, industrial, emotional and self abuse…

May the Blessings Be,
tym