Shame on you Mr. Parkinson's
Dear Mr. Parkinson's,
You have very poor manners. As a child, I was taught to ask permission before I did something. NOT YOU! You did not ask
my permission to move into my body in 2012. Oh no! You took up residence in my body and you began to send me messages to let me know you were living in me.
5 messages
The first message was my right hand had a tremor. The computer mouse was almost out of right hand’s control. Too much caffeine I thought to myself.
The second message was the drastic change in my handwriting. My handwriting became small. It was microscopic and very difficult for others to read. Even I couldn’t read it!
The third and fourth messages were that I began to stoop or slump down at my shoulders. Then I started to walk with a shuffle that would cause me to trip.
The fifth message put the icing on the cake for me. I always had a smile on my face. Not now—I had a poker face that had no expression. Having those five symptoms I was now concerned that something was wrong with my health.
Parkinson's moved in
In November of 2012 I made an appointment with a neurologist. He brought conformation to me that you had moved into my body without asking my permission. For some unknown reason my brain was not producing enough of the neurotransmitter dopamine. Thus I shuffled and walked stooped over; had a hand tremor and my handwriting was TERRIBLE and a stern look on my face because I was poker faced and didn’t smile.
Nanny, nanny boo boo! My neurologist had a plan to put you in your place in my body. Within a few days I walked without a shuffle, had a smile on my face, had my hand tremor under control which made my handwriting to be legible and I did not stoop over.
HALLELUJAH!
With God, my doctor, my family and all of my friends, I am keeping your outward displays to a minimum and you live in my body as kind of a secret. I have enough dopamine with the medication to be “dopey” again. It’s a battle every day but I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
You are present in my body for some reason. Maybe God wanted me to tell my story and others to understand you. Parkinson’s Disease is not a death sentence but rather it is a life sentence.
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Mr. Parkinson's, you don’t win—I have God on my side.
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