The War

I am at war. I am at war with an enemy that doesn’t fight fair and wants to win no matter the costs. This enemy has many weapons at his disposal. Some days he sends bombs of tremors and pain to my arms and legs so that enjoying what I love to do becomes almost impossible. These bombs even make it difficult to eat. When he wants to inflict more damage, he adds internal tremors my way. Imagine your internal organs shaking so much that you feel you might explode. Yet I fight on. When I feel I am making progress, he sends bradykinesia (slowness of movement) and rigidity to the mix. These two “land mines” make every step and movement I make feel like an uphill mountain trail of thick hardening mud. Again, I keep fighting. Just when I get comfortable, the enemy rips open a variety of weapons to mess with my balance. Walking on soft and/or uneven surfaces like grass becomes a long and arduous battle to keep from falling. To make matters worse, I am unable to walk backwards on most surfaces. I press on.

A crafty enemy

This enemy can be crafty; when I think I’ve beaten the worst, the enemy sends out his army of mental artillery to mess up my abilities to remember events, to multitask, and to find the words I need to relate to others. Still, I keep on fighting.

I, too, have my weapons: exercise and medications. The boxing keeps pushing the enemy back most days. He will retreat for a little while after a constant barrage of punching, walking, lifting, and moving. Even on days when I grow weary of fighting, the enemy knows I am still here. My medications are another weapon I use multiple times a day to push the enemy back over the hill, however I sometimes feel as if some of the drugs are double agents, fighting against the enemy yet working against my will to win with their little side effects like drowsiness, hallucinations, and compulsive behaviors. It’s a battle to the end on all sides.

The enemy has his spies, of course. I know them well. Their names are Lazy Procrastination and Apathy. I understand how they work: quietly, subtlety, and slowly. It would be so easy to give in to their comfortable attraction, but I know their end game. If I let them, they will lull me into inactivity and quiet despair. They want me to stay silent, as silence will surely mean my death (from an inability to swallow). I cannot let that happen, for I fight for something as much as I fight against this enemy.

Fight for life

Do not pity me. My fight is for a future. This future includes holding a grandchild, sharing an abundant life with my husband and family, living as independently as possible, and warning others about the enemy for as long as I can. My ammunition has more punch and positive influence on the battlefield than my enemy knows. He’s blinded by his pride of torture and craftiness, and he cannot see what my fight is truly about.

The enemy fights for death, while I fight for life. He will lose, because I don’t fight alone. Not only do my fellow boxers fight this same war, my family and friends keep me engaged in the battle. Most importantly my King has already gone before me and has won this fight. My enemy’s general knows how this war ends and where he will spend eternity. That knowledge and knowing that I will be free from this war and will spend eternity with my King as an heir to the throne, infuriates my enemy and his general.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The ParkinsonsDisease.net team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

Comments

View Comments (2)

Poll