Not today- The Imagine Dragons
It’s gotta get easier, oh easier somehow
‘Cause I’m falling, I’m falling
Oh easier and easier somehow
Oh I’m calling, I’m calling
And it isn’t over, unless it is over
I don’t wanna wait for that
It’s gotta get easier and easier somehow
But not today
Not today
So when must I take this Parkinsons nonsense seriously. Originally I opined that I would only take it seriously when I was beaten at golf by my brothers in laws. That never materialised, mainly due their poor hand eye co-ordination and the sudden realisation of what a waste of time and money golf was. Do I adopt a grave persona after my first fall when I have rugby for years. Rugby being a series of self prescribed falling over.No. Do I act like an adult once I have taken a gloriously gymnastic tumble in the foyer of the local swimming pool with my children, their cousins, my friend and sister in law watching. Maybe. They should have laughed, I could have styled it out if they had just snorted, instead my nephew told his mum in a totally disorientated tone, “Uncle Michael just fell over,” half smirking half bemused. I was now beginning to see me through other peoples eyes. Not much fun, I can tell you.
I saw myself at this point as a semi-super hero, all my own teeth, loads of hair not all necessary grey, Dad of two incredible children, bagged a hot and unfailingly reasonable wife ,well qualified, reasonably talented and successful sportsman. I had it going on, even if say so myself. I do have ginger hair though!
The Neurologist was now brow beating me about sinemet, which was likely being continually punched in the nose, on a cold Sunday morning with a hangover. I have played Sunday league football, I should know. If changed my diet, my exercise regime I could beat this! Maybe I could juice. The trouble is there is no way to beat it yet, it is presently without a cure. And I don’t expect for that to change within my lifetime. It is worth noting at this point that I love pointing this out to my slightly bonkers Mayo mammy, who wrongly and rather egotistically believes that my Parkinsons is wholly her fault for bringing me into this cruel world. Whilst arriving at this part of the story, I might add her Catholic guilt led her suggest as recompense for the suffering I have experienced (very little really) that she would take me to Lourdes. I responded in a sentence which was long on brevity, and in way which is ill suited to talking to ones mother, even if they are more than slightly bonkers. I consider myself to be a practising Catholic but miraculous waters is a step too far! I think I may have accidentally made a PD related gag.
So when do I take this seriously, the answer is when you are comtemplating retirement at the ripe old of 46 and half years old and have been told brain surgery maybe the way forward. On second thoughts, I cannot be bothered to take it too seriously, my children are home and it is snowing and they are brimming with stories from their day at school. I will take it seriously soon, just not today.
Michael
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