If 2012 brought death and sorrow to my life then 2013 brought disease and frustration. I first noticed a slight tremor in my right hand when Derek was in the hospital, but I wrote it off to stress. Over the next year it slowly got worse, and I noticed that my handwriting, which was never good, was deteriorating. Buttoning my shirt got more difficult, as did eating with chopsticks. I knew what it was but I denied it, until I finally went to see a neurologist who confirmed my fears and diagnosed Parkinson Disease.
So now my problem has a name and a face, a treatment and a prognosis. I will get worse, but how fast I will fail is unknown. Now really is the beginning of the end of my life; tomorrow really is the first day of the rest of my life.
Maybe I should feel sadness and depression, but instead I feel anger and frustration; I simply don’t have time for this. I am a doctor - I am not a patient. Except, of course, that I am a patient with a primary doctor, a neurologist who specializes in movement disorders, a physical therapist, a speech therapist, and probably most importantly a clinical psychologist. I’m not even taking medication - yet. But soon I will need to start, and once I start I can never stop.
When I sat down to write I intended to reflect on what I did in 2013, so I’ll move on to that. I went to Hong Kong, Thailand, and Bhutan. We moved from Albuquerque to Seattle, and I worked several separate times in Shiprock NM. We took short trips to Pacific Beach WA, Port Angeles WA, and Vancouver BC. I went to my 50th high school reunion. We made several trips to Oregon to visit family and friends. We bought a new car. And we babysat our grandson Oran, who is the candle flame in our darkness. Nothing heals better than a child's laughter.
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