My wife thinks that I am obsessed about walking, past the point where it is necessary. She probably is right.
I have been exhausted the past two weeks and it is directly attributable to my obsessive walking. I don't know if I can stop or even slow down.
I'm running from a stalker. When I first was diagnosed, the depression had me resigned to believe that I only had a few good years left. I was obviously wrong.
There is a short window of time when I can take advantage of the weather. In the winter, my clumsiness makes the ice treacherous. In the summer, one of the effects of the Parkinson's is the "flop-sweats." They seem to be starting early this year. In the spring and the fall New York is lovely. So instead of my one mile a day, I've often stretched it to Two to Three miles. I avoid the subway, unless I'm exhausted, or it's a long trip.
I don't know what the answer is. I've been exhausted the last few weeks. I can fall asleep anywhere, at my desk, on the train, in a meeting. This is not good for my career.
Yet what is the alternative. It's not in my nature, to acknowledge that I can't do something. The thought of giving up is repugnant to me. Yet it hurts. The clumsy, almost Frankenstein like style of walking, puts a great strain on the neck, back and knees.
I'll probably just keep on going.
No comments:
Post a Comment