No matter how hard I try to avoid it, Parkinson's is slowly taking over my life. It's the first thing that people ask me about, "How are you feeling, Marc?" "What' shaking?" Invariably, it's me.
There's no way for me to disguise it. I just saw a tape of my interview. I'm well spoken, but I didn't move. I look stiff.
Oddly, I'm not depressed. I've got a perseverance that I was unaware of. Tell me that I can't walk somewhere, and I'll be there. The one thing that I do like about it is fighting it.
But I'm tired now. It's a all consuming, constant battle. I know that I'm not in it alone. Friends, old and new, have supported me, more than I deserve.
I hate the obsession! I wish that for 10 minutes, that I wouldn't think about it. That part nobody tells you about. It will consume your every waking moment.
If you don't have it, you can be empathetic, but you can't grasp the fear of a crack in the sidewalk, the difficulty cutting your toenails, having to strategize the simple act of putting on your underwear. Or accepting the inevitable that it takes two lights to cross Queens Boulevard.
I am 6'2", 240 lbs, physically as strong as an Ox, yet at certain times of the day I struggle holding a door open for an elderly lady.
Nobody prepares you for the mental aspect.
I've met some wonderful people because of Parkinson's. People who fight this disease with every ounce of energy that they've got. If not for themselves, for the next generation.
I'm sure that there are those who get deeply depressed. This hasn't been exactly a happy post. I've chosen to be around those who would rather fight than quit. I'm not blind, I know that it could get worse, but remind me, every day of my life, not to quit, to keep on fighting.