There are currently about 1,000,000 people in the United States who have been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. However it is estimated that about three times that amount or about 1 in 90 people have the Disease, but have not been diagnosed yet. http://www.parkinsons-disease.org/best-parkinsons-disease-statistics/
Early symptoms go relatively unnoticed. For instance, my first symptom was my handwriting. The letter were cramped and difficult to read. Since my handwriting has always been poor, I ignored this for some time. This coupled with a difficulty grasping fine objects, for example a pen or a fork, led me to believe that I was suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome. This made sense to my General Practitioner, because I was constantly typing. That was ruled out quickly.
When I finally was diagnosed, I asked the prognosis. The Doctor said, "You don't die from Parkinson's."
I'm a trained Lawyer, so I read everything, so I found out that it is true, that people don't die from PD per se. People do however die from the results of Parkinson's, falls, aspiration pneumonia, infections. Furthermore, about 1 in 3 develop Parkinsonian Dementia. That thought scares me the most.
So to revisit yesterday's post, bravery is not the issue. This is my life. It may have 10 more years, it may have 40 more years. It's foolish to be morose. I'm not being brave, I'm accepting a fact and doing the best that I can to live with it.
So I'll wake up in the morning and go to work. I'll watch the old movies on television. I'll watch the Yankees. I'll quote Groucho forever. I'll read. And someday, many years from now, someone will ask if I'm comfortable. I'll answer, "I make a living." Those will be my last words. Leave them laughing.
Showing posts with label micrographia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label micrographia. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
November 20, 2010
When did my PD start?
Nobody knows. The first signs that there was definitely something wrong came about a year and one half prior to being diagnosed. That evidenced itself, in of all places, my handwriting. My penmanship, which was bad to begin with, got progressively smaller. This, I later learned is a common symptom for people with PD called micrographia.
What caused this?
Again nobody knows. Sure they can give the chemical answer that "Parkinson's disease is caused by the progressive impairment or deterioration of neurons (nerve cells) in an area of the brain known as the substantia nigra." http://www.webmd.com/parkinsons-disease/parkinsons-causes. Say that to me and I say that, "I thought that it was because I had an overextended Humperdink that rubbed against my Frumpsh." It has no meaning to me.
Is it hereditary? In rare cases. Not in mine. I know of no blood relatives who have had the disease.
My physical therapist, thinks that a car accident that I had when I was 25 may have been partially to blame. I'm not convinced.
When I look back now, I was always unusually stiff and clumsy. Is there a possibility that I've always had the disease? Nobody has convinced me otherwise.
Parkinson's strikes one side first. Mine was my right side. Since I am extremely dominant right handed, I'm not sure we would have diagnosed it yet had it been my left side.
What lies ahead, is retraining my brain. "My brain: it's my second favorite organ." (Woody Allen, Sleeper, 1973). I can still do most things, however my brain just doesn't know it. (Feel free to put in punchlines).
When my Doctor diagnosed me, all that I knew about the disease was that Michael J. Fox, Muhammad Ali and Janet Reno all suffered from it. I asked my Doctor, "What's the Prognosis?" I don't remember his exact answer, but I do remember thinking that it isn't fatal and the course is unknown.
Nobody knows. The first signs that there was definitely something wrong came about a year and one half prior to being diagnosed. That evidenced itself, in of all places, my handwriting. My penmanship, which was bad to begin with, got progressively smaller. This, I later learned is a common symptom for people with PD called micrographia.
What caused this?
Again nobody knows. Sure they can give the chemical answer that "Parkinson's disease is caused by the progressive impairment or deterioration of neurons (nerve cells) in an area of the brain known as the substantia nigra." http://www.webmd.com/parkinsons-disease/parkinsons-causes. Say that to me and I say that, "I thought that it was because I had an overextended Humperdink that rubbed against my Frumpsh." It has no meaning to me.
Is it hereditary? In rare cases. Not in mine. I know of no blood relatives who have had the disease.
My physical therapist, thinks that a car accident that I had when I was 25 may have been partially to blame. I'm not convinced.
When I look back now, I was always unusually stiff and clumsy. Is there a possibility that I've always had the disease? Nobody has convinced me otherwise.
Parkinson's strikes one side first. Mine was my right side. Since I am extremely dominant right handed, I'm not sure we would have diagnosed it yet had it been my left side.
What lies ahead, is retraining my brain. "My brain: it's my second favorite organ." (Woody Allen, Sleeper, 1973). I can still do most things, however my brain just doesn't know it. (Feel free to put in punchlines).
When my Doctor diagnosed me, all that I knew about the disease was that Michael J. Fox, Muhammad Ali and Janet Reno all suffered from it. I asked my Doctor, "What's the Prognosis?" I don't remember his exact answer, but I do remember thinking that it isn't fatal and the course is unknown.
Monday, November 15, 2010
August 17, 2010
I am 53 years old. . I am someone who loved childhood, and in a sense, never really left it. Which may be why I love facebook so much, it gives me a chance to reconnect with those friends who made my childhood so special. About 4 years ago, I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. I knew nothing about the disease.
The first signs were micrographia (small writing). My handwriting became progressively smaller, and more and more illegible. Then I had difficulty grasping fine objects, such as a pen or a fork. My right leg would be uncomfortable when I sat for long periods of time. Finally I went to a neurologist. He ordered an MRI of my brain. Before anyone else can say this, I'll beat you to the punch, they found nothing. So he sent me to a Parkinson's specialist, initially just to eliminate it.
The specialist, who is still my Doctor, recognized the classic signs of early Parkinson's. The masked face, walking with the arm limp by my side, difficulty rising from a seat. Parkinson's commonly hits one side. Mine hit my right side. Had it hit my left side, I'm not sure that we'd have known it for years.
Along with regular visits and prescriptions, he sent me to physical therapy. Two of my therapists, are facebook friends. These are special people. They kick my butt (when I show up), they don't believe my bullshit, and the genuinely care. I consider them friends.
My colleagues (those that know) and my ex-office mates have been great. I had to move my office into my home. My friends allow me to use their office, they give me overflow work, and often wait around to drive me to the train. My ex-officemates, when they moved, took my name with them. They also gave me keys to the new office and make me feel like I'm still at home. Anybody who knows me, knows that I love to talk, I love to socialize. In many ways these friends have kept me alive.
My wife, is amazing. She saw the opportunity to purchase a second apartment in our building, did so, and set me up on the seventeenth floor with an office. I never meet clients there, but on days that I don't have to see clients, my commute is 6 floors by elevator. She also picks me up at the train in inclement weather, and mostly puts up with me. You see, I'm not the easiest patient.
Since I don't have a typical Parkinsonian tremor, most people are unaware of the affliction. Ergo, I often refuse to acknowledge it. I acknowledge no reason why I still can't do the things that I've always loved. I always took long walks. Although I have fallen three times, I don't completely accept that these incidents are Parkinson's related. The first time I slipped on the ice. The next two times, I fell over my own, riverboat like, feet.
Parkinson's patients sometimes act out their dreams.All of my dreams are sports related. I've jumped in bed trying to spike a volleyball. I've hit my hands against the headboard blocking a shot, playing basketball. On five different occasions, I've fallen out of bed. The most recent time, I was dreaming that I was sliding into first base. I woke up, unhurt, but pissed off. There is no reason to ever slide into first base. Furthermore, anybody who knows me, knows that I move much to slowly to make a play that close. I guess that my wife and I are lucky that I never liked Boxing.
My disease has progressed very slowly. Although I did initially get depressed and feel sorry for myself, I soon realized that that was a waste of valuable time.
A college buddy of mine, mentioned that he had heard that I was sick. I reacted with vitriol, "I am not sick." Everybody has problems, but I have learned to count my blessings.
The first signs were micrographia (small writing). My handwriting became progressively smaller, and more and more illegible. Then I had difficulty grasping fine objects, such as a pen or a fork. My right leg would be uncomfortable when I sat for long periods of time. Finally I went to a neurologist. He ordered an MRI of my brain. Before anyone else can say this, I'll beat you to the punch, they found nothing. So he sent me to a Parkinson's specialist, initially just to eliminate it.
The specialist, who is still my Doctor, recognized the classic signs of early Parkinson's. The masked face, walking with the arm limp by my side, difficulty rising from a seat. Parkinson's commonly hits one side. Mine hit my right side. Had it hit my left side, I'm not sure that we'd have known it for years.
Along with regular visits and prescriptions, he sent me to physical therapy. Two of my therapists, are facebook friends. These are special people. They kick my butt (when I show up), they don't believe my bullshit, and the genuinely care. I consider them friends.
My colleagues (those that know) and my ex-office mates have been great. I had to move my office into my home. My friends allow me to use their office, they give me overflow work, and often wait around to drive me to the train. My ex-officemates, when they moved, took my name with them. They also gave me keys to the new office and make me feel like I'm still at home. Anybody who knows me, knows that I love to talk, I love to socialize. In many ways these friends have kept me alive.
My wife, is amazing. She saw the opportunity to purchase a second apartment in our building, did so, and set me up on the seventeenth floor with an office. I never meet clients there, but on days that I don't have to see clients, my commute is 6 floors by elevator. She also picks me up at the train in inclement weather, and mostly puts up with me. You see, I'm not the easiest patient.
Since I don't have a typical Parkinsonian tremor, most people are unaware of the affliction. Ergo, I often refuse to acknowledge it. I acknowledge no reason why I still can't do the things that I've always loved. I always took long walks. Although I have fallen three times, I don't completely accept that these incidents are Parkinson's related. The first time I slipped on the ice. The next two times, I fell over my own, riverboat like, feet.
Parkinson's patients sometimes act out their dreams.All of my dreams are sports related. I've jumped in bed trying to spike a volleyball. I've hit my hands against the headboard blocking a shot, playing basketball. On five different occasions, I've fallen out of bed. The most recent time, I was dreaming that I was sliding into first base. I woke up, unhurt, but pissed off. There is no reason to ever slide into first base. Furthermore, anybody who knows me, knows that I move much to slowly to make a play that close. I guess that my wife and I are lucky that I never liked Boxing.
My disease has progressed very slowly. Although I did initially get depressed and feel sorry for myself, I soon realized that that was a waste of valuable time.
A college buddy of mine, mentioned that he had heard that I was sick. I reacted with vitriol, "I am not sick." Everybody has problems, but I have learned to count my blessings.
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