I'm sure that today's conundrum (I just love using that word) is not unique to me. The never ending battle for truth, justice and the American way. Seriously the conflict between the caregiver and the inflicted.
I consider what I have a minor inconvenience. My wife, who I must admit, as a Geriatric Physician, is far more knowledgeable than me, is very careful and strict with my activities.
Let's get the easy one out of the way. These we agree upon. 1) Although I was never a big drinker, because of all of the medication in my system, I never drink when she is not around, and then never more than one glass of white wine. 2) Venturing outside on a wintry day. It's not always practical, but my footing is not great.
Now some of the activities that are in question. 1) Driving. I don't drive unless she is in the car. I think that my driving is still better than 90% of the people out there, definitely better than the Russian cabbies of Forest Hills, who think that a double yellow line means that it is mandatory to make an immediate u-turn on a congested street, and that a stop sign means, aim for the lady with the walker. 2) Crowds, ie subways and ballgames. I've been doing this for 50 years and see no reason to stop.
Strangely, for a Lawyer, I'm not a great fighter. So she wins these arguments. But they come too often. I know that she is presenting her opinions from the vantage point of experience and compassion. What I am saying is that this should be combined with my need to feel alive and too maintain whatever ego that I have left.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
November 2, 2011. Youth is wasted on the Middle aged.
I bumped into friends of my wife yesterday. They're my age and retired. The weather was in the low 50's and they were in down jackets, gloves and hoods. I wore an open sports jacket. When do we cross that barrier from youth to middle aged to seniors? This is not a chronological question, this is mental attitude.
I've known these folks for 18 years, they were old then. That's OK, that's how they are comfortable. I like the fact that I haven't accepted that I am middle aged. (What a euphemism. How many people live until 108?) I still want to run up and down a basketball court. (Friends who have known me for years are now laughing. I was always an unusually slow runner. I ran, a Telethon started. Somebody once said that it looked like I was running under water.) I still want to hit a baseball (That I could do.) I haven't mentally or emotionally accepted the fact that I am 54 or that I have a neurological disease. This too is OK. This is how I feel comfortable.
I don't particularly like what I do for a living , but I'll either find something that excites me or continue to do this. I've no intention of retiring. I can't see me doing nothing. Ideally what I always wanted to do was volunteer legal services for the ACLU, but I don't foresee a time hat I could forgo an income.
I don't know why, if I choose not to, that I have to get old. I know why physically and I know why chronologically, I just don't know why mentally.
Therefore, I will continue to laugh. I will continue to reminis about the wonders of youth and in my mind I will continue to be young.
I've known these folks for 18 years, they were old then. That's OK, that's how they are comfortable. I like the fact that I haven't accepted that I am middle aged. (What a euphemism. How many people live until 108?) I still want to run up and down a basketball court. (Friends who have known me for years are now laughing. I was always an unusually slow runner. I ran, a Telethon started. Somebody once said that it looked like I was running under water.) I still want to hit a baseball (That I could do.) I haven't mentally or emotionally accepted the fact that I am 54 or that I have a neurological disease. This too is OK. This is how I feel comfortable.
I don't particularly like what I do for a living , but I'll either find something that excites me or continue to do this. I've no intention of retiring. I can't see me doing nothing. Ideally what I always wanted to do was volunteer legal services for the ACLU, but I don't foresee a time hat I could forgo an income.
I don't know why, if I choose not to, that I have to get old. I know why physically and I know why chronologically, I just don't know why mentally.
Therefore, I will continue to laugh. I will continue to reminis about the wonders of youth and in my mind I will continue to be young.
Friday, October 28, 2011
October 28, 2011. Walk Like A. Man.
Everybody has been co nice to me, but in one respect I wish that they'd stop.
My wife doesn't want me to fall, slip, trip, pratfall, stumble, ergo she often insists upon driving me places. I want to walk
My friends at the office think that I look tired, sleepy, droopy so they insist upn driving me to the train. I want to walk.
My Mom doesn't rest, when I leave her home until I arrive at my home, domicile, abode, humble chateau, so she often slips me $20.00 for a cab. I want to walk.
I need to walk. Even if it is a struggle, I need to persevere and walk. It's too easy for me to take the ride, but in the long run, I know that I shouldn't.
Forest Hills walking is tough and often boring. There is no excitement on Queens Boulevard. But walking in Manhattan is wonderful. I haven't been to Central Park this Autumn, but if the weather permits tomorrow, I'll take "...a light and tumble journey From the East Side to the park; Just a fine and fancy ramble To the zoo.
But you can take the crosstown bus If it's raining or it's cold, And the animals will love it If you do...."
Sorry, I had to break into Simon and Garfunkel for a moment. The bottom line is, that I could give in and take advantage of everybody's good intentions, or I could keep walking. I choose to keep walking.
My wife doesn't want me to fall, slip, trip, pratfall, stumble, ergo she often insists upon driving me places. I want to walk
My friends at the office think that I look tired, sleepy, droopy so they insist upn driving me to the train. I want to walk.
My Mom doesn't rest, when I leave her home until I arrive at my home, domicile, abode, humble chateau, so she often slips me $20.00 for a cab. I want to walk.
I need to walk. Even if it is a struggle, I need to persevere and walk. It's too easy for me to take the ride, but in the long run, I know that I shouldn't.
Forest Hills walking is tough and often boring. There is no excitement on Queens Boulevard. But walking in Manhattan is wonderful. I haven't been to Central Park this Autumn, but if the weather permits tomorrow, I'll take "...a light and tumble journey From the East Side to the park; Just a fine and fancy ramble To the zoo.
But you can take the crosstown bus If it's raining or it's cold, And the animals will love it If you do...."
Sorry, I had to break into Simon and Garfunkel for a moment. The bottom line is, that I could give in and take advantage of everybody's good intentions, or I could keep walking. I choose to keep walking.
Monday, October 24, 2011
October 24, 2011. Look in the Mirror
It's 6:34 in the morning and I am sitting at my desk. I was never a late sleeper, but there is no reason for me to be in the office at this hour, but every morning I am.
The alarm goes off at 5:00 AM. By 5:30, I stop hitting the snooze button. I'm at my desk by 6:20. I'm not working, but I'm here. I go for the same walk every day, have my coffee at the same bakery, play the same games on line when I want to take a break. I have become a creature of habit.
I rarely drive anymore. My business, like many others, is slow. Can I blame Parkinson's? Parkinson's may have pulled the trigger, but I loaded the gun. When first diagnosed, nearly six years ago, I didn't take matters in hand, I moped. One day about two years later, I realized that I was wasting my time.
My business was collapsing. But this I foresaw. I'm a Real Estate Attorney. Any Real Estate Attorney who didn't know that sub-prime lending was going to destroy this economy, is either stupid or lying.
I sat at closings. knowing that when the mortgage adjusted, these poor people were going to be foreclosed upon. One person, I helped convince to walk away from the table. He had a good job. When we saw the mortgage, it had a "teaser" adjustable rate and negative amortization. The mortgage broker refused to negotiate. The Seller was nice and willing to wait for my client to get a better mortgage.
This happened on a Friday. By Monday, the mortgage broker called me, "What can we do to save this man's deposit?" I responded in my normal calm, classy matter, "Where were you on Friday. You asked this man to pay for everything but the Vaseline." We closed exactly one month later.
SO the crash was inevitable. Yet I did little to move my business in another direction. This wasn't PD's fault. Nor was it PD's fault that I didn't save for a rainy day.
I'll make it. I got a great support system. But without lecturing, You never know what will hit you. Many of my friends have it far worse than I do. I refuse to feel sorry for myself, because I, like most other people, got a disease. I will feel angry at myself, for stupidly thinking that I was immortal, and not fully preparing for this day.
The alarm goes off at 5:00 AM. By 5:30, I stop hitting the snooze button. I'm at my desk by 6:20. I'm not working, but I'm here. I go for the same walk every day, have my coffee at the same bakery, play the same games on line when I want to take a break. I have become a creature of habit.
I rarely drive anymore. My business, like many others, is slow. Can I blame Parkinson's? Parkinson's may have pulled the trigger, but I loaded the gun. When first diagnosed, nearly six years ago, I didn't take matters in hand, I moped. One day about two years later, I realized that I was wasting my time.
My business was collapsing. But this I foresaw. I'm a Real Estate Attorney. Any Real Estate Attorney who didn't know that sub-prime lending was going to destroy this economy, is either stupid or lying.
I sat at closings. knowing that when the mortgage adjusted, these poor people were going to be foreclosed upon. One person, I helped convince to walk away from the table. He had a good job. When we saw the mortgage, it had a "teaser" adjustable rate and negative amortization. The mortgage broker refused to negotiate. The Seller was nice and willing to wait for my client to get a better mortgage.
This happened on a Friday. By Monday, the mortgage broker called me, "What can we do to save this man's deposit?" I responded in my normal calm, classy matter, "Where were you on Friday. You asked this man to pay for everything but the Vaseline." We closed exactly one month later.
SO the crash was inevitable. Yet I did little to move my business in another direction. This wasn't PD's fault. Nor was it PD's fault that I didn't save for a rainy day.
I'll make it. I got a great support system. But without lecturing, You never know what will hit you. Many of my friends have it far worse than I do. I refuse to feel sorry for myself, because I, like most other people, got a disease. I will feel angry at myself, for stupidly thinking that I was immortal, and not fully preparing for this day.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
October 5, 2011. Stream of Consciousness
Who is that guy in the mirror? He looks just like my Dad, but about 4 inches taller.
I used to joke that I had "my Dad's hair. If he ever found out where it was, I'm in trouble." Now I know where it is, behind the bed, on my bathroom floor, growing from my knuckles, nose and ears.
I'm glad that the hot weather appears to be over. Parkinson's destroys your inner thermometer. Some people get extremely cold, I an always warm. The combination of that with a New York Summer, brings to mind the effect that Asparagus has on Number 1.
My wife is cold today, therefore I should wear a sweater. I don't get cold, until the temperature dips into the thirties.
Walking is difficult in the summer. If this weather pattern continues, I may try to take a walk in Central Park over the weekend. It's one of my favorite activities. I like to enter the park by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I look for the Egyptian Obelisk behind the Museum, and marvel about how in the 1880's, this, multi-ton structure, was rolled from Battery Park to its permanent resting place behind the Museum.
I bring my Camera with me. a couple of years ago, I was taking a picture of an Orange crested bird. A couple asked me what kind of bird it was. I said that, "I think it's an Oriole, but they're not in town this weekend." No laugh. Must have been Met fans.
I try to walk over to Strawberry Fields, but if you've ever walked in that park, it's difficult to know exactly where you are going. I exit wherever I find myself.
Ideally, I'd like to exit in the West seventies. I then take a leisurely stroll down Columbus or Broadway. I used to relax at the Barnes and Noble opposite Lincoln Center, but like many other bookstores, that is gone now.
I also loved to do this alone. There is something wonderful about solitude among the masses.
Of course all of this is dependent upon my having a good day. I loved to walk. Now more often than not, it is a struggle. These are the less than obvious things that are stolen by Parkinson's disease.
The disease and the advent of cell phones, have taken away solitude. I hate cell phones. People in what otherwise would be peaceful places discussing their hangnails to their friends. Clients who feel that it's not improper to call at any hour or day. If I go to the park, I may toss my phone in the reservoir.
Of course the disease makes the cell phone a necessity. I must always be able to make contact.
I would love a reprieve, even for a weekend. Columbus Day in New York can be wonderful. I remember in 1972 taking a date to the Guggenheim, walking Fifth Avenue to the bookstores, getting her a McGovern button, being a accosted by members of The Unification Church. New York memories.
Well the young lady is long married. The Bookstores are all close. McGovern got walloped. Thankfully Reverend Moon and The Unification Church have moved on. And that walk is difficult for an overweight 54 year old with a major neurological disease. But, I may try it.
I used to joke that I had "my Dad's hair. If he ever found out where it was, I'm in trouble." Now I know where it is, behind the bed, on my bathroom floor, growing from my knuckles, nose and ears.
I'm glad that the hot weather appears to be over. Parkinson's destroys your inner thermometer. Some people get extremely cold, I an always warm. The combination of that with a New York Summer, brings to mind the effect that Asparagus has on Number 1.
My wife is cold today, therefore I should wear a sweater. I don't get cold, until the temperature dips into the thirties.
Walking is difficult in the summer. If this weather pattern continues, I may try to take a walk in Central Park over the weekend. It's one of my favorite activities. I like to enter the park by the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I look for the Egyptian Obelisk behind the Museum, and marvel about how in the 1880's, this, multi-ton structure, was rolled from Battery Park to its permanent resting place behind the Museum.
I bring my Camera with me. a couple of years ago, I was taking a picture of an Orange crested bird. A couple asked me what kind of bird it was. I said that, "I think it's an Oriole, but they're not in town this weekend." No laugh. Must have been Met fans.
I try to walk over to Strawberry Fields, but if you've ever walked in that park, it's difficult to know exactly where you are going. I exit wherever I find myself.
Ideally, I'd like to exit in the West seventies. I then take a leisurely stroll down Columbus or Broadway. I used to relax at the Barnes and Noble opposite Lincoln Center, but like many other bookstores, that is gone now.
I also loved to do this alone. There is something wonderful about solitude among the masses.
Of course all of this is dependent upon my having a good day. I loved to walk. Now more often than not, it is a struggle. These are the less than obvious things that are stolen by Parkinson's disease.
The disease and the advent of cell phones, have taken away solitude. I hate cell phones. People in what otherwise would be peaceful places discussing their hangnails to their friends. Clients who feel that it's not improper to call at any hour or day. If I go to the park, I may toss my phone in the reservoir.
Of course the disease makes the cell phone a necessity. I must always be able to make contact.
I would love a reprieve, even for a weekend. Columbus Day in New York can be wonderful. I remember in 1972 taking a date to the Guggenheim, walking Fifth Avenue to the bookstores, getting her a McGovern button, being a accosted by members of The Unification Church. New York memories.
Well the young lady is long married. The Bookstores are all close. McGovern got walloped. Thankfully Reverend Moon and The Unification Church have moved on. And that walk is difficult for an overweight 54 year old with a major neurological disease. But, I may try it.
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