About a month and a half ago, I started what was for me a rigorous exercise program.    Parkinson's has afforded me too much free time, so after six years, I decided to put it to good use.  I thoroughly researched exercise bikes.

This brought back fond memories, because at one time, in the seventies, my dad was the number 1 dealer of Schwinn exercise bicycles in New York City.  So therefore, I was not unhappy when my research had me settle upon a Schwinn.

I was skeptical about whether  I would stick to the program.   On the bottom of the cap of a Snapple bottle, I once read that "A Goldfish has an attention span of two seconds."  John Lennon may claim that he is the Walrus, but I am the Goldfish!

I started at 20 minutes a day,  I now, 45 days later, am doing a consistent 90 minutes, in three increments.   It also has made it possible for me to increase my walking to a little bit more than 2 miles a day.

What made me keep up with it?  I realized that I'm a statistics nut,   So by using excel, I created charts that would show my progress.  Being very competitive helped too, because each day I compete against myself.

So what have been the effects?

1)  My Meds seem to last longer;
2) My posture is vastly improved, therefore my neck no longer hurts;
3) I walk at a faster pace;
4) I'm snacking less;
5) I'm much happier and more optimistic.
6) That gut that I've had, that creates a total eclipse of my feet, is slowly going away.

This is a simple activity, that doesn't involve an increase in your meds, nor any invasive surgery, that we can all do, compete with yourself.

Life can change overnight.

Seven years ago,  I had a thriving Law Practice.  I worked hard and lived well.  I saved very little.  I started to notice little signs that there was something amiss with my right side.    I've told that story before, no point at telling it again.

The past seven years have seen the onset and progression of Parkinson's disease, losing my father and recently a dear friend,  moving my office from my office to my home, a precipitous decline in business, and strangely a greater appreciation for my life.

I used to feel sorry for myself.  There was no reason.  I had everything and still do.

Parkinson's showed me the fighter in me.   I refuse to let it win.    I will work until I can no longer work, and then I'll find something else to do.   I drove until I no longer could, and then I walked.   There may be setbacks, but there isn't defeat.

The Way the New Yorker Drives

It's so much fun being a pedestrian. (To the tune of "My Favorite Things")

Talking on cell phones and ignoring signs written
Keep to the right for this isn’t Great Britain.
Eating your hero and nearly taking some lives

These are the way that the New Yorker Drives.

Talking with two hands on her laps a toy poodle
Don’t try to change her, it’s really quite futile
Clipped the man in the walker, I hope he survives
These are the way that the New Yorker Drives.

Old men with canes making quick daring dashes
It’s their fault that there’s are so many car crashes
Pay no attention, while yelling at wives
These are the way that the New Yorker Drives.

When there’s red lights
And the phone rings
When your coffees cold
You better remember how New Yorkers drive
Your never be, too old

A Day in the Life

The statement was made, that we shouldn’t let our Parkinson’s define us.   I agree in theory, but in reality, it's a difficult concept.

Think about our days, difficulty getting out of bed. Going to the bathroom is tough. In order to effectively brush your teeth you must use an electric toothbrush. If your sinemet hasn't hit, a shower is problematic.

Now after you've partially dried off, get dressed. Underwear is difficult, because you've been having difficult cutting your toenails. Now sit down, cross your legs and try to put your socks on.  It takes a few tries to cross the legs, and if they don’t cramp, five minutes later, the socks are on.

You're ready for breakfast. Mostly bran, because PD has caused constipation.

You're ready to leave from work. Why am I a half an hour late? You no longer drive so you take mass transit. By the time that you get to the bus or train, you're soaking wet.

Chances are there are no seats left on the bus. There is a 20 year old, listening to rap music, wearing a t-shirt that says "Leave me the f*** alone" taking up two seats. Do you dare ask him to move?

If you were lucky enough to get a seat, better start standing one stop early, otherwise you're not getting up in time.

You're at work, your boss calls you in. "Your typing has slowed to a crawl, and you've fallen asleep in meetings. Are you on drugs?"

Rather then tell your boss what the problem is, you struggle all day.

You get home, and your spouse, who is just trying to help, says something, and you snap. You then fall asleep in front of the TV. You are soon awakened by a violent dream

It shouldn't define us. Put some crazy glue on the seat of your chair and see if that chair hanging from your butt defines you.

It's a Wonderful Life

My friends say that I was hit by the perfect storm.   In 2006 at the age of 49 I was diagnosed with Parkinson's  Disease.  At that time my 80 year old father was in Mount Sinai Hospital with Heart Disease.   I am an Attorney specializing in Real Estate Law.   Due to the cyclical nature of the business and the sub prime mortgages, the business crashed.

In 2008, I moved my office into my home, which was further away from my clientele.       I was in an inevitable depression.  

During this time, I took up a long abandoned hobby, writing.    I loved it.   My friends, family and some strangers, found my stories, Dr. Seuss and song Parodies, and extremely light poetry funny and poignant.   I gave myself the "nom de plume" "Jello Marx," figuring that that would have been the sixth Marx Brother, and started to write a blog called "Memoirs of a Disgruntled Attorney."

Before he passed I made sure to take the bus into Manhattan (I had stopped driving in the city)  and see my dad every Sunday.   We had always had a special relationship, but this solidified it.  This week in 2008 my father passed away.  

My business was and is doing terrible.   I've managed to keep afloat with the help of wonderful family and friends.

The writings and my Sundays with my dad and the realization that I was wasting my time shook me from the depression.  

I've had a great life.   I wanted to give back, so I applied to the "People with Parkinson's Advisory Counsel" of the Parkinson's Disease foundation.   To my great surprise I was accepted.    Here I have met exciting people.   People with Parkinson's who refuse to be marginalized.  These people are not depressed.  They fight every day.   I leave these meeting with an optimism and energy that I've never had before.

I don't know what the future will hold, but no matter what, I won't complain.

Those Sundays helped me deal with his passing.    I eulogized him.