It’s been one and a half years since the batteries implanted in my chest were turned on, and new electrical pulses began firing in both sides of my brain, ameliorating the worst of my Parkinson’s physical symptoms. It has been both as I had hoped and feared: the sense of transcendental self-awareness has largely dissolved into memory while my mobility and physical comfort are much improved.
Was it a deal with the devil? Not really, I’m not convinced that the gains and losses are inextricably linked, but there does seem to be a tightly bonded exchange of the two; quid pro quo. Is it insurmountable? I don’t think so; I don’t know.
A pall of apathy guards my mind, seeping and sealing brief breaks of initiative in its walled defense, discriminating in the sentry’s challenge, allowing stealthy passage for depression’s silent horde, only to be repelled again and again by the weary keep.
Parkinson’s quiet siege relies on a triumvirate of sneaky partners in its patiently gradual erosion of battlements: apathy, low energy, mild psychosis, the three working in concert, rolling the giant horse past the mind’s defenses to release depression’s miasma within.
I know this; everyone connected closely to Parkinson’s knows this on some level. But it’s so easy to let that horse keep rolling, its building momentum welcomed for its power and repelled for its substance.
It is tiring being tired; excited for life but cursed to stand by as a watcher, non-engaged and frustratingly boiling in a stillness of indecision. This is where I am.
But that is not to say it is where I will be. If allowed, I see signs of improvement, of engagement, of being normal all around. I can reach out and touch them.
And sometimes I do, and the victory is blindingly abundant in reward; and just as quickly, it is forgotten. That is why I am writing this; to help me remember, to keep focus, and to act.
I know I can do it. Sometimes it pays to put yourself on report so that others might know it too. And now you do.
Cheers,
Pete