Life is hard, and it does not get easier as we age. With an incurable, progressive disease like Parkinson’s there are bound to be moments with little or nothing to look forward to, which begs the question, why continue?
I remember when I began asking that question in 2014, more as a hypothetical as I was mostly happy at the time. It was just before my deep brain stimulation (DBS) surgery, on the steep precipice of decline nine years after my Parkinson’s diagnosis. But the real possibility of gaining a renewed lease on life because of DBS existed back then. Eight and a half years later, there is no such “hail Mary” play for me to delay the inevitable descent into stillness.
What is it that keeps me from constant depression? Life could get far worse as Parkinson’s progresses, and it probably will. So why stick around?
Seventeen years ago, just months after my diagnosis, with my pilot’s license rescinded, my job gone, and no idea what would happen next, I promised myself that I would take advantage of whatever time and capability the disease left me. The only certainty before me was pain, discomfort, and death. Fuck Parkinson’s.
Six months after diagnosis, I was skippering our new boat far into Canadian waters with my beautiful wife and children. Since then, I’ve tried to squeeze every last bit of life from chance and circumstance.
My most meaningful life experiences have been born from the fires of Parkinson’s threatened constraint, allowing me to grow and love without reservation. Yes, “Fuck Parkinson’s,” I say, even as I embrace the disease. Without conspicuous challenge stretching our core prospects, life tends to pass us by.
It makes me smile. Hey, Parkinson’s—you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. What do you have to say to that?