On what started to be a very pleasant autumnal walk in the woods, I stumbled, fell onto the ground, and couldn't get up. Couldn't get up at all.
My wife, Nirmala, had suggested taking a walk. We chose to walk in Cylburn Arboretum, a Baltimore City park fairly close to our house. It is a mini-Longwood gardens, located in North Baltimore, just a few miles away. The park, before it was sold to the city, had been the home of a wealthy capitalist. Sitting in one of the many little gardens of the park, surrounded by statues on pedestals, one can imagine the exclusive and dazzling parties that once occurred there. It is now an arboretum, containing many types of tree and many beautiful flower arrangements that are changed with the seasons. It also contains many wooded trails, a little bit of (mostly) untouched nature in the center of Baltimore.
One of the trails was the site of my fall. I do have balance and mobility issues due to Parkinson's desease. I had been walking with poor control, trying my best to negotiate the roots and stones on the path. Suddenly I found myself on the ground. I remember falling quite gently--I simply lost my balance and fell down without injury. That was the beginning of my difficulty, however. I could not get to my feet, no matter how hard I tried. Get on you knees, then get up, I told myself; to no avail. Scoot over to a log, sit on it, then get up, I told myself, again to no avail. This went on for about a half hour.
Finally, a hiker appeared, who, with the help of my wife, managed to get me up.
It was an odd feeling, feeling as able as I had been, yet not to be able to lift myself off the ground.
I thanked the two hikers, one of whom had helped me, profusely. They left, leaving behind a very strong smell of marijuana. This might have given the hiker a boost of energy, for she weighed a good deal less than I. Thank you, strangers, thank you! Without you, I probably would have struggled to get up a lot longer.
The spirit was willing, but, yes, yes, the flesh had become very weak indeed.
The first serious symptom of the disease was, in my case, the inability to rise from a chair. I--usually-still am able to rise without assistance, however. But my gait has been poor, increasingly poor, during the past few years. Science tells us that at the time of diagnosis of Parkinson's, the brain of the affected person had already lost about 60% of the dopamine-producing cells in the brain--resulting in severe and progressive symptoms of neurodegeneration.
I thought I was almost normal when I traveled to Europe a few months ago. I wasn't--at the airport, officials brought a wheel chair without my having to ask for one. --Later on that day, at a museum in Amsterdam, a guard supplied me with a walker, also without my having requested one. I obviously had difficulty walking.
It isn't easy being handicapped when you feel almost normal. The handicapped sign for our car, however, has come in handy on several occasions.
Even though depression often accompanies Parkinson's, I do not feel depressed at all. Perhaps a confluence of Lewey bodies in my brain is the reason for my being sanguine, who knows? I do know, however, that despite the facial rigidity characteristic of Parkinson's, I'm still smiling on the inside. Che sara, sara.
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