Parkinson's Diary, Episode Six: Another Progress Report

 

About a month ago, maybe a little more, I fell while taking a little hike on a local trail. There I was, lying flat on my back in a forest clearing, without any stumps or bushes near with which I could haul myself up. I couldn’t get up. Nirmala was there with me, but she couldn’t get me upright either. I tried to scoot over to the nearest stump to no avail; my muscles simply weren’t strong enough. I attempted a sort of wiggle dance to worm me over to some source of support, but could hardly move an inch. The nearest stump, about three feet away, became a last straw just beyond a drowning man’s reach. After a while, we both were exhausted. I just lay there.

After a while, two hikers approached. “Do you need any help?” one of them asked, a thin woman less than half my age. “Yes, Yes!,” I replied. Before I knew it, I was upright again, thanking the women who soon disappeared into the forest, accompanied by an overpowering smell of marijuana.

Although I almost lost my balance on several occasions since, that was the last time I fell.  If I did fall again, would I be able to get up? Probably, but I don’t want to find out.

In other words, I’ve made considerable progress in the past month: I walk better and talk louder--my wife can now hear me---my facial expression is more expressive. Best of all, I get up from a chair faster...

Not so fast!  I just came back from an hour’s walk with Nirmala; I didn’t do very well. I plopped along from bench to bench like a bent Neanderthal. (The latter with P.D. probably would have been thankful that there were no chairs in their day.)

Guess Tom wasn’t (re)built in a day!

In general, things are looking up.