Dear Joan,
This is Janice I met you in the chat room, would like to say what an
inspiration you have been to us all. I have looked up to you and have had
you in my thoughts, now you will be in my prayers. It is time for us to give
to you now. I heard your pain I had tears in my eyes so I had to write this
and say how much you mean to me and how much I love you as a person. Here is
a hug (((((((((((((((((((Joan ))))))))))))))))) Love Janice or the Bunny
Wabbit
----- Original Message -----
From: Joan E Blessing Snyder <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Friday, December 14, 2001 9:20 PM
Subject: Middle of the night...


This is a requiem.

It is a pity-party for my old life that I need to get out of my system
and to get over.

It hurts so badly..but I shall survive and life will go on as it always
has; I will feel strong again and the sun will come out tomorrow..but it
is late at night and I feel this awful pain of letting go.

Today, my life took a turn and I can never have it the way it used to be
or even make believe anymore that it will ever be the same again.

I am hurting and sad and so very angry.

You see, today, after months of talking about it and putting it off and
denying that it was even ever real, all the pieces came together: my
neuro wrote me a script, a letter saying that it was a real necessity,
my insurance company oked the entire thing and a very nice man came to
my house this afternoon with 3 wheelchairs for me to test drive.

Now it's all over but the shouting and the delivery of my new
jazzy-cobalt blue, 28 inches wide, turns on a dime, power wheelchair.
She's a beauty all right and I am determined to make my peace with
her-just as I did with my blue 28 inch high Schwin back when I was
growing up.  But that was then and this is now. Back in my youth, my
bike was my declaration of freedom; I was the oldest of 6 kids and my
mom didn't drive and my dad traveled 5 days out of the week. My bike was
my get out of jail free card and my get out of the house full of
brothers and sisters and my letting my pony tail free so that I could
think straight. That was then.I don't even think that getting my
driver's license ever gave me the thrill of waving good-bye and heading
out to face life on my bike.

But this is now.Now because of this stupid disease that I have come to
terms with over and over again has me down for the count once again.

It is the thought that once I begin to use the chair, it will become
easy for me to get around in and it will become a habit. For so many
years, I prided myself on my independence: before marriage, during
marriage when Stan was sent to Dessert Storm and after he came home-I
tried and succeeded in maintaining my independence. Even since the
diagnosis of my PD 11 years ago, I have managed to go my own way, never
looking backwards or allowing any time for regrets.

That all changed today. It is another milestone in my life that I cannot
hide from or pretend that it isn't there. It will be there all right, in
all of its shiny glory. It is a rite of passage like when the head neuro
at Mayo said, "Yes it is really Parkinson's Disease" or when a judge
finally said, "Your Social Security Disability which you have requested
is granted" and one of the daily concessions that People Living With
Parkinson's make just to accommodate this damn disease.

I was so proud of the way that I had handled this, I likened it to the
oyster of life: when you get a piece of shit in your shell it irritates
and bothers you until slowly your mind wraps itself around this irritant
shaping it and polishing it until one day, it becomes a pearl.

This was my pearl.I had shaped it with the thoughts of how much more I
will be able to accomplish once I no longer have to spend all of my
energy on staying vertical and how much more time I will have when I no
longer must spend so much of my day hauling my fat ass up off the floor.
And won't it be a relief not to fall 25 times a day- cause, boy, this
ole bod sure don't heal like it used to.

I know in my head that all of this is true and in the daylight, sanity
will return to me but it is the middle of the night and all I can think
of is how, at 50 years of age, my life will be lived out seeing the
world from a seated position.

La chiam!!

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