Thanks to both of you - that cheered me up - I've just spent half my 53 rd 
birthday forcing my leg to take me down the road to the newsagent's shop, 300 
yards. damm parkie

Amanda 

Quoting rayilynlee <[log in to unmask]>:

> Ode to a Frozen Foot -- a Parky Poem
> July 24, 2009, 10:38AM
> 
> 
> As I sit down to write this, I am feeling pretty good.
> Having had PD for 10 years, I feel better than I should.
> The stiffness and the slowness are well handled I confess
> All thanks to Levodopa and that thing called DBS.
> 
> I don't have dyskinesia and I have no trouble dressing.
> I'm grateful every day and thank God for every blessing.
> I work at home more oft than not, in that way I'm in luck!
> There's just one thing to gripe about -- the way my feet get stuck!
> 
> At lunchtime Gail and I go to the store to browse the deli
> To get some ribs or chicken or something else to fill my belly.
> She parks the car and we get out and I hobble towards the store.
> My feet freeze to the ground as I get close to the door.
> 
> I look down at my shoes and they're stuck there on the floor.
> "What are you sissies scared about, it's just a stupid door?"
> My brain sends down a signal to my hesitating feet.
> "Come on, you lazy tootsies, let's go get something to eat!"
> 
> I think they are embarrassed as they turn loose of the floor
> And they make their cautious way and proceed right through the door.
> And now our goal's is nearer as I hobble down the aisle
> "I hope they have some meatloaf," I say with a hungry smile.
> 
> We're making decent progress as we get close to the food.
> I can almost taste the mac and cheese when... BAM!  My feet are glued.
> "So what's the problem NOW?" I ask the feet I walk upon.
> "The pattern on the floor has changed.  It scares us," they respond.
> 
> I roll my eyes and start to rock to free my frozen feet.
> My wife holds out her hand to help.  (She loves me, ain't she sweet?)
> My feet, at last, break free from their invisible detention.
> I hobble to the counter and make clear my lunch intention.
> 
> With food in hand we make our way to the checkout for to pay.
> I'd like to take our food and go, my feet decide to stay.
> "I've really had it with you guys," I say through gritted teeth.
> "But there's a RUG there on the floor," they whisper from beneath.
> 
> With mental calculations that would make an Einstein strain
> My legs receive commands from my confused, beleagured brain.
> "YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A RUG BEFORE?" My brain begins to shout.
> "IT'S JUST A STUPID RUG, YOU DOLTS!  STEP OVER, AND GET OUT!"
> 
> My feet may be reluctant, but they know my brain's the boss.
> They free themselves and step into the street so we can cross.
> Gail, she walks behind me ever ready to assist
> To gently jab me in the butt if my feet again resist.
> 
> We're almost to the car when the rain begins to fall.
> It's not a gentle shower, it's a sudden summer squall.
> I'm getting soaked, I cannot move, I'm frozen to the spot.
> I look down at my soggy feet, I whisper "thanks a lot!"
> 
> Gail runs on ahead so she can bring the car around.
> She opens up the door and I get in without a sound.
> I'm wet, I'm miffed, my shirt is soaked, my feet squish in my shoes.
> I'll say this about Parkinson's.  It always does amuse.
>  
> Website: deepbraindiary.com 
> 
> I didn't write this - deepbrain diarist did
> Ray
> 
> Rayilyn Brown
> Director AZNPF
> Arizona Chapter National Parkinson Foundation
> [log in to unmask]
> 
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