>    Yesterday I spent a long long time poking around a curio shop.  All
>kinds of candly, woody, vasey things were on an after Christmas sale.
>Whenever I'd bring something over to the cash, my hand would wobble and the
>item would thrash around.  But I hung in there, and each time made it
>without dropping anything.  Finally when all was paid for and bagged, the
>owner of the shop, who had been watching me from the back of the store,
came
>over and asked if I needed help.  I said, "No thanks, I'm slow but sure."
>As I went up the escalator I felt tears burning my eyes.  I looked up into
>the skylight and silently screamed at God to please give me a pill to get
>rid of this thing.  please. To let me be a private person again, and not
>have to wear my greatest pain  like a sign, an open invitation to every
well
>meaning man and woman to jump up and remind me that I have Parkinson's
>Disease, again, when I've finally reached a happy point in my day where its
>presence in my life is the most farthest thought, when I am dreamily
picking
>out a little  wooden cat that will peer over my mantle, or a glass vase to
>arrange some dried flowers for the coffee table.
>    Tonight I was at a pot luck  supper.  Whenever someone new would come
in
>they'd always want to know in a quiet sadly smiley sort of way how I was
>"feeeeeeeling".  I  felt, to be honest, like the neighbourhood victim of
>squeezed out pity, a few smarting drops left over from Christmas.  I went
>and got my plate and felt brave enough to carry it in my relatively steady
>left hand, while tottering my drink in my bouncy right hand.  I was doing
>splendidly..... was almost at my seat in the living room, when a kind dear
>lady  took my drink from me and said she'd hold it until I got my bearings.
>I will never know if I would have made it or not.  Another cozy chatty
woman
>nestled in beside me and after my telling her that I was having some down
>days, cheerfully councilled that these feelings come and go, and that after

>one experiences a depression for a while,  there is quite a strong elation
>when it leaves.
>    In a short while I was alone in the kitchen, crying, uncontrollably.
My
>dearest friend came in and pressed me to her heart, soothed and comforted
>me.  John and I gathered up our coats and made an awkward departure.
>    Sorry, these are sad notes to sing tonight.  I really don't want advice
>or wise commentary of what "should" have been said, done, or felt.   What
>can be said that hasn't already been said, thought, fiercely felt or vanely
>acted upon.....  Only one more thing.  What did I do in response to these
>people?  These kind erring souls, these bitter messengers of my vanishing
>independence?  I smiled and said thank-you.  A twice provoked pain.
>    Tomorrow I will go and pick up the form for my handicapped parking
>permit.  I smile when I think of how it'll feel the first time I use it and
>some  well  meaning community conscious citizen, not recognizing my
laboured
>trembling under my winter coat and gloves, mistakes my ungainly walk for
>trouble with the snow, freezes me in my tracks with, "Hey, you there, ya
>know this is a handicapped parking zone? Ya gotta have a disability ta park
>here."  If only.....
>