Rick from Bellingham, Washington said:

"Anybody out there having trouble keeping close to some
of your old friends,
now that you feature a progressive brain disease? I am
noticing subtle
effects, a kind of distancing, that I can't quite put
my finger on. Part of
it is that I'm just tired, and don't do as much as I
did two years ago. I'm
not feeling shunned, just a little ignored because I'm
not out there
socializing much."
----------
Rick - As you get more into Parkinson's you will find
two factors that contribute to loneliness, our own
withdrawal from our friend and our friend's withdrawal
from us. We can do something about both of them. (And
about finding a cure so we won't have to put up with PD
any longer! Which is why we ALL need to support Pennies
for Parkinson's!)

I wrote the message below a number of years ago, back
when Parkinson's was new to my world. I've heard the
lies - "Oh Jerry, I can't come over tonight. I have
paperwork to do." "I would love to get together for
dinner but Mary and I are real busy. I'll call, okay?"

You find out who your real friends are, who is going to
walk beside you and who is going to walk away. I saved
a very precious friendship with this letter, which I
will share with you:

Dear Friend,

You haven't been by to see me in quite some time. I
wondered about what happened, if I said something that
offended you, so I started asking around. Word finally
got back that you were uncomfortable around me because
of
the Parkinson's thing. That's why, instead of calling,
I thought I might write you a note. Maybe I can explain
a little
better to you about the way I feel.

The last time you came over, I was having a lot of
physical problems. Parkinson's is like that; good for
two days,
bad for three. Before you come, call. I'll tell you
honestly if I'm up or down. That way you know what to
expect. But
don't avoid me. Inside, I am still the same person I
always was. I can still beat you at chess, still out
talk you over
religion and politics. I can still laugh at all your
jokes, still feel sad when we talk about some of our
lost friends. I'm
still me.

Don't be afraid to talk about the things you see. My
hands shake, my walk is unsteady. I know that. It isn't
a
secret. I'll tell you about what I'm going through,
about the medications and stuff. You need to know so
you will feel
comfortable when you see something happen. Parkinson's
isn't contagious, it isn't even life-threating. Chances
are,
I'll live just as long as you, although I'm trying for
one day longer, just to prove the point. Just because
I've
accepted having Parkinson's doesn't mean that I've
accepted defeat. I'm still fighting. But the fighting
would be so
much easier if you were around. Why?

Because we used to talk about everything and I miss
that. We used to laugh at stupid stuff and I miss that.
We used
to punch one another in the arm, work on our cars
together, tell lies, talk about kids - and I miss all
of that. We used
to get sad together, remembering the things in the
past. We made a vow never to talk about those things
outside of
our friendship and I need to talk about them with you.

I'm still the same. Nothing inside has changed, only
the outside. That's why you don't need to feel
uncomfortable
around me. We've traveled too many miles together to
let something like Parkinson's come between us. So I'm
asking you - call me. Come visit. Let's talk about
today, tomorrow, ten years from now, because the future
will be so
much richer if you're around, and so much poorer
without you.

I might have Parkinson's, but you snore, so I'd say
we're about even. I've missed you. As always, I'll be
here for
you, waiting for you to call.

Jerry Finch
--
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