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Thank you, Margaret M., for posting the long article from the Chronicle. I have a tendency when I read to argue with the author, to agree or disagree paragraph by paragraph and line by line. I don't wait to hear the writer out before passing judgment, and, as a result, I must often retract my too hastily arrived at early opinions. That happened with this article. Early on, I had the writer pegged as mildly ill-informed about some things and simply wrong about others. When I finished, I realized that as a piece of technical journalism, this was not at all bad and in many parts it was quite fine. For a lay readership, PD was explained tolerably well, the large number of PDers was stressed several times, and what current medical practice is and isn't, and can do and can't do, was well laid out. Both the shallow comfort of enjoying PD's relatively slow progress, and the deep despair of facing its unrelenting progression were mentioned. That last is very important. What other medical condition gives its anointed such a long luxurious descent into physical Hell and with a delicious malice leaves their mental and cognitive faculties unaffected, the better for them to enjoy their journey? A life lived as a protagonist in one of Poe's Tales would not have been my first choice. Still, and still, life with PD is our draw. Judging from the letters to this list, we all seem to be making the best out of making the best of it. Without any special pleading for their sympathy, however, I would like my colleagues and friends to read Dickens' famous opening sentence to his Tale of Two Cities as a description of many Tales of Two Lives, the Patient and the Caregiver. Especially the Caregiver. We who walk with the cane get some recognition. Those who walk beside us with weary steps, tired eyes, and strained faces are all but invisible. George Andes, 13+ years and counting.