George A.... I must tell you, George, I'm sitting here literally stunned at your comments about living with a chronic degenerative disease. In my opinion this is what it really IS like and I've never seen "life" as we know it expressed so bluntly, so bleakly, eloquently, or so well. For those not burdened by what we live with each day, to understand what anyone living with a chronic degenerative disease is really like, you've put our collective experiences into the words it takes to enlighten them. From my heart, sincere thanks... Barb Mallut [log in to unmask] ---------- From: Parkinson's Information Exchange on behalf of George Andes Sent: Thursday, December 25, 1997 9:31 AM To: Multiple recipients of list PARKINSN Subject: Re(2): I'm new Dear Ron - Continuing the discussion about pd and its effects: If people were polled at random as to what they usually think about when not thinking about anything in particular (when their brain [or mind] is simply idling), you would probably get a variety of stunned looks, some sheepish smiles, and many embarassed confessions . My guess would be that the top ranking replies would be money, sex, what to cook for supper, worrying about family members, worring about the future, and money, and sex. If the poll were taken only of those of us with a chronic disease the answers would probably be much the same, but the distribution of these answers might be quite different. Right up there with money and sex would be a worry about the future, financially, physically and emotionally. What will I become and who will take care of me? Pd is a gift from the Giver-of-all-good- things, an unwelcome and unpleasant gift to be sure, but a gift nonetheless. We pwp's are privileged above others. We share our front row seats in the theater of the future with those with muscular dystrophy, diabetes, Lou Gehrig' s disease, and other less well known conditions. Alzheimers patients are excluded; they appear to lose conscious contact with reality. We pwp have a condition which affords us a delicious conscious descent into the realm of total physical incapacity. The mills of the Gods grind exceeding low but exceeding fine. Pd gives a new dimension to the meaning of the word relentless. Furthermore our pd does not affect our cognitive abilities. Pd is a surgeon with a very sharp scapel operating on an unanesthized patient. We are awake on the operating table and painfully conscious of every cut as one-by-one the surgeon removes our ability to write, to walk, to sleep, to sit still, to engage in the ordnary bits and pieces of life and on and on. We are like Poe's protagonist victims, Fortunatos watching in disbelief as the last bricks are cemented in place entombing him forever. One reason I think of my pd as a gift is that it relentlessly holds a mirror in front of may face and forces me to look into it. It is the mirror of self awareness, the mirror of truth, the mirror that shows me as I really am, not as I might like to think of or imagine myself to be. Denial is for beginners and has no place here. The emotional skills needed to live gracefully with pd are purchased at great price, the price of self-knowledge. They must be relearned daily, and every day I am less than perfect, and every day I stumble where once I went smoothly. Acommodation without surrender is easy to say, but difficult to practice. [Reading that over I see how poorly I have expressed myself, but I will let it stand.. ] George Andes 64/15