.......or how I was totally tactless, and almost lost a friend. It was a
cool night. My friend and I were out for a walk with our attendant
illnesses. My Parkinson's Disease was still a shadow, a dark looming figure
that was keeping in my step. The diagnosis was only a few months old and I
was still having blinding flashes - pictures of future pathos - me, drooling
by a dusty window in a soggy wheelchair. I figured I would be in this
picture in, oh, about a year's time, maybe a few weeks, whatever.....who
could know? We were well into our talk on healing and recovery when I
dropped all diplomacy, like clown ladies used to drop their knickers, and
said, something like,"Well, that's fine for you. You can hope for recovery,
even expect it, even count on it, but not me. For me it's down hill all
the way. In fact you could say that right at this moment I'm the healthiest
I'll be for the rest of my life."
My friend was not impressed. Given the crassness of my remark,
admittedly drenched in self pity, it still foreshadowed a reality of the two
of us on different recovery tracks: she would certainly recover physically
from her illness; and I, I would need to do a lot of work to recover my
spiritual sense of direction. And so I did. As in former postings I've
referred to my ventures into the self help library, I've actually begun to
find some spiritual security in taking responsibility for myself and my
attitude. Problem: I've been getting too good at it.
Twice in the past two days I've heard from Parkinson friends that they
have been having trouble reminding their friends, colleagues etc. that,
sorry, we know we look pretty good, our attitude is terrific, even humerous
from time to time, we smile a lot, there may even be a bit of a spring in
our shuffle, but we've still got it......and it's getting worse.
I teach high school English at a school for the performing arts in
Ottawa. It's a fabulous place to spend my daily time - creative, warm,
supportive. But lately I've been getting these strange comments about how
good I look and how happy everyone is to see me looking so much better.
Better?? Well I suppose $300.00 drugs per month will do that....yes.... and
I am affirming my feisty spirit every day..... but what do you mean by
better?
I was grateful for the article that appeared in the (Scottish) Herald
because it put it all so well. If there was bias in it, it was a positive up
beat slant, but nonetheless factual about the progress of the disease, and
the correspondent options of medicine and surgery. I showed the article to
my Department Head. He's a good and supportive man. But after he read the
article, he did not want to talk about it. I will assume that that is
because he cares for me and has suddenly received the full impact of what is
actually riding in my saddle with me. (Many people just don't know, and I
can't blame them.)
These are tough and deadly times for education in Ontario. And without
going into the whole mess, this man has given me his classroom as my own
teaching classroom for next year, and has insisted that he take the worst of
the lot of crappy rooms for himself. So now I feel bad. Perhaps I went too
far. Perhaps I should have continued to fake good health for a while
longer. It is he, really, who should be in the better classroom. He's the
Head, he needs to be at the hub of the activity. But he won't hear of it.
The discussion is closed.
This classroom is closer to everything I need, the phone, the bath room,
the office, the vcr storage room. I mean, it's really a gift. But I'm
having trouble with the price. Perhaps I am still ashamed I have this thing,
that I have to have special consideration because of it. I've always found
taking other people's kindness difficult. It makes me feel even more
vulnerable, a little at their mercy. It's going to take some getting used
to.
