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>A   BAD MORNING
>
>
>Waking up
>I  know I am in trouble
>from the degree of stiffness
>in my body's barometer
>and the fact I am lying on my stomach
>this is my version of a turtle on his back
>I can barely lift or turn my head
>tendons creak like rusty hinges
>clock/radio reads 11:00
>this is not good news
>with Parkinson's disease
>sleeping in has it's price
>I am WAY behind in my medication
>the phone rings
>persistent, insistent
>I glare at it, sitting there
>so smug, functional
>so close (for most people)
>but for me right now
>it might as well be on top of a
>         nt
>      u      a
>   o             i
>m                  n
>in Alaska
>I'm frozen as a dead Eskimo
>in a collapsed igloo
>I haven't fallen (like the commercial)
>but I sure can't get up
>or reach the phone
>the answering machine clicks on
>my voice recites a clever poem
>if I was so clever
>I would have taped me saying
>H  E  L  P  !
>O.K., stay calm, don't panic
>today is?
>Saturday, strike one
>weekday  mornings a homemaker comes
>makes sure this doesn't happen
>I strain to hear any noises
>my two sons might make
>that's a switch!
>oh yeah, they stayed at grandma's
>so their uncle could take them fishing
>one of the countless things...
>anyway, strike two
>my wife is working until 2:00
> 3  L-O-N-G hours away
>and anyone dropping in
>won't hear me yell
>my face stuck in this damn pillow
>strike three!
>startled, I jump (not literally)
>as the phone rings again
>I can't free my hands or push myself up
>I grunt and thrash about
>thin blanket weighs a ton
>I move a whole inch or two
>panic, claustrophobia mount
>shaking with the effort
>I try to kick the covers off
>the phone stops ringing
>         up
>I  jump       and
>                  down
> pound on the   W
>                A
>                L
>                L
>tip
>      over
>                furniture
>Sm aS H  things
>(all in my mind)
>temper tantrum over
>I turn my head
>there is my         P
>                    O
>                    L
>                    E
>from floor to ceiling
>strong, secure
>designed so I can pull myself up
>easily, normally
>if I were in any other
>stupid bloody position!
>there on the night stand
>in plain sight, usually within reach
>my little plastic pill container
>carefully stocked with the six
>prescription drugs I take
>my constant companion, day and night
>also, a glass of water, with a straw
>most mornings
>I take my medication/painkillers
>then wait for them to K I C K  in
>so eventually, I can get up
>and dress myself
>like a real grown-up!
>I also keep pills there for
>the typical events of the
>middle of last night
>waking me up in pain from
>back spasms
>horrible cramps in my calves and feet
>I took too much medication
>(In retrospect) on an empty stomach
>the pain soon replaced by  manic energy
>squirming, thrashing
>un con troll able movements
>sleep became an impossible dream
>getting out of bed
>knowing I had crossed
>from the land of stone movements
>to the realm of incessant motion
>sitting in front of the computer
>writing for several hours
>my chair's diminished squeaking
>matching return of control
>back to the Dark Side, Luke
>finally crawling back to bed
>my wife  must have thrown the
>(light?) blanket over me
>when she left for work 5 hours ago...
>
>I haven't moved for so long
>I'm now incapable of all
>but the slightest motions
>clock tells me 10 minutes have past
>it seems so much longer!
>claustrophobia returns
>I feel trapped, stifling, unable to breathe
>It takes mighty efforts to
>raise myself on shaking arms
>but I can't transfer my weight to roll
>several of these Parkinson's pushups
>then I collapse, frustrated
>my face stuck in my pillow  (again)
>drifting back off to sleep
>in vivid nightmares, unable to run
>ring, ring, ring
>phone!!
>during my nightmare
>I have thrashed one arm free
>if I can reach just a little further
>my fingertips reach the cord
>gently, gently
>it stops ringing
>no, wait!
>if I pull just a little...
> C
>    R
>        A
>            S
>                 H
>
>instrumentoftorture
>falls on the floor
>the throb of the receiver
>a thousand angry bees in my head
>infuriating message
>please hang up the phone!
>I laugh maniacally
>ranting at the disembodied voice
>I'd like to hang you up, you...
>wait!
>is that the doorbell?
>it is!
>it rings several times
>followed by a series of knocks
>no use to holler, but I do anyway
>I'm in here!
>I pray the door is unlocked
>please
>somebody, anybody!
>opening it, might hear me
>the doorknob rattles twice
>then the sounds of a car door
>and a       car            driving          away
>GODDAMMITALLTOHELL!!
>molten rage
>my head pounds
>as bad as my heart
>anger gives way to despair
>bitter tears score my face
>FUTURE?
>what future?
>this is only a sneak preview
>when the REAL show comes
>this could be the highlight of my day!
>eventually, with calm determination
>after a half hour of imperceptible movements
>each one a miniature battle
>in twilight, barbed wire trenches
>I have maneuvered close to the
>Oasis!
>pill container in my hand
>open, after a brief struggggggggggle
>I choke down some pills with spit
>the luxury of water
>not worth the additional effort
>20 minutes later
>I am   tuddah! M  O  B  I  L  E
>by the time my wife
>gets home from work
>I am as close                to    normal
>                        as I get
>she asks about my day
>a torrent of volcanic words
>threatens to spew
>I choke them back
>while my emotions battle
>JEALOUSY of her freedom
>ENVY of her well-earned fatigue
>FEAR of my dependance on her
>irrational RESENTMENT of her health
>ADMIRATION of her strength
>LOVE for so many reasons
>I finally manage a non-committal
>"Same as usual, how was your's?"
>
>Bill Harrington
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