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For my many friends, known and unknown, on the Parkinson's List

^^^^^^  WARM GREETINGS  FROM  ^^^^^^^^^^^^  :-)
 Ivan Suzman        48/39/36       [log in to unmask]   :-)
 Portland, Maine   land of lighthouses     36 deg. F   :-)
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DO YOU FIND YOURSELF ASKING

Do you find yourself asking,
How can I make my life less painful?

How can I find meaning when my ship
runs aground,  on the stormy coast of Parkinson's?

When my attitude and strength
are being tested,
and tested again,
when my "on" periods bloom and fade
as quickly as white crocuses in April.

At these times I look deeply within,
and search for a sense of awe,
I dig up a new kind of faith,
that even Parkinson's
can offer me a sense of Beauty.

Like the harsh coast of Maine
there are still harbors,
filled with cormorants and terns,
waiting to be seen if the sailing goes well.

I ventured into a green cove today.
I was asked to teach nursing students
who are learning about progressive
and ever-changing diseases,

I was asked to be a picture, a glimpse,
a model,  of Parkinson's-a-go-go!
Yes, I am Parkinson's in action,
not frozen and helpless and shaking.

No, I shall defy being someone's
museum piece of incurable fragility.
And, even if I can't run,

I shall move stumblingly, but gracefully,
I shall speak clearly, though softened,
I shall smile  radiantly asymmetrical smiles
 next spring,
at the nursing students of Westbrook College.

My friend Glenna wrote a book,
"Living WELL With Parkinson's " she called it.
Perhaps you know of her book.

My friend Martha calls it "The Bible"
of our support group.
We must keep ourselves involved and busy,
says she,
her crystal-clear, blue eyes twinkling,
beneath her snowy hair.

You are special,
says she.
Why Ivan, you know,
Young Parkinson's ought to keep you busy!

I never dreamed how full my days could be,
nor imagined being invited to a college to explain
or at least, to try and provide glimpses
of life with Parkinson's,

which was at first a savage predator,
crackling like a blazing wildfire
at all of my ragged edges,

but for this moment transmuted,
a turbulent ocean

bestilled.


                   by Ivan Suzman
                    5:58 A.M.
                    Monday
                    16 November 1998