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> Yesterday I spent a long long time poking around a curio shop. All >kinds of candly, woody, vasey things were on an after Christmas sale. >Whenever I'd bring something over to the cash, my hand would wobble and the >item would thrash around. But I hung in there, and each time made it >without dropping anything. Finally when all was paid for and bagged, the >owner of the shop, who had been watching me from the back of the store, came >over and asked if I needed help. I said, "No thanks, I'm slow but sure." >As I went up the escalator I felt tears burning my eyes. I looked up into >the skylight and silently screamed at God to please give me a pill to get >rid of this thing. please. To let me be a private person again, and not >have to wear my greatest pain like a sign, an open invitation to every well >meaning man and woman to jump up and remind me that I have Parkinson's >Disease, again, when I've finally reached a happy point in my day where its >presence in my life is the most farthest thought, when I am dreamily picking >out a little wooden cat that will peer over my mantle, or a glass vase to >arrange some dried flowers for the coffee table. > Tonight I was at a pot luck supper. Whenever someone new would come in >they'd always want to know in a quiet sadly smiley sort of way how I was >"feeeeeeeling". I felt, to be honest, like the neighbourhood victim of >squeezed out pity, a few smarting drops left over from Christmas. I went >and got my plate and felt brave enough to carry it in my relatively steady >left hand, while tottering my drink in my bouncy right hand. I was doing >splendidly..... was almost at my seat in the living room, when a kind dear >lady took my drink from me and said she'd hold it until I got my bearings. >I will never know if I would have made it or not. Another cozy chatty woman >nestled in beside me and after my telling her that I was having some down >days, cheerfully councilled that these feelings come and go, and that after >one experiences a depression for a while, there is quite a strong elation >when it leaves. > In a short while I was alone in the kitchen, crying, uncontrollably. My >dearest friend came in and pressed me to her heart, soothed and comforted >me. John and I gathered up our coats and made an awkward departure. > Sorry, these are sad notes to sing tonight. I really don't want advice >or wise commentary of what "should" have been said, done, or felt. What >can be said that hasn't already been said, thought, fiercely felt or vanely >acted upon..... Only one more thing. What did I do in response to these >people? These kind erring souls, these bitter messengers of my vanishing >independence? I smiled and said thank-you. A twice provoked pain. > Tomorrow I will go and pick up the form for my handicapped parking >permit. I smile when I think of how it'll feel the first time I use it and >some well meaning community conscious citizen, not recognizing my laboured >trembling under my winter coat and gloves, mistakes my ungainly walk for >trouble with the snow, freezes me in my tracks with, "Hey, you there, ya >know this is a handicapped parking zone? Ya gotta have a disability ta park >here." If only..... >