Not Today
You may remember the catchy Jimmy Rogers tune about not being able to roller skate in a buffalo herd or take a shower in a parakeet cage. It goes on to say:
But you can be happy if you’ve a mind to
All ya gotta do is put your mind to it
Knuckle down, buckle down, do it, do it, do it
I’m typically a glass-half-full kind of person, but on days like today, the being-happy bit isn’t any easier than rolling through a big herd or splashing around in a birdcage. Today is too hard. Today feels impossible.
“You have Parkinson’s,” the doctor said five years ago. I wasn’t really surprised, since I’d spent the prior four months plugging my symptoms into Google – a slight tremor in my left ring finger, slow movements, and difficulty writing and typing. It’s a lifetime sentence meted out to about 90,000 people in the U.S. every year, so I have lots of company. Some days that helps, but not today
Today I need time to cry because I don’t feel good. To take a break from trying to act “normal.” To mourn the loss of abilities like playing guitar. To worry about what’s coming in the years ahead. And yes, to feel sorry for myself for just one day.
Tomorrow, I’ll count my blessings and knuckle down, buckle down to find that happiness. My life is still filled with family to love, kind friends who care, familiar routines that matter, and thoughts of new adventures ahead. Tomorrow will be OK, but not today. Today is just too hard.
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Note: I wanted to start writing stories around my experiences with Parkinson’s from a positive point of view. It seemed a bit disingenuous since there’s much about the disease that’s not so rosy and just dang hard. I’m pretty sure that most people who are dealing with this disease or MS or fibromyalgia or depression or other chronic issues face days where their problems seem overwhelming. I wanted to validate that reality before writing more hopeful stories.