Me and Wii (part four)

(Want to start with part one? It's right here.)

I should have seen it coming. The warnings were in plain sight, and I thought I was being careful. Still, I wasn't prepared, and Wii treachery took me by surprise when it struck with brazen impunity.

So what happened? Well, there I was, running in place in our living room, enjoying a fine view of the virtual scenery as it rolled past, along with the friendly attention of the animated joggers, strollers and sundry passers-by, and marveling at the fact that none of the animated dogs running free in this best-of-all-possible-worlds ever soiled the candy-colored landscape.

The Wii was annoying me by harping on how I was not maintaining a steady pace. I was actually having a borderline "off" period, my meds flickering, and at times my legs would refuse to pick my feet up from the floor. When my feet stuck to the floor I would resort to a pitiful hopping motion to fool the sensor into thinking I was running.

Then the meds kicked in and I picked up the pace. The Wii was not pleased. "you're going too fast!" it warned, assuming its "Hal 2001" persona. "Yeah, and you're playing insipid music and projecting cheesy graphics, but do I criticize you?" I thought to myself, (And, for those of you objecting out there that I am criticizing the Wii right now in this very post, hush! Whose side are you on?)

That's when it happened. Just to show which of us was the boss hog of this house, I upped the "speed" and my avatar sprinted across the screen for the finish line. And the Wii tripped him!

Incredulous, I stared at him/me sprawled on the path. The other figures in the area all ignored the crumpled form, obviously afraid of incurring the wrath of the Wii and suffering a similar fate. Indignation replaced shock and I jogged the final steps to the finish. Maybe there's more Sadistic Gym Coach With a Beer Gut and Precambrian Sense of Humor in the Wii than I thought.

Exercise, Wii Not?

So you hate exercise more than you hate Parkinson's Disease? You must really hate exercise. I could cite chapter and verse about why you should love it, or, failing love, at least have a tawdry, cheap affair with it. But who am I to browbeat you into doing something you dislike? Over at Parkinson's Disease Exercise ,there's a nifty report about using video games to make exercise *GASP!* enjoyable.

According to their post

"... researchers from the Medical College of Georgia (MCG) showed how just four weeks of play exacted marked improvements in patients suffering from Parkinson’s at varying degrees of severity. Using games that require finesse in bilateral movement, eye-hand coordination, and figure-ground relationship is an ideal way to help a person afflicted with a disease that impairs motor skills. Playing rounds of Wii tennis, bowling, and boxing three times a week for a month was all the longer it took to see changes."

Although I am a mild-mannered, gentle soul, I am surprisingly attracted to the idea of Wii boxing. I see myself in the role of Joe Louis, (there is only one Ali) and Parkinson's in the role of my hapless opponent.

It's round four. Adrenalin is pumping. My opponent senses that he has been overconfident. I jab a right to the midriff, an uppercut to the jaw. A little fancy festination footwork sets up a roundhouse swing... and a sudden shower of sweat explodes from the face of the PD Palooka as my glove lands a shattering clout to his nose. Huffing like a hyperventilating rhino he sways. His eyes fill with shock, confusion and impotent rage. He totters and plunges face-down to the mat with a wet smack that reverberates above the roar of the hysterical crowd. Light bulbs flash to the cadence of the ref counting off the ritual certification of a knockout. I lean over my stricken opponent, smile, and say "Are we still on for tennis tomorrow?"

The beauty here is how fantasy feeds back in a positive way to reality. An act of imagination leads to better management of The Beast. And at the very least, we can now go down swinging.