Me and Wii (part five: Flying disembodied Panda Heads)

Part freakin' FIVE? I agree, this is taking things a little far, and I promise to move on in the next post. Just hang in a bit longer while I wrap things up. The motivation for this series is serious. There have been many recent articles on how great the Wii is for people with Parkinson's Disease. Check out my favorite, courtesy of the British tab The Sun Banker stopped Parkinson's Disease by playing on Wii (thanks, Jo). This article touted the Wii's miraculous healing powers as being just short of those of the deceased Pope John Paul II, who is inching toward canonization thanks to his alleged miraculous cure of a nun supposed to have Parkinson's. No word yet whether there was a Wii involved.

Aside from the hype, why care about the Wii? First, many people with Parkinson's are unable or unwilling to leave the house for exercise. The Wii allows one to exercise at home, and in case you didn't hear me the first three (thousand) times, exercise is critical to managing PD. Second, one of the categories of skill the Wii tries to work is balance. Balance is a big area of concern to those of us who have PD. It is also one of the more intractable sides of the disorder. When I ask experts about what we can do maintain balance, there is little they can offer. The most practical advice came from a neurologist who advised honing your balance skills before falling becomes a problem. His idea is that if you "overcompensate" up front in the balance area you will have a longer glide-path down than if you neglect these skills before they are seriously menaced by PD.

This leads me to my two questions about the Wii. The first question: Is it interesting enough to keep a person exercising at home? The second: Can the Wii fortify balance in PD patients significantly over time? Alas, the answer to both these questions as tested unscientifically by one person with a huge stake in the answer will not be conclusive. One person is a pitifully small study sample and there are no control subjects. But with Parkinson's so much that is unknown that those of us afflicted must play our hunches as much as we responsibly can. With that in mind, this series will continue. But not until I get a significant amount of time under my belt with the thing so that I can render, perhaps, a little judgment on those questions.

In the space of a month, what have I learned about the Wii? There are a great variety of activities. This bodes well for prospects of continuing to exercise without being derailed by boredom. The experience can have a striking resemblance to reality. Ironically this is especially vivid when something surreal is happening, like getting struck in the face by a flying, disembodied Panda head. And one can genuinely work up a real sweat exercising with imaginary companions. There are certainly aspects of the Wii that are off-putting. Call me oversensitive, but I find garish color and cloying graphics well, garish and cloying. But so far, on balance the machine is ambitious and successful as one part of my exercise routine.

Me and Wii (part three)

Now we're getting somewhere. I finally worked up a sweat with my machine. Who would have guessed that Hula Hooping was so aerobic? Or so maddening. Having PD really brings out the bumps and the grind of the old bump-and-grind. What looks so easy to do is mysteriously difficult for me. And seriously addictive. I went for 45 minutes, by the end of which I was panting and sweating.

Those 45 minutes were logged desperately attempting to keep the damn hoop from trickling out of momentum and spiraling down to my ankles, whereupon my avatar (the figure representing me onscreen) would look a mite sheepish and affect an unfazed attitude while a sign flashed "Failed... Failed... Failed". Ouch.

The Wii seems to have a split personality. The machine has several ways it tries to make nice. A recurring figure as you go through the various menus and activities is an animated version of the balance board that is obsequious and eager as a puppy, all quivers and goo-goo eyes. And as you struggle with activities helpful tips appear onscreen "The trick is to swing your hips in a neat, wide circle" Then out of nowhere, Dr. Jekyll morphs into Mr. Hyde. The machine turns around and brutally labels you a failure for not being able to magically keep an imaginary hoop of plastic out of the clutches of imaginary gravity. One expects to look down suddenly to find the obsequious imaginary balance board having an imaginary go at one's imaginary leg.

I'm beginning to feel a little like John Henry, the steel drivin' railroad man, competing with the steam drill with his human dignity on the line. How about it, Wii? Why not offer spike driving as an aerobic choice? Hammer's gonna be the death of me, Lord, Lord, Hammer's gonna be the death of me.

(Looking for part one? It's right here. And part two? That's here.)

Me and Wii (Part One)

I'm old enough to remember when television was supposed to be bad for us. I'm almost old enough to forget this as well, but let's not dwell on that sad state of affairs. Instead, I want to dwell on a different sad state of affairs. Now where was I?... oh yes, TV... Nowadays we don't have mere television, we have interactive video gaming, which is supposed to help us parkies with balance and fitness. It's TV that, darn it, is good for you! Ever eager to mix the unmixable, in this instance fun, and Parkinson's Disease, I obtained a Wii and a balance board. I then plugged in, turned on, and prepared to enjoy a rollicking workout.

The Wii had other plans. It began by asking me a series of questions about my height, age, and weight. Then it asked me to step up on the balance board while it did a little calculating. That done, it proceeded to tell me I am 22 pounds overweight and 65 years old in Wii Years! I'm 52.

You know you are living in modern times when your possessions can insult you.

A bit nonplussed, I let it slide and prepared to take a simple balance test. I don't mean to brag but I think that my balance is pretty good, considering my circumstances. I felt confident about my performance on the test. My machine begged to differ "I guess balance is not your forté" the machine informed me, dripping cyber sarcasm all over my misguided little sense of adequacy. I had to check the game box and make sure I didn't have a copy of "Wii Insult Comic" but it assured me that I had "Wii Fit".

Then the machine turned all fake-concerned and asked me if I wanted to lose weight, and if so, how much and how fast. This led to protracted negotiations and much refinement of my button-pushing skills. Great way to lose weight, button pushing. Finally we arrived at mutually agreeable goals. I was left to reflect that I never got along with coaches well, and in that sense, virtual reality was eerily similar to real reality. The main difference was that instead of being abused by a hairy man with a huge beer gut and a Precambrian sense of humor, I was being abused by a virtual icon of a piece of plastic electronic equipment with no beer gut and no sense of humor. It was then I remembered my forté, and, coordinating my deft right arm with my exquisitely nimble 65- year-old hand, I turned the little SOB off.