Wile E. Coyote, Spinoza, PD and Me. New Post over at the NWPF Community Blog

"The moment I realized there was going to be trouble, there was no time left to avoid it. I was rolling along at a respectable rate on a favorite part of a mid-town bike path, a bridge over a bright stream flowing through a lush greenbelt. The sun was out and the beta endorphins were flowing.

As I cruised across the bridge, my mind wandered. So did my bike." (Read the rest of this grisly tale here)

Inattention and Parkinson's: Walking on the Knife Edge

The following is from my blogging gig with the Northwest Parkinson's Foundation, republished by special arrangement.

 

 

A sudden stinging pain. A sickening realization: the car door was slammed on the fingers of my left hand. An instant of disbelief, how could this be happening? A struggle to beat back panic that grew with each nanosecond my captive hand was clamped in the merciless metal jaws of the door. A feeling of helplessness when it became clear I could not free myself. An urgent plea to my wife to OPEN THE FREAKIN’ DOOR!!!

No matter how many layers of bubble wrap you cover yourself with, no matter how carefully you choose your seat, no matter how deliberately you plan your route, there will be a moment when you let your defenses down. You might be too tired to notice the warning signs. You might be distracted by an attractive nuisance. Perhaps it plain may not occur to you that leaving your hand in the path of a door that might suddenly slam shut is a recipe for a pain sandwich. Or you may simply forget to keep your guard up, and then boom!

You are rudely reminded of your vulnerability.

This is true of anyone, but the consequences of inattention are more grave if you already have a serious condition like Parkinson’s Disease. Fall from a moment’s distraction, and you may break a hip. Then it’s off to the hospital, which as my father (a doctor) was fond of pointing out is no place for a sick person. Next thing you know you’re fighting for your life with an infected bed sore, and they’re measuring you for a coffin.

The thing is, not only is it impossible to avoid the vagaries of life, the random disasters of the universe, and plain old bad luck, even attempting to avoid them requires a level of paranoia that most of us can’t sustain. I don’t want to live a life of constantly sizing up situations for worst-case scenarios, and waiting for asteroids to drop out of the sky. Living in a cringe can lead to all kinds of leg-cramps, and besides, it’s exhausting. If I’m going to be exhausted, I want it to be from spending too much time on my bicycle, or from staying up too late playing music with friends. I sure don’t want to waste my time on the weariness that comes from hand wringing 24-7-365.

And speaking of wringing hands, my wife finally reached the release for the stubborn door that refused to relinquish my stinging fingers. I jerked my hand free, and gave it a close, cautious inspection, fearing the worst. The inspection yielded the joy of finding my fingers were still attached to my hand, and even more miraculously, were apparently still quite operative, having somehow escaped serious damage in spite of deep pinch marks. They have gone on to stage a complete recovery.

So it was a reminder. Bad things will happen unforeseen, painful and unpreventable. But maybe we are not as fragile as we think, Parkinson’s Disease and all. With Parkinson’s, I fall far more often than I ever thought I would. And it can be scary and consequential. But along with that, there is something else also unforeseen. I may fall more often than I would without PD, but I get up more often, too.

A Mercifully Short History of Bad Ideas

Don't be mislead by the title of this post. I have bad ideas to spare. In fact if you need any, call or email and I'll send you some of my overstock. This will be a mercifully short history because of the concentrated time period in which it takes place, not because of a sudden short supply of stupidity.

Our sorry tale begins on Labor Day. We had plans to go to the Alaska State Fair. My back was acting up for the first time in years and I decided it would be smart to stay home. This was a good idea. Probably the last one I had that day. Pam asked if she should stay home to keep an eye on me, but I didn't want her to miss those mammoth cabbages, weird looking chickens, and enormous hogs raised by improbably young members of the 4H club, so I said "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Stupid idea #1.

She wisely gave me a second chance to have her stick around which I declined citing the profoundly stupid point that I would likely be too proud to accept her help on anything consequential, so she might as well go enjoy herself and not worry about me. If you're keeping track this probably counts as bad idea #2.

Two or three hours into her absence my back began to act up with a sadistic streak unlike any thing I had ever experienced. After a long and inventive period of writhing around I discovered I could attain a measure of relief by lying on the floor and curling my legs up to my chest. Expecting Pam to return at any time I decided to kill the intervening hours by watching "Magnolia". Which I did on my back my legs curled up, the picture on the TV appearing upside down. You're probably thinking this was bad idea #3 but it was actually worth it. I love William H. Macy in this flick.

Eventually Pam returned and found me on the floor doubled up watching Macy get creamed by a rain of frogs. I lay down in the back of the Subaru and we drove at a smart clip to the emergency room. They loaded me up with 20 mg of Valium and when that didn't kill the spasms in my back muscles they threw in some morphine too. That worked. I even felt good enough to lecture Pam about how morphine was known as "Soldiers Joy" back in the Civil War, hence the name of the popular fiddle tune by the name of "Soldiers Joy". Music and drugs go way back together. Naturally Pam found this fascinating.

Armed with a prescription from the ER doctor for Valium to relax my back we drove to the all-night drug store, and picked up some little green pills. Boy did that do the trick! I became the very incarnation of mellow. I wasn't worried about anything. For instance walking around the house in the dark with a compromised sense of balance from PD further compromised by muscles relaxed by Valium. This led to a certain amount of banging and crashing as I rammed into walls and furniture. Bad idea #4? I think so.

At this point Pam began to get a touch irritated "What are you trying to prove?" She demanded. A reasonable question. I'm not sure of the answer. Maybe that she doesn't have to drive all the way to the State Fair for entertainment.