In the exercise class I am taking, we end almost every session with a song. Loss of voice is very common among PD folk. Today being Veteran's Day, our instructor thought we needed to sing something patriotic. She chose You're A Grand Old Flag for our exercise. First, the class takes turns reading one line each. Then, in unison, we all sing it without words..i.e. ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah, etc.
Finally, we get to sing the words at the top of our lungs. Now I can't get the song out of my mind. There is only one problem:
In 1976, our country celebrated its 200th birthday. We happened to be traveling in California on July 4th, the actual day for the big celebration. Our children had learned every possible patriotic song known to man in school that year and kept a steady stream of heartfelt music going for the family as we traveled.
At some point, it dawned on me that the words I was hearing Patty sing did not sound like the words coming out of everyone else's mouth.
Instead of singing "Forever in peace may you wave." She was singing "The hole in the freeway, the grave." Unfortunately, those are the words that stick in my mind when I sing this once loved song.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
An excellent hero
This morning, I baked cookies to take to a memorial service for one of my heroes. I know I have mentioned her before, but some things are simply worth repeating. John and I had the privilege of being invited into Forrest and Faye’s home on several occasions. Our first visit was on a sunny Sunday when we were invited, along with a young man and his little boy, to help harvest their corn crop.
As the wheelbarrows of corn were delivered from the well-tended garden, we husked them and removed the silky strings as best we could. The readied crop was then put into boxes to go to the church building for an “all you can eat” corn and melon fundraiser. Within a few weeks, her husband (Forrest) would make a trip of about 100 miles to buy boxes of fresh apples to be sold for another fundraiser. Then, a month later, items she had been making and collecting for the big “Holiday Fair” would be gathered. Often, I felt she may have paid more for what she sold than her asking price . Her focus was to raise money for Columbia Christian Schools and College.
The very first step I took into her lovely house, she warned me, “Don’t disturb the dust; I’m collecting.” At that moment, she became my hero. She often came up with surprising quips. She went to California once to stay with her grandkids while their parents took a trip, and one of the boys got the worst case of chicken pox I have ever seen. She shared photos of that experience.
One summer, a young couple asked if they could have their wedding in our back yard, and we said, “Certainly!” It seems the bride left town for a vacation with her parents a little over one week before the wedding, and the groom knew nothing about plans for their special day. The day before the wedding the bride returned to discuss with us seating, food, speaker system, parking, etc. John had worked all summer to keep our lawn green and to make the setting lovely. The morning of the wedding came and food was delivered. When Faye and Forrest arrived fashionably early, she asked who was helping in the kitchen. That’s when I learned the young bride had not even considered that little detail. Faye put on an apron and commandeered my kitchen for the entire wedding. Since then, the bride has apologized numerous times; she did not realize how labor intensive a wedding can be.
Faye was competent, confident, and gracious, capable, generous, and kind and so very thoughtful of others.
As the wheelbarrows of corn were delivered from the well-tended garden, we husked them and removed the silky strings as best we could. The readied crop was then put into boxes to go to the church building for an “all you can eat” corn and melon fundraiser. Within a few weeks, her husband (Forrest) would make a trip of about 100 miles to buy boxes of fresh apples to be sold for another fundraiser. Then, a month later, items she had been making and collecting for the big “Holiday Fair” would be gathered. Often, I felt she may have paid more for what she sold than her asking price . Her focus was to raise money for Columbia Christian Schools and College.
The very first step I took into her lovely house, she warned me, “Don’t disturb the dust; I’m collecting.” At that moment, she became my hero. She often came up with surprising quips. She went to California once to stay with her grandkids while their parents took a trip, and one of the boys got the worst case of chicken pox I have ever seen. She shared photos of that experience.
One summer, a young couple asked if they could have their wedding in our back yard, and we said, “Certainly!” It seems the bride left town for a vacation with her parents a little over one week before the wedding, and the groom knew nothing about plans for their special day. The day before the wedding the bride returned to discuss with us seating, food, speaker system, parking, etc. John had worked all summer to keep our lawn green and to make the setting lovely. The morning of the wedding came and food was delivered. When Faye and Forrest arrived fashionably early, she asked who was helping in the kitchen. That’s when I learned the young bride had not even considered that little detail. Faye put on an apron and commandeered my kitchen for the entire wedding. Since then, the bride has apologized numerous times; she did not realize how labor intensive a wedding can be.
Faye was competent, confident, and gracious, capable, generous, and kind and so very thoughtful of others.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Planned obsolecence
Yesterday, I wore out the sponge on my mop. Naturally, either entropy or Murphy’s Law (or maybe both) had something to do with it because I had just completed the Spic n Span layer. When I went to the basin to get the rinse water, the sponge split and became unusable. “No problem,” I says to myself. “I’ll just take that one off and buy a new one.”
Since we are only 1.5 miles from the nearest WalMart, I decided to shop for the replacement there. I got a parking spot really close to the door leading to the housewares section of the store. After some 10 minutes of winding back and forth on every aisle of that section, I finally asked a worker where the mops might be. She sent me to aisle 10 in the grocery section of the store. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” I wondered.
After that 1/2-mile hike, I was relieved to see an employee stocking that very shelf. She really wanted me to take the yellow sponges, but I knew exactly which one was needed to complete the task. When I arrived home, I went straight to the laundry room to install the new sponge only to discover the new one had two protrusions the old one was missing. Thinking maybe we could get some good metal cutters and make it workable, I went to ask the resident expert on the subject.
He pointed out to me that the old sponge had a threaded screw that was missing in the new one. So, I set that activity aside until tomorrow, which is now today. The refund was easily obtained; they did not even want to know why I was returning my purchase, And, sure enough, there was nothing that even came close to being the right piece. And now we know that Target also does not carry the item. I could buy a completely new mop for only $2 more than the cost of a refill, but what does one do with a perfectly good plastic stick? Even Goodwill will not take that donation.
My hubby thinks we can find exactly what we need by checking every store that could possibly carry mops. Meanwhile, our shoes stick to the floor reminding us of the urgent need to solve this problem. It’s a good thing I have a good collection of rags.
Since we are only 1.5 miles from the nearest WalMart, I decided to shop for the replacement there. I got a parking spot really close to the door leading to the housewares section of the store. After some 10 minutes of winding back and forth on every aisle of that section, I finally asked a worker where the mops might be. She sent me to aisle 10 in the grocery section of the store. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” I wondered.
After that 1/2-mile hike, I was relieved to see an employee stocking that very shelf. She really wanted me to take the yellow sponges, but I knew exactly which one was needed to complete the task. When I arrived home, I went straight to the laundry room to install the new sponge only to discover the new one had two protrusions the old one was missing. Thinking maybe we could get some good metal cutters and make it workable, I went to ask the resident expert on the subject.
He pointed out to me that the old sponge had a threaded screw that was missing in the new one. So, I set that activity aside until tomorrow, which is now today. The refund was easily obtained; they did not even want to know why I was returning my purchase, And, sure enough, there was nothing that even came close to being the right piece. And now we know that Target also does not carry the item. I could buy a completely new mop for only $2 more than the cost of a refill, but what does one do with a perfectly good plastic stick? Even Goodwill will not take that donation.
My hubby thinks we can find exactly what we need by checking every store that could possibly carry mops. Meanwhile, our shoes stick to the floor reminding us of the urgent need to solve this problem. It’s a good thing I have a good collection of rags.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Waking Up
So…you thought I had disappeared off the face of this earth? I may as well have when it came to blogging. I made the horrible mistake of taking my one-and-only list of passwords on a trip and losing it. Then, too, I could not recall my user name for blogging; and no matter what I tried, I could not gain entrance to my own blogsite. Well, finally John stuck with the problem long enough to help me out of the mess I created. Now I am onto other pursuits.
My last blog was April 25th. There has certainly been a lot of water under the proverbial bridge since then. If I could have blogged, I would have written about the following:
Of greatest importance was the exciting news of the birth of grandson #2 – Lucas JOHN Wyatt. He traveled here with his parents and big brother Eli to see us. I had the privilege of holding him every morning from 5 til 8 a.m. What bliss! It did not look like David and Geoffrey would be able to get together during that visit, but David surprised everyone.
For our 46th anniversary, John took me out to dinner and to experience the Broadway play The Lion King. Awesome!
Our one-and-only trip this summer was an annual campout with all of our Washington-resident family. This was our third time to meet at Ohanapecosh Forest Camp near Mount Rainier for a funfilled weekend.
I also volunteered my body to three new studies on Parkinson’s disease. Now, PeDee and I are back and ready to share some of our adventures.
Just to let you know, I was not completely idle through this dry spell. I did write about each of the mentioned activities; but I think I will begin blogging from a clean slate. Stay tuned.
My last blog was April 25th. There has certainly been a lot of water under the proverbial bridge since then. If I could have blogged, I would have written about the following:
Of greatest importance was the exciting news of the birth of grandson #2 – Lucas JOHN Wyatt. He traveled here with his parents and big brother Eli to see us. I had the privilege of holding him every morning from 5 til 8 a.m. What bliss! It did not look like David and Geoffrey would be able to get together during that visit, but David surprised everyone.
For our 46th anniversary, John took me out to dinner and to experience the Broadway play The Lion King. Awesome!
Our one-and-only trip this summer was an annual campout with all of our Washington-resident family. This was our third time to meet at Ohanapecosh Forest Camp near Mount Rainier for a funfilled weekend.
I also volunteered my body to three new studies on Parkinson’s disease. Now, PeDee and I are back and ready to share some of our adventures.
Just to let you know, I was not completely idle through this dry spell. I did write about each of the mentioned activities; but I think I will begin blogging from a clean slate. Stay tuned.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
PeDee Takes Seattle
I apologize for the delay in this continuing saga, but my computer has had a limp.
When our children decided to give their septuagenarian father a fun-filled birthday present, they chose to meet in Seattle during Spring Break and do the Emerald City – whatever that meant. You see, his birthday is in January; but the earliest all the kids and grandkids could get together would be April. I expected to be the “odd man out.” Even if the invitation automatically would include me, I knew from past experience I would not have the stamina to climb the hills (rivaled only by San Francisco), maneuver the throngs of people, manage stairs, or stand in long lines. I figured PeDee and I would stay in whatever accommodations were arranged or, better yet, stay home. I should have known better. The day before we were to make the trip North, our oldest called to suggest I go online and look at rentable wheelchairs.
First morning/first thing, while everyone else toured the Seattle Central Library and Elliot Bookstore’s moving sale, my son drove me to Access Medical Equipment to select just the right chair for PeDee and me. The clerk showed us immediately the best wheelchair for the occasion. She did warn that we could expect some challenging terrain. I could just picture how that would go – sitting…abandoned…wondering where my transporter had gone or, worse yet, seeing him or her across a crowded area but unable to get their attention that I needed to be moved.
I won’t bore you with the details of how it came about, but by the time we left Access, PeDee was riding on a shiny little red scooter (hereafter to be referred to as the LRS) that could be broken down into five pieces. After turning the key, I had only to remember to choose my speed (turtle…..rabbit) and the right knob meant forward and the left meant backward. Dropping PeDee and me and the little red scooter (LRS) in front of Ivars restaurant where the lines were already forming for lunch orders, David went to park his vehicle. Meanwhile, I tootled to what I considered to be a nonconspicuous spot and parked, waiting for anyone from our group to join me. Within minutes the beggar carrying his cardboard “desperate” sign moved from down the way to position himself between the street and me.
Finally, our group of 14 convened and told me we had reservations to eat indoors. Driving the LRS in “hare,” I was able to keep up as we were ushered to Ivar’s very back table. As I entered that last room, the bump caused by the doorsill rendered LRS useless and completely blocked the doorway. Nothing I tried would restart it. A couple or more strong arms moved the dead vehicle into the corner of the room while we ate. After lunch, David was able to reassemble and resurrect the dead red scooter.
By the time we had eaten, it was decided to take the Harbor Tour next. While some of the group shopped for souvenirs and others purchased the tour tickets, PD and I stayed to the side. Instantly, a tour guide came up to me and said, “As soon as you have your tickets, let me know. We will put you at the front of the line.”
“There are 14 of us.”
“No problem.”
And so it was that we assembled for the group photo and were ushered onto the boat ahead of the crowd. PD was happily seated with a perfect view of Seattle City and constant narrative about the sights.
The next challenge was to cross the street to the parking garage and locate the elevator to Pike’s Market. How do I describe Pike’s Market? It is a very crowded public market. Some of the vendors stock and sell items they have created themselves (jewelry, tee shirts, note cards, CD’s, etc.); others hock fresh fruits and vegetables. What I wanted to see was the arrangements of bouquets of flowers (tulips, baby’s breath, and pussy willows). The group was to reconvene at the “flying fish” market. Try to imagine the ending of a ballgame or play when everyone is trying to exit and not lose sight of their party. Now, imagine that they are squeezed into a narrow aisle and are stopping every few feet to talk to vendors. To this mix, imagine a lady whose mode of transportation (LRS) dies ever time she stops. Now you have a hint of my experience. Each time the LRS died, I had to turn it off and back on to proceed to our rendezvous point.
It would be two days before Access would be able to swap the scooter so it was left in the car, and the decision was made to just return it. My diamond willow walking stick did not leave my sight while our tour continued. At the Science Center, Patty traded her identification for a wheelchair, and she and Geoffrey took turns pushing me. The most interesting elevator of the entire Seattle experience ushered us into the world of dinosaurs, visual illusions, and live butterflies. One wall of the elevator was transparent, and we could see into the room we were about to enter; the floor of that room was about knee high. Pushing the button to go up, we watched as the elevator inched its way even with the floor, a ride that took a couple of minutes.
Sunday morning worship and lunch with dear friends, REI, Space Needle, PeDee liked Seattle. He loved being with family – observing cousins and Aunts and Uncles interacting, and Papa John eating up this special birthday gift.
When our children decided to give their septuagenarian father a fun-filled birthday present, they chose to meet in Seattle during Spring Break and do the Emerald City – whatever that meant. You see, his birthday is in January; but the earliest all the kids and grandkids could get together would be April. I expected to be the “odd man out.” Even if the invitation automatically would include me, I knew from past experience I would not have the stamina to climb the hills (rivaled only by San Francisco), maneuver the throngs of people, manage stairs, or stand in long lines. I figured PeDee and I would stay in whatever accommodations were arranged or, better yet, stay home. I should have known better. The day before we were to make the trip North, our oldest called to suggest I go online and look at rentable wheelchairs.
First morning/first thing, while everyone else toured the Seattle Central Library and Elliot Bookstore’s moving sale, my son drove me to Access Medical Equipment to select just the right chair for PeDee and me. The clerk showed us immediately the best wheelchair for the occasion. She did warn that we could expect some challenging terrain. I could just picture how that would go – sitting…abandoned…wondering where my transporter had gone or, worse yet, seeing him or her across a crowded area but unable to get their attention that I needed to be moved.
I won’t bore you with the details of how it came about, but by the time we left Access, PeDee was riding on a shiny little red scooter (hereafter to be referred to as the LRS) that could be broken down into five pieces. After turning the key, I had only to remember to choose my speed (turtle…..rabbit) and the right knob meant forward and the left meant backward. Dropping PeDee and me and the little red scooter (LRS) in front of Ivars restaurant where the lines were already forming for lunch orders, David went to park his vehicle. Meanwhile, I tootled to what I considered to be a nonconspicuous spot and parked, waiting for anyone from our group to join me. Within minutes the beggar carrying his cardboard “desperate” sign moved from down the way to position himself between the street and me.
Finally, our group of 14 convened and told me we had reservations to eat indoors. Driving the LRS in “hare,” I was able to keep up as we were ushered to Ivar’s very back table. As I entered that last room, the bump caused by the doorsill rendered LRS useless and completely blocked the doorway. Nothing I tried would restart it. A couple or more strong arms moved the dead vehicle into the corner of the room while we ate. After lunch, David was able to reassemble and resurrect the dead red scooter.
By the time we had eaten, it was decided to take the Harbor Tour next. While some of the group shopped for souvenirs and others purchased the tour tickets, PD and I stayed to the side. Instantly, a tour guide came up to me and said, “As soon as you have your tickets, let me know. We will put you at the front of the line.”
“There are 14 of us.”
“No problem.”
And so it was that we assembled for the group photo and were ushered onto the boat ahead of the crowd. PD was happily seated with a perfect view of Seattle City and constant narrative about the sights.
The next challenge was to cross the street to the parking garage and locate the elevator to Pike’s Market. How do I describe Pike’s Market? It is a very crowded public market. Some of the vendors stock and sell items they have created themselves (jewelry, tee shirts, note cards, CD’s, etc.); others hock fresh fruits and vegetables. What I wanted to see was the arrangements of bouquets of flowers (tulips, baby’s breath, and pussy willows). The group was to reconvene at the “flying fish” market. Try to imagine the ending of a ballgame or play when everyone is trying to exit and not lose sight of their party. Now, imagine that they are squeezed into a narrow aisle and are stopping every few feet to talk to vendors. To this mix, imagine a lady whose mode of transportation (LRS) dies ever time she stops. Now you have a hint of my experience. Each time the LRS died, I had to turn it off and back on to proceed to our rendezvous point.
It would be two days before Access would be able to swap the scooter so it was left in the car, and the decision was made to just return it. My diamond willow walking stick did not leave my sight while our tour continued. At the Science Center, Patty traded her identification for a wheelchair, and she and Geoffrey took turns pushing me. The most interesting elevator of the entire Seattle experience ushered us into the world of dinosaurs, visual illusions, and live butterflies. One wall of the elevator was transparent, and we could see into the room we were about to enter; the floor of that room was about knee high. Pushing the button to go up, we watched as the elevator inched its way even with the floor, a ride that took a couple of minutes.
Sunday morning worship and lunch with dear friends, REI, Space Needle, PeDee liked Seattle. He loved being with family – observing cousins and Aunts and Uncles interacting, and Papa John eating up this special birthday gift.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
PeDee Untethered
Now that PeDee has been released, he is actually allowed out in public. Two weeks ago, I volunteered my body at Oregon Health & Science University (OHSU) for another research study. Let me just state, right here, anyone can volunteer for medical research. Folks with little or no ailments are needed for the “control” group; their data are used for comparing the afflicted with normal.
I was asked to stay off PeDee’s medication for at least 12 hours before showing up for the study. If PeDee would not be recognized in public by my slowed gait or body rattle, he would certainly be noticed by my beautiful Diamond Willow walking stick. John allowed an hour to transport me during the morning Rush hour; and, this time, we were early. Kelsey met us at 8 a.m. sharp and guided us through the catacombs of the Hatfield building to a small, equipment-crowded room to meet Brent. These two students would be testing PeDee’s wits and balance while on and while off medication. Meanwhile, John took the tram down to the trolley and enjoyed a Portland-city morning.
The study went fine…the selected words to remember for the morning were face, velvet, church, daisy, and red. CHECK. Some may question this, but I believe PeDee’s mind is intact. The worst part of the study was balance -- trusting the researcher enough to lean all of my weight against her hands, which were placed firmly on my shoulder blades and knowing that she would let go. Stepping backwards is particularly scary for elephants.
Perhaps in the near future, the Development of the Instrumented Test of Mobility will benefit others with Parkinson Disease.
* Thank you to my friend Anita for labeling this blog upon reading Meet PeDee..
Stay tune for the next installment of PeDee’s adventures – PeDee Takes Seattle
I was asked to stay off PeDee’s medication for at least 12 hours before showing up for the study. If PeDee would not be recognized in public by my slowed gait or body rattle, he would certainly be noticed by my beautiful Diamond Willow walking stick. John allowed an hour to transport me during the morning Rush hour; and, this time, we were early. Kelsey met us at 8 a.m. sharp and guided us through the catacombs of the Hatfield building to a small, equipment-crowded room to meet Brent. These two students would be testing PeDee’s wits and balance while on and while off medication. Meanwhile, John took the tram down to the trolley and enjoyed a Portland-city morning.
The study went fine…the selected words to remember for the morning were face, velvet, church, daisy, and red. CHECK. Some may question this, but I believe PeDee’s mind is intact. The worst part of the study was balance -- trusting the researcher enough to lean all of my weight against her hands, which were placed firmly on my shoulder blades and knowing that she would let go. Stepping backwards is particularly scary for elephants.
Perhaps in the near future, the Development of the Instrumented Test of Mobility will benefit others with Parkinson Disease.
* Thank you to my friend Anita for labeling this blog upon reading Meet PeDee..
Stay tune for the next installment of PeDee’s adventures – PeDee Takes Seattle
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Meet PeDee
The time is right to introduce the world to our resident elephant. PeDee moved in with our family practically unnoticed almost 20 years ago. He was not much trouble. Why, he did not even need to be fed the first five years. Up until recently, as long as no one mentioned him, he required little care.
I recall the exact moment PeDee announced his existence to the world. The location was not in our house as I had always expected; it was in the security line at the airport. I was sure I had left our resident pachyderm at home. However, much like a grandchild always packing a stuffed animal for security when they come for a visit, PeDee had slipped unnoticed into my carryon luggage. After showing our identification and boarding pass to the first security official, John inquired how long it would take to get through the screening process.
“Eight to ten minutes,” was the official’s reply as we merged into the hoards of people shuffling along at a snail’s pace. They seemingly took no notice of my bouncing body. For some reason, my medications were not doing their job that particular morning. As I tried to stand upright and act calm, my tremor started with my toes and moved upward until my entire body was at a full-boil rattle, and my head was turning side to side. I knew instinctively the skimpy barrier straps would be of little use if my body decided to topple over. I grabbed each flimsy pole through which the straps were threaded for anything sturdy to hang onto.
“You have chosen the Happy line this morning,” the charming, young people mover was announcing. “If you are not happy, you are in the wrong lane. Please move to another line.” I knew to not try changing lines unless I was ready to reveal PeDee to the world.
Meanwhile, my legs were so weak, and my body was going like a jackhammer. At last, I removed my shoes and placed everything on the conveyor belt to be xrayed. Then I stepped through the metal-detector arch without removing my jacket. I must have set something off because rather than having me step back through the sensor station, this guard used his wand and declared me harmless.
At that instant, PeDee emerged from my luggage, exploding beyond full growth for any elephant, rearing his head and blaring his trumpet unreserved. I am certain the entire terminal shook as the happy people-mover lady left her station to offer me assistance. She asked if she could help me with my shoes. I gladly accepted. Then, she asked me if I needed a wheelchair.
What occurred next surprised even me. From my own lips slipped the words, “Oh! Please!” We waited a couple of minutes for the day’s hero (that person being the wheelchair driver) to whisk me away to the front of the boarding line.
Since allowing PeDee out of his silent world, I have introduced him to anyone who will listen. I also have probably overused announcing the fact that I have Parkinsons Disease.
I feel that I need to explain the description “There is an elephant in our living room.” To me, this means that there is a huge problem in the household, and as long as family and visitors alike do not acknowledge its existence, we think everyone can be deceived. Folks may tread all around the subject, and perhaps even deny its presence.
One might wonder how our house guest came to be called PeDee. Very often, I receive medical literature. In recent years, I have noticed a reference to PDP, but could not find an explanation of its meaning. After several of these reference newsletters, I deduced that PDP stood for Parkinsons Disease People...thus naming the ever-present reminder of my very human flaw.
My reader can expect to hear more elephant stories in the future.
I recall the exact moment PeDee announced his existence to the world. The location was not in our house as I had always expected; it was in the security line at the airport. I was sure I had left our resident pachyderm at home. However, much like a grandchild always packing a stuffed animal for security when they come for a visit, PeDee had slipped unnoticed into my carryon luggage. After showing our identification and boarding pass to the first security official, John inquired how long it would take to get through the screening process.
“Eight to ten minutes,” was the official’s reply as we merged into the hoards of people shuffling along at a snail’s pace. They seemingly took no notice of my bouncing body. For some reason, my medications were not doing their job that particular morning. As I tried to stand upright and act calm, my tremor started with my toes and moved upward until my entire body was at a full-boil rattle, and my head was turning side to side. I knew instinctively the skimpy barrier straps would be of little use if my body decided to topple over. I grabbed each flimsy pole through which the straps were threaded for anything sturdy to hang onto.
“You have chosen the Happy line this morning,” the charming, young people mover was announcing. “If you are not happy, you are in the wrong lane. Please move to another line.” I knew to not try changing lines unless I was ready to reveal PeDee to the world.
Meanwhile, my legs were so weak, and my body was going like a jackhammer. At last, I removed my shoes and placed everything on the conveyor belt to be xrayed. Then I stepped through the metal-detector arch without removing my jacket. I must have set something off because rather than having me step back through the sensor station, this guard used his wand and declared me harmless.
At that instant, PeDee emerged from my luggage, exploding beyond full growth for any elephant, rearing his head and blaring his trumpet unreserved. I am certain the entire terminal shook as the happy people-mover lady left her station to offer me assistance. She asked if she could help me with my shoes. I gladly accepted. Then, she asked me if I needed a wheelchair.
What occurred next surprised even me. From my own lips slipped the words, “Oh! Please!” We waited a couple of minutes for the day’s hero (that person being the wheelchair driver) to whisk me away to the front of the boarding line.
Since allowing PeDee out of his silent world, I have introduced him to anyone who will listen. I also have probably overused announcing the fact that I have Parkinsons Disease.
I feel that I need to explain the description “There is an elephant in our living room.” To me, this means that there is a huge problem in the household, and as long as family and visitors alike do not acknowledge its existence, we think everyone can be deceived. Folks may tread all around the subject, and perhaps even deny its presence.
One might wonder how our house guest came to be called PeDee. Very often, I receive medical literature. In recent years, I have noticed a reference to PDP, but could not find an explanation of its meaning. After several of these reference newsletters, I deduced that PDP stood for Parkinsons Disease People...thus naming the ever-present reminder of my very human flaw.
My reader can expect to hear more elephant stories in the future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
