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.