Like Father (and Mother?), Like Daughter

 Far right: my father

In the advanced stages of my father's Parkinson's disease, he was bedridden. He was also admitted to the hospital more than 50 (not an exaggeration) times in five years. It was a rough go for all involved. To witness this lion of industry, a business magnate who built a grocery empire, sidelined and vulnerable wasn't easy. For him, it was far worse, but he would never have let you know that. 

In his final years, he had caregivers 24/7. Their chief task was to roll him over on a regular basis to ameliorate his pain and discomfort. Blind from diabetes, he enjoyed listening to talk radio. Unable to eat solid food, he sucked on popsicles before enduring the indignity of a feeding tube. Despite his circumscribed circumstances, he didn't want to die. Always strident and of a stubborn sort, he was committed to finding joy in life until the very end. 

He died alone in his hospital bed. Pneumonia.

I visited him periodically and knew the ravages of Parkinson’s. What I didn't know then is that it was my future foretold.  

Six years before my diagnosis, my right index finger began to twitch. I told no one. Not my cat or my caregivers. This was my secret. 

I can live this with this, no problem, I thought.

When it became difficult to write because my hand was tensing up and shaking, I shrugged it off, still telling no one. When my balance started to go and it was dangerous for me to live alone, I hired up. Just like my dad. 24/7 care. 

I got a chariot. Some people would call it a walker which I find pedestrian—mine is regal. As fate would dictate, I am my mother's daughter in some ways.

Fortunately, I am able to keep some of my symptoms in abeyance with medications. Others have presented that are not easy to manage. Parkinson's, I'm learning the hard way, is not just about tremors. If you've seen Harrison Ford in Shrinking, you know this. It's a lot more. 

It robs you of you. The Parkinson's menu is surprising and unwelcome. I have (thankfully mild) auditory and visual hallucinations. I have nausea on a daily basis with an ever-present side of reflux. I experience severe depression and chronic insomnia, a cocktail recipe for energy depletion. The kicker? I have I have a chronic UTI which can put me six feet under. 

Recently these symptoms landed me in the hospital and led to sepsis.

Like my father, I wake up each day not knowing what symptoms will limit and govern me. The difference between us is that he wanted to tap into and feel happiness however he could until the bitter end. Me? Some days, yes. Other days, I'm more resigned and accepting of my fate, not unlike my mother dearest. 

The life I have lived, between birth and death, was uniquely my own.

​The beginning and end have brought me back to them. 
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