September 24, 2015

"6:00pm, Sept. 22, 2015. Kitchen. Trying to move past Julie in close qtrs. Could not step forward, fell, skinning right knee and elbow."

The above entry from my Fall Log recounting my latest Misadventure In Walking tells you everything and nothing you need to know about what I've been up to since my last entry in this diary on the first of May. Everything because it shows that I am still struggling, I guess, and yet nothing because it does not reflect the preceding two months when I did not fall, despite having plenty of wobbly opportunities to do so, a fact I attribute to three walks a day whether I need 'em or not, and which allows me the perfect opportunity to apply my personal philosophy of opti-pessimism, which always expects the best possible worst outcome, in looking toward the future.

But first, The Fall, if only because it was an almost perfect example of the sort of crap I'm expected to put up with since Parkinson's Disease entered my life. Julie and I were standing right next to each other in our tiny, very Brady kitchen with its orange Formica countertops having a perfectly pleasant conversation when I decided to move out of the corner where we stood. Here's where our recollections diverge, at least somewhat: she remembers seeing me attempt to turn or more properly pivot, whereas in my memory, I simply attempted to step forward into the center of the room. Whatever the case — and I think hers is more likely the more accurate memory because it points to a problem I have with turning around — as I attempted to move out of that corner, I found that my feet were frozen in place, and I mean frozen, as in, would not move. At which point my forward momentum sent my whole body careening to the floor.

Well, needless to say, it hurt like a bitch, though thankfully, I didn't attempt to brace myself with my hands as I went down, thus avoiding a broken wrist, merely coming away with a nicely skinned right knee and matching elbow. Julie helped me get to my feet, a task in itself, then iced down the knee and elbow, and now as I recount this latest exploit less than 48 hours later, I find myself no worse for wear. In fact, the whole thing is no big deal. At the same time, I have to say that contrary to last spring's lessons from my guardian angel, Godfrey (Slow Down, Watch Where You're Going, and One Thing At A Time most prominent among them), that this mishap teaches me one thing only: Don't Have Parkinson's. All of which is to say that there ain't no advice — or even the helping hands of a guardian angel, apparently — that can help with freezing, that I have learned.

So the good news is this: while I still struggle with them every day, the three enemies that led, at least in part, to my giving up this diary last spring seem to have decreased in their virulence. Whatever fear that still preys on me — and make no mistake in the aftermath of this most recent fall, my thoughts almost reflexively turned to scenarios involving taking the same fall from, oh, say, the top of the main staircase with its almost inevitable catastrophic consequences — the fact is that I have achieved a sort of measured equanimity about my situation. This may be because I've just gotten used to living with these dangers, or it may be because I know I'm doing a great job of undercutting the progression of the disease by walking about five miles everyday, or it may be because I've just gotten tired of worrying about what's going to happen next. Whatever the case, I feel as though I'm almost over the hump of self-pity, which is to say that I've learned to have it as needed and let it slip away when it is not. And as for the unearned redemption piece, what the fuck do you want from me — perfection? I sure as fuck hope not cause it ain't gonna fucking happen.

How'm I doin'? Well, I'd still just as soon you not ask me that question, with all its undertow of pity, should we meet on the street, and I hope you will not take it personally if I keep our conversation short as it's hard to make myself understood owing to the Mumbly in me, but on the whole, I'd have to say that I have no complaints. I'm beating the odds and then some, especially if you ask my dog when we go out for our daily round of walking and talking about midday, and as for the future, I'm just going to let that be where it is right now. When it wants to find me, it knows where to look.