Generally people don't want to hang around anyone chronically ill, and I can't say I blame them. I do understand, for someone in a poor state of health has limitations when it comes to socializing, which admittedly causes difficulty in maintaining friendships. Once diagnosed with a degenerative disease, life is never quite the same again.
Are you familiar with the 'missing sock' syndrome, which continues to be baffle me? I'm far from alone experiencing this strange phenomena, as it probably occurs in most households around the world. For those of you who haven't a clue what I'm talking about and are puzzled, shaking your heads; let me explain.
It had never occurred to me that I could affect my brain through food or drink until I suffered really serious brain fog, a term that has been used rather loosely to define that muddled feeling, which causes us to act out of character, sometimes rather zanily, forgetting little things (the keys) and sometimes big things (where the car is parked).
The purpose of this undercover activity is not to improve the health and welfare of laboratory animals but to send exaggerated shock messages to the public through national news media implying that scientists cannot be trusted with the care of animals with the ultimate aim of ending all research using animals.
Most of us living with Parkinson's disease are on a cocktail of pills we ritually take each day. We can try to help maintain the dopamine levels to some degree by eating the right foods. A well balanced diet alone cannot of course replace Parkinson's medications, but ensures they work at an optimal level.
Most people don't think twice about having pension schemes, life insurance, money tucked away in a savings plan for a rainy day, as this is considered being smart and planning ahead. So why is there a psychological block and what is the problem in tackling one's long-term living conditions in the same manner?
Growing up with Gaucher disease, I wasn't allowed to participate in sports at school and often felt left out, but knew my bones were weak and fragile. I frequently had bouts of unexplained chronic bone pain, so didn't need much convincing to steer clear of the sports hall and the highly spirited netball team.
The on-line Parkinson's community is a great way of connecting through the Internet with others in the same boat. I was truly touched by a new contact I made with a fellow Parkinson's sufferer. My article this week is about an ordinary Joe, just like you and me, except his name is Kendall Lay and he is far from ordinary.
I am typing this article in bed, on my laptop which has been precariously propped up, barely able to see the keys, I am determined to finish this piece. You may be wondering what on earth I've been up to. Sorry to disappoint you, but it doesn't take much to injure myself, and I wish I had an exciting fascinating tale to relate, but the truth of the matter is sadly quite pathetic.
I would like to dedicate this article to a good friend who is battling Parkinson's and will hopefully be undergoing surgery soon. May you have a speedy recovery, resulting in an improved quality of life. This article is for you - one of the many unknown heroes, whose private story goes unsung but who inspires me with your bravery, insightful words of wisdom, a great sense of humour and wit.
I have been walking badly for so long, I thought Parkinson's along with Gaucher disease had taken its toll and my mobility would never improve. A couple of weeks ago, a lady wrote to me (a fellow Parkinson sufferer who's been reading my blog) telling me she goes barefoot in the house and how it's improved her walking
I've been asked on occasion "How do you get Parkinson's?" Believe me, I wish I knew the answer to that million dollar question. I'm sure I wasn't the only child who was told "never sit on a public toilet seat" for fear of catching something nasty, the advice of which I took most earnestly when young.
Before Internet, e-mails, mobile phones, the technology we enjoy today, and now take for granted, it was far harder to find the latest information, meet with others in the same situation and impossible to correspond with fellow sufferers half way round the world. If there was a support group located near to one's home, then it was a stroke of luck.