By Grant Thompson

1: archaic : a prolonged discourse
2: a bitter and abusive speech or writing
3: ironic or satirical criticism

“Don't worry about the future ….. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.” ~Unknown

An idle Tuesday, 3:30pm . . .

On a sunny spring day in April that year I made my way to an appointment with my family physician. Over the previous fall and winter I had experienced a minor pain in my wrist accompanied by stiffness of my fingers after typing or using the mouse for extended periods on the computers at work.

After the standard checks on heart, breathing and blood pressure, he focused on my right wrist and elbow. He twisted and flexed the joints and kept saying, “relax your arm”. The conclusion: there was a bit of “excess tension” in my arm. I should go to see a neurologist for further tests.

A week later I was sitting in another doctor’s office patiently waiting my turn. My name was called and I was ushered in. After 10 minutes of touching my index finger to various parts of my face with eyes closed and touching my index finger to his finger while he kept moving it around, the examination was complete.

Now seated across an acre of desk from him I heard the verdict, or rather the diagnosis. Parkinson’s. I was given a prescription for amantadine and a single sheet folded pamphlet on Parkinson’s and told, “See you in six months”.

The second opinion was the same.

I had just had my 37th birthday. Now I was reading about a progressive, debilitating disease that would be with me the rest of my life. It doesn’t normally strike until your sixties or later the pamphlet said. The pamphlet said I should wear shoes with a flat solid sole and try to get up and outside if only for a little while each day. Right.

The pamphlet showed a family rallying to support octogenarian grandparents. It bore as much relation to my life as . . . . it bore no relation to my life.

Try to get outside if only for a little while each day. Right.

I had two children under 10 years old. I had scouts and guides to get kids to. I had to help build Cub cars. I coached my son’s soccer team. I was a Customer Service Account Manager with a staff of 24 people across the country during an industry boom.

Try to get outside if only for a little while each day. Right.

For the next month I was examined, poked, prodded, drained of blood vial by vial ( I think there were upwards of 30 vials sized tiny to alarmingly big). Then urine samples, some straight and then some encased in foil to avoid the light and to crown it all, a CAT scan “with enhancement”. All this was in an effort to determine if my problem was something other than Parkinson’s. I wasn’t sure which alternative to cheer for.

By way of introduction

My name is Grant. I am a husband of 25 years and counting, father of 20 years.

I have an Engineering degree from the University of Waterloo and an MBA from York University.

I was a 20 year employee of a large corporation until it underwent several huge downsizings.

I am an entrepreneur by necessity. That means I’m unemployed. I am trying to grow a business which digitally restores pictures, and using pictures, old and new, I create memory movies for celebration, tribute or documenting family histories.

I am still looking for a full-time job.

I haven’t found anyone who will take a chance on me yet.

I am a person with Parkinsons.

What is it like?

I can’t relax. Even on a good day or good hour I can’t flop down on the couch and sprawl. My head won’t rest on the pillow; I have to will it so.

There are times I have to think about the steps I have to go through to accomplish even a simple task like driving a nail or flipping a pancake. Shoelaces can stymie me. Tying a Windsor or Four-in-Hand knot in my tie has to be done the night before.

When in need of medication all the muscles in my body feel like they are humming like high tension electrical lines. When the meds take hold it is like an upwelling of relief from my core to my extremities.

I am never entirely sure that the person behind the counter has understood what I just said until I’m given a happy meal which is WRONG; asked to repeat what I just said; which is fine, or wait until their jaw goes slack and they glaze over into that “waiting for further instructions” posture. I will haul out a fistful of change to pay for something but let the cashier pick out the required coins.

Dyskinetic bouts sometimes scare people. More often they annoy people, like the people behind me in a movie theatre. They also make my back and neck muscles really sore. It gets worse when I’m nervous.

I sometimes freeze. I lose my balance occasionally although I haven’t yet fallen. I sometimes shuffle instead of walk. When I can’t walk without shuffling, I get out my hiking staff and use its rhythmic swinging motion to provide a tempo which enables me to walk; or I can run. Running is easy. I’ve always hated running.

Random thoughts…

I am not considered disabled by the Ministries of such things, but it’s difficult to get through a job interview without eyebrows being raised, or glances between interviewers which say, “Hello, what have we got here?” I’m a little nervous at interviews. I was once asked if I had been drinking. I said no and tried to explain. My brain was saying, “Tell him you are on drugs and try to explain that.” The interview was too formal; not a time to try humour. But I have to work. Mortgage, College/University fees, weddings and who knows what.

I just turned 50 years old. Inside I feel 18 like any 50 year-old, I like to joke and have fun but Parkinson’s masks it and I appear stone faced, dour and often speak as though I have a mouthful of marbles. Expression takes effort. Even then, the effort might result in a grimace instead of a smile. A good belly laugh still works.

I take up to 37 pills a day. That’s up from approximately NONE 13 years ago. Back then I had to crunch a single aspirin to get it down. Now 7 in one gulp is the norm.

I have been diagnosed and treated for Parkinson’s for thirteen years.

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these.” ~George Washington Carver

This is me…

I make hiking staffs as a hobby. Hand-carved, brass and steel tipped, with grips of rope or leather cord tied in intricate knotwork.

I have learned Tai Chi.

I go camping in bear country, swim in Georgian Bay, Stargaze.

I fly high performance, 2 or 4 line stunt kites.

I play the pennywhistle. My wife thinks the word PLAY is somewhat generous. I am going to learn to play the Irish flute anyway.

I still do all I ever could, it’s just a matter of degree and timing. When I feel good I have to do something. Anything. If not, an opportunity to be “normal” has been wasted.

I have two beautiful children, a supportive family and a large circle of good friends.

I have an appreciation and newly discovered compassion for those in similar straits.

In the midst of those that don’t know about Parkinson’s, who point or avoid; I have found gems who care without knowing you, who act on your behalf without being asked, who treat you as a dear friend would; and help you continue safely on your way.

Parkinson’s not withstanding and all else in its proper perspective I’m doing fine.


►Back to Story Corner