Brock Carlton's story part 4: Managing transitions

Brock Carlton, a member of the Parkinson Advisory Council, has contributed a series of six stories encapsulating his experience with adjusting to life with Parkinson’s. In this submission, number four of six, Brock shares about learning how to cope with the changes and transitions that Parkinson’s inevitably brings.

Written from the snow-covered slopes of Gatineau Park during a late-winter ski trip, Brock was inspired to share. Whether you’re an avid skier or prefer staying indoors, we want to hear your story! Get in touch by emailing communications@parkinson.ca or commenting below.

Managing transitions

In the book Transitions: Making Sense of Life Changes, the author, William Bridges speaks to three stages in any life transition:
First, an ending – the letting go of what no longer is.
Second, is the neutral zone – the mushy middle of time in-between where we surrender the old ways of doing things and find the new.
And finally, a new beginning – launching into your new reality with understanding and awareness. This is the transition I need to navigate.

Learning how to transition into new beginnings

I am standing near the top of a relatively steep ski slope in Fernie, British Columbia. I have been on this run a few times over the years, but never looked at it as I am seeing it today. I used to dance down with light feet, a light heart, and a smile of satisfaction. Today I cannot even conjure up how to ski down this slope. The speed and coordination of movement, so readily available in the past, are stolen from me by Parkinson’s. It is not within my imagination, let alone my body’s ability to deliver. With 60 years of downhill skiing under my belt, for the very first time, I feel fear. I have no confidence.

I have read that there are two different sources of learning: reflecting on the past, and sensing and actualizing the emerging future possibilities. Parkinson’s takes away the relevance of the past as a reference point when thinking of physical movement. And learning from the emerging future is… well… a challenge when that emerging future is immediately below you – an icy ski slope – with no access to muscle memory to negotiate this rather immediate future.

Letting go

Clearly, standing here I am facing an ending. With Parkinson’s the ending of the old way comes as a shock; a diagnosis – like an aggressive slam dunk, it asserts itself on you immediately. Yet, nothing is different in the immediate aftermath of that diagnosis. The edges of the ending are both precise and fuzzy; at once a shockwave and an evolution. Everyone knows when they were diagnosed, but few can pinpoint when Parkinson’s really took hold within them.

While I contemplate these concepts, I am faced with an immediate issue: To get to that new beginning, my first task is to survive this descent.

The mushy middle

The mushy middle also hurts. It is fraught with anxiety and dissatisfaction. The sense of loss can be overwhelming. So too is the endless shaking, sleep disruption, stiffness, momentary freezing of gait, loss of balance, and the fear of falling.

Having survived the steep descent in Fernie, I am now at a backcountry ski lodge in British Columbia (I seem to not give in to endings easily). It is deep in the mountains. I know what I’m getting into. I have enjoyed skiing the deep powder on the glaciers and in the trees in years past. I also know that thanks to Parkinson’s, I am facing new challenges that reach deeper into myself than the challenge of the powder. New challenges that make me question whether I really do know what I am getting into.

Facing the rather esoteric issue of an end to skiing is one thing.  Not being able to navigate a knife and fork effortlessly and silently is altogether different. Table conversations become disjointed as everyone tries to ignore my struggle to cut meat, while my knife rattles against the side of the plate. I feel like I am in a tunnel, convinced that everyone is trying not to show that they notice my uncoordinated eating style. This ‘inbetweeness’ is about not giving up on the search for new ways to manage utensils, negotiate sleep and accept the shaking. Finding a new way is necessary, inevitable, and unavoidable.

Part of navigating the mushy middle is finding my new reality by testing the old. On the first ski of the week, we climbed about 700 meters to set up our descent on a glacial moraine buried under two meters of snow. In descending I fall three times… I feel the ending.

New beginnings

Most of the rest of the week I am in snowshoes, in the valley flats skirting the lower reaches of the moraines and treed slopes. I feel the mushy middle dissolving into a new beginning. The potential for frustration and disappointment is being overtaken by gratitude. Gratitude that I had these wonderful experiences, and gratitude that I can share in the joy of others who are now experiencing what I knew and know. I am ready to move on.

In Brock’s next submission he opens up about feeling victimized by Parkinson’s but also how to overcome the feelings of victimhood. Follow us on Facebook and Twitter for updates on when the next story is available.

Want to read Brock’s other contributions? Use the links below:

Part one: The diagnosis

Part two: Sharing the news

Part three: Parkinson’s takes time

Part four: Managing transitions

Part five: Collateral damage