![]() ![]() PD is like the persistent and cutting jab of a boxer, manageable if I’m willing to do a little feinting and weaving. ![]() I’ve long realized that control is out of the question instead, I’ve settled for an understanding that requires adaptability and resilience. Slithering forward on my belly toward the wall-mounted phone, I am a one-armed commando crawling under the table, across the floor, and through a thicket of chair legs, dragging a sandbag of a left arm that remains unresponsive and unavailable.Īfter thirty years of Parkinson’s, I have established a sort of détente with the disease. As my shock subsides, it’s clear that I need help. ![]() What the hell just happened? I rise up on my right elbow, expecting to shift my weight to the left and push up onto my feet. I twist my head to save my face from collision with the kitchen tile. ![]()
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