It's a little bit bunny
Where Emma ponders stress
Thank you for all your feedback about grief from last week. I have learned so much about how you felt and deal with the loss of loved ones and of your pre-diagnosis life. I’m sure I will write more on this at a later date.
‘Carrot!’ I proclaim. Met by hysterical laughter - my family collectively losing it as my parky brain spits out nonsense. Thanks, guys.
The fallout from the funeral has been a display of Parkinson’s at its wildest. Mine is especially active after a period of stress and general busyness. Behaving in surreal ways. Mostly funny for me and my immediate family, and if not funny, everyone is used to the excesses. Not so easy for other people.
It started at the funeral. Standing beside my sister-in-law I started ‘the jog’. Beginning in my right hand the tremor travels all through my body until I am doing a pretty decent impression of an old diesel engine, my whole body juddering and shuddering.
My kind and loving sister-in-law gripped my hand and passed me tissues mistakenly believing I was sobbing uncontrollably. I think that was a reasonable assumption, under the circumstances. But it does bring to light something which I have observed before.
People will look for any reason other than the truth to cope with my Parkinson’s symptoms.
I don’t blame them - I want it to be something else too! It is especially hard when people don’t see the way your disease affects you daily or in extreme moments. When I meet these people normally we are in controlled, usually celebratory events where Mr P is on his best behaviour. I don’t know if I need people to really understand what’s happening. Perhaps it is better if they don’t? But if we keep pretending to the outside that these uncomfortable truths are not Parkinson’s then we risk denying ourselves support.
Since the stress of the past fortnight, there have been some daft moments. My language usage has been a good marker of the impact of stress. Random words, malapropisms and creative word blending and sentence structure. Fun times…for a writer. My gait, always a little wibbly, has developed into full Jack Sparrow and my organisational blips have put me writing this right up to the publishing deadline. I’m fatigued but also jittery, like having had too much caffeine after late-night partying. And my jumper is on inside out for the 10th time this week.
The difficulty is whilst this immediate stress will pass, there is a long term implication. Every time I experience extreme stress, I feel I recover less well. It’s like it lets a little more of Mr P through the door.
Language and thought are essential to my continued wellbeing, success and life. Funny as it is to yell unsolicited words around the room, it is also frightening. What synapse has misfired and lost the thought, meaning or intention of what I was trying to express? I worry that I will lose my creative and intellectual capacity as I waste time deciphering my mushy brain.
P.S. Thank you for the shares, recommendations and Twitter mentions! I do like making new friends 🤗