Help Me Breathe

Have you missed me? I've missed you!

We've been without internet service for 10 days, courtesy of Comcast (this is my blog, so I can say that, right?!) They can re-brand with Xfinity all they want, but they're still plain old Comcast-With-The-Bad-Service in my book! I do give them props, however, for reimbursing us without issue for the lost time.

Anyway, I'm back, and I don't even know where to start. Some days, like today, it feels like the world is crashing in on me and I can't breathe. When I wake up in the morning, I can't bear the thought of what the day will hold. When I get to work, I literally feel short of breath from all the stress. When I get home, my legs don't want to work and they feel like jelly. When I go to bed, I desperately hope it will be a good night; that nothing will hurt, no nightmares will haunt me, I won't toss and turn all night.

My particular version of Parkinson's seems to run in cycles:  I'll be in a decline for a while, then I level out and might even see a little improvement, then decline again, etc. I'm in a spiral right now, and new or worsening symptoms are surfacing almost daily. In the past when this happened, it meant that I needed an increase in my medication; I would call the doctor, take the medicine, and fix the problem. If you've kept track of my struggles so far, however, you know that I cannot have any more medication increases now because my body doesn't like any of the appropriate medicines for my stage of the disease.

So, can I just unload for a minute? If you don't want to trudge through this with me, I understand, so here's fair warning:  my attitude might get worse before it gets better, but I do promise to end on some kind of a happy note!

I've noticed my legs starting to shake without provocation, which is very uncomfortable, not to speak of embarrassing. Sometimes, they shake even when I'm standing still doing dishes. My handwriting has become so bad at times that I truly cannot even read it myself. I live in a permanent state of brain fog, struggling to find words just at the moment when it's most important for me to be professional. When I'm walking across the credit union, I have to concentrate so hard on trying to walk normally that I am incapable of walking and talking at the same time. All I can think of is, "Heel, toe, heel, toe... who's watching and noticing? Heel, toe, heel, toe. Don't let my shoes slap against the floor. Lord, am I doing this right? Help me get this right." I've stopped trying to hide the tremor in my left hand; can't help it, can't stop it, can't be bothered trying any more. And my balance is worse. I don't fall, but sometimes I go careening across the kitchen floor for no good reason at all. When I wake up in the morning, my left hand sometimes tremors so violently that I have to grab it with my other hand to calm it. I'm increasingly more hesitant to walk through small spaces or step over or across anything because I don't trust my balance to be good enough to maneuver the obstacle in  my way.

The merry-go-round won't stop and I can't breathe.

Remember the rose named Hope? The one outside my bedroom window? It perfectly symbolizes how I feel:  It grows a little and starts to get a bud on it. It gets green and full of life. It starts to fill out with beautiful full leaves. It starts to look like a rose named Hope.

Then a stupid bunny eats all its leaves and buds.

This has happened over and over throughout this whole growing season. This is the worst year for bunnies that I have ever seen.

And this is the worst season of Parkinson's I have seen so far, and I don't know what to do about it, so pray for me, okay? I'm doing all the right things: exercising, eating right, resting...but the bunnies are still eating all the blooms and I don't know how to stop them.

It's time to end, and I promised to end on a happy note, so here's what I've got:

1)  A darling husband, who cleans up dinner, babies me, helps me with everything, keeps me on track with my diet, encourages me, and simply treasures me, even though I don't know why.
2)  Two wonderful health care providers, Yolanda and Joshua, my lymphadema drainage specialists who give me reason to dare to hope. They genuinely care about their patients, and are innately gifted at what they do. I get a hug when I come and when I leave, and sometimes I need that physical connection and affirmation.
3)  A God who is always good and always in control, and a wonderful church family, though I think I need to reconnect with both.
4)  A family who cares about me and prays for me every day.
5)  A work family who seems to care about helping me take care of myself, and who seem willing to work with me on my hours.
6)  A sweet cousin, Cindy, and her husband and church family. I know they pray for me every day, and encourage me regularly.
7)  My rose is still alive. It might get eaten off every time it grows, but it's still alive There's still Hope.

There has to be.

Right?