My Life and Parkinson’s By Neil A. Silvert

 When Nancy asked me to write this week’s Parkinson’s entry, I eagerly said, “Yes.” Now that I’m finally sitting with my computer to get started, I’m feeling unsure of my ability to make it interesting to you, the reader. 

Nancy gives so much in her regular column! She tells about innovative therapies she tries, and, or hears about. It’s fascinating to read about her pursuits. Some are her own creation (she is an artist after all), and some are offered by professionals. I know I’m not the only reader with Parkinson’s who appreciates what she shares. It’s informative because she tries some of the latest treatments. It’s inspiring because she courageously divulges her humanness. To use a cliche’, she “pours her heart out” on the page. I get that she’s afraid, but she refuses to roll over. On the contrary, she leads by example. I will humbly continue typing because I promised Nancy I would and could do it. I think I can do it by sharing my personal experience dealing with this neurological disease. 

I take the medication Carbidopa/Levadopa; see my neurologist every few months; I regularly participate in Jill’s amazing, weekly Dancing with Parkinson’s class. That’s the extent of what I do that is taught by specialists. At the Parkinson’s class discussion I listen intently to my friends who are experiencing symptoms both from the condition and from various meds and treatments they are doing. When I first met my neurologist I was skeptical. He was physically out of shape and apparently quite stressed. My devoted and skilled wife (she’s a hospice and palliative care physician) accompanied me. She didn’t agree with my original assessment. I didn’t like when he pushed me to check my balance. My male ego thing… The office at that time was understaffed, and he complained and looked disgusted. I thought, “I’ve got a loser for a doctor. I don’t care that he’s a 1 movement specialist.” Before that I’d rarely used anything related to conventional medicine. My tremor in my right arm was getting worse, and the dosage of medicine that the doctor prescribed alleviated that enough so that I could write, type and eat better. That, along with listening to my more experienced friends with Parkinson’s stories made me realize that maybe the medical community wasn’t so bad. A big turnaround was when I heard Lee rave over my doctor. She told me that he said he had to get home to his autistic child to relieve his wife. That was it! As a retired special education teacher, I learned to respect the parents of special needs children. I went to my next appointment with an open mind, and sure enough, now I totally appreciate my doctor who answers every question and thoroughly explains every one of his suggestions. I’m determined to practice what lifestyle my gut tells me works best to keep me healthy. Following the doctor’s suggestions won’t interfere with that- I’m pretty determined. It comes genetically: my late dad played competitive softball till he was almost eight-nine; my ninety-eight and a half year old mom lives independently except for a daily four hour visit from a home health aide; my only sibling, a younger sister who is seventy, plays competitive tennis and pickle ball. I often surrender to my disease induced exhaustion late day, and of course those darn tremors. Instrumental to my well being is this formula: exercise daily vigorously as I’ve always done (but don’t overdo it and injure myself), meditate (even if some days it’s just for a couple of minutes) daily and work on being mindful of the fact that all I have is RIGHT NOW, practice gratitude (my Parkinson’s friend Tom said that’s his major focus), give love and let it come into me, spend lots of time with those I love (foremost my wife, and that includes my dog), be out in nature as much as possible, practice generosity as if it’s an opportunity, work hard at whatever I do (just the way my dad never stopped hustling 2 down those base-paths), and last of all, do what my heart tells me is right. 

So I’m going to finish by explaining some specific things that I have experienced and things I have done that seem to be working. I was resenting an old friend for not initiating communication, and then he texted me to say he’d had a heart attack. I recognized my antagonism and switched to empathy and love. I’m much happier, and I’m grateful that he’s recovering and that I still have my friend.

 I pulled a muscle in my leg. This has limited my mobility and tends to make me angry and depressed. I’m practicing having compassion for myself and accepting the fact that I won’t be able to run the bases like my dad did. 

I don’t listen to any media that repetitively sensationalizes for their own greedy reasons. Instead I’ve been listening to the late, great pianist Oscar Peterson along with limited news from sources which receive no corporate funding and which I trust.

 I devote a lot of time and energy to be the best dog trainer I can be. I love what I do because it gives me back so much. I do private lessons that are lots of fun, and I make a little money at it. As a retired special education teacher, it’s pretty similar to what I used to do. I start every day, no matter the weather, running my dog in the woods and exercising my body and voice (that’s the thing I tend to worry about with my condition- many of us die by choking due to weakened throat muscles). I do shadow boxing with the trees and vigorous hiking, and then I stretch. I eagerly pick and eat mulberries, black raspberries, blackberries- whatever is ripe and wild. The birds serenade me. 

I realize I’m privileged to have all I have, and this Parkinson’s is just something I have to accept as part of the package in my wonderful life.