Friday, March 13, 2015

Friday the 13th, Living with Parkinson's

I love Friday the 13th. It pops up and colors an otherwise ordinary day. I love all the many little rituals that populate my world. In totality, they make my life. Absurd yes, random superstitions, plastered like bumper stickers on a prevailing normalcy.

Yet, I love these funny foolishnesses, lined in a row to make a day.

When I stumble out of the dream that occupies my mind and body, my delicious dance deep in delusion, I occasionally spend time on the plane of self-awareness. I note my flickering foibles. The silliness that is existence.

Recently, in a stew of prescribed medications and neurological symptoms, cooked in the cantankerous rock climb of disturbing sleep and drowsy daybreaks, I rise at dawn drenched in anxiety.

Mind you, I have no real fears. I will die, after an undisclosed number of years collecting nasty physical symptoms, yet that is no news to any of us. I live in a land of high security, surrounded by loving friends and friendly lovers. I have always lived a charmed life. Charmed in the jewelled luxury of boom time opulence, contrasted with enough tragedy to keep the drama plausible.

There must be an application for these jitters. Someway this relentless shaking, stiffening muscle torment, and prevailing paranoia can be wrestled down with reflective wisdom. Some trick of the mind, persuading me to will away whatever affronts the paradise of feeling fine.

I want to answer "How are you?" with a charming grin of self-assured "Wonderful!" and not the grim crotchety cackle of an old grey-haired codger. Though good fodder for humor, the grumbling of grey-beards gets old fast. Youth expects us to have skin that glistens and reassuring eyes twinkling in wizened wrinkles of insight.

Trouble is, for me, Facebook-posted truisms do not cure daily dawning in discontent. Something more is needed in the mix. So, I persevere, in a prickly convalescence, flirting with any delicious fish that takes my bait. I am focused on celebrating affection, worshiping the generous spirit of amour and her cousin love. I love Friday the 13th in the hope that bad luck is better than no luck at all.

I clamour for a fountain of courage and the energy to see it through. To make each day a romantic Latin love song. "I am wonderful" said in all sincerity, in a voice that echoes through the canyon bouncing back in a voluminous affirmation of good. Happy Friday the 13th!