Anne,

This is a very thought provoking thread. What was I doing prior to all this starting?

I had a nice job, which started in 1998 with then Polaroid Graphics Imaging. This was the graphics division of Polaroid Corporation. I was their desktop PC technician and finally their network administrator. I was responsible for all the desktop machines, printers, network health, workstations, servers, Apple Macintoshes, Sun workstations, and probably anything else with a keyboard. I was on call 24/7 365 days per year, even while on vacation. Who took vacations? I hadn't had a real vacation in 10 years. I had worked for myself, or rather the family business prior and never had time to take a vacation. The intervening jobs in between were second shift operations jobs, which put me on call all the time, and the swing shift position, which burned me out was a blast. Anyway, I was making the most money I had ever made in my life, I even bought a house with my brother. I was studying piano and even taking night classes as well as consulting on the side. If I didn't have 26 projects going at a time, I didn't know what I was doing. I had even started a real model railroad so I could operate my fine collection of N-scale trains.

Then it started... In late 2000 I had a weird headache. The top of my head was numb and I felt dizzy. An MRI and CAT scan showed nothing and I was told it was stress and a migraine. In mid 2001 I had pneumonia not once , but twice. This took a physical toll on me and slowed me down. For some reason I could never really get my energy back. I had also developed increased cramps in my legs and stiffness, which I contributed to long distance bike riding, cross country skiing, and very long woodland hikes.

In late 2002 I blacked out unexpectedly while working my my sister's PC. I woke up with a numb right side and uncoordinated hands. A subsequent ultrasound showed normal arteries, was told it was a migraine, but a growth was discovered on my thyroid. The cramps and spasms got worse and my right big toe turned in, which was blamed on my former rebuilt clubbed foot. I was no longer studying piano and I had dropped from my night school classes. I was too tired and exhausted mentally and physcially to go on. My model railroad become difficult to work on. I spent more time picking things up that I dropped, and when I tried to paint or glue something, I had a real mess. One side of the object would come fine, but if I tried to paint elsewhere, the brush would kibbie in my hand and I'd smear everything. I wasn't very coordinated anyway so I attributed it to my clumsy hands. During this time, my piano playing became inconsistent. My hands would lose their coordination, and I would get confused. I thought it was all the things that were going on. There were good days and bad days, but mostly bad with that relentless fatigue. I was sleeping a lot and doing a lot less.

A diagnosis of mixed papillary-folicular thyroid carcinoma in early 2003 sent me over the edge. This was my undoing, and probably my stess factor. I had the surgery immediately much to the amazement to my primary care doctor. He said I could have waited, but I wanted it done. In May 2003, the left side came out. The day I went into Lahey Clinc, and not my local hospital for the surgery, both of my feet turned in. I was in pain during the ride over to the hospital, and could barely walk into the lobby.

After the surgery, I felt better, but still stiff. I would get these nasty cramps in my feet, and my hands would get confused. I was also having difficult times getting out of my chair at work. I also noticed stiffness in my shoulders. In July 2004 at my sister's wedding, I had those cramps in my feet again. I could barely walk out to the lobby area of the reception hall to talk with my cousin. We couldn't talk in the main room because the noise was too much to hear or think. The cramps subsided somewhat, but would come and go. Later on during the same weekend, a tremor showed up in my right hand. That's when I finally got scared enough to call my doctor and the rest of the story begins in early 2005.

I never wanted a diagnosis of anything like PD; I only wanted to feel better. I was tired mentally and physically. I was tired of feeling stiff and sore all the time. What I didn't need was a neurologist to give me an attitude, which I had the first time around. It took another year later to finally get a neurologist to work with me and listen, and this has turned out to be the best thing I've ever done.

John