Not the Judy you met, paula. But Bobby is the one I have journaled about many times before. Here's one entry (and it will probably be in our book, also):

Recently, I received a call from the rehab facility where our Parkinson’s support group meets. The lady gave me the name of a person who “needed to be contacted” and showed an interest in joining our group. I took the
number and forgot about untils I started making plans for our annual picnic. I saw the sticky note on my roster of members and decided to give “Bobby” a call. I am so glad I didn’t pass up this opportunity.

A child answered with a lengthy pause before speaking to my intended party. Bobby’s voice sounded weak and nervous. After a few of the “formalities” of informing him when the group met, membership, and programs; we got to the meat of the conversation. I shared first, “I’m 49 - honestly- and have been
diagnosed since 1994,”. But it was Bobby’s response that left my mouth gaping.

At 27, Bobby was diagnosed; and he was now only 38. He had been through DBS (deep brain stimulation) and was still having difficulty with tremors and dyskinesias. He was also in the midst of a divorce and custody battles.
“Bobby!” I lamented, “You’ve been enduring this battle all alone?” He shared how he had become somewhat of a “recluse” for the past 11 years. For 11 years Bobby had been trying to fight the war of severe tremors plus all the other PD symptoms, was disabled and having financial difficulties, and was now fighting the losing battle of divorce . . . all of this alone! What’s so sad is that Bobby lived within 10 miles of my home.

After swallowing the lump in my throat, I shared some online sites with him for information and support. Then I invited him to our upcoming picnic, and we exchanged e-mails. My heart melted as he told his story - one that needed to be shared immediately after his diagnosis was given . . . not 11 years later.
In our story comparison, I was an elementary principal - in the limelight of the community’s eyes. My symptoms, diagnosis, and battle with Parkinson’s had been followed by many from the onset until my disability retirement. Even then, my network of support was insufficient to prevent the depression that followed.
It has only been the past year that I felt that I had control of the
inevitable monster.

As I hung up the phone and immediately sent a follow-up email, I wondered how many other young onset victims were out there. How many were becoming a “recluse” as Bobby had described himself? How many could or would have benefited emotionally from being able to share their battles of job security, raising children, weathering relationship changes or treatment
options? I shuddered to think. Although I was thankful that I had opened this door of opportunity, I still shed a tear of remorse for not finding it sooner.


Thanks to all who are adding these people to your list of "people to think about often."

Peggy