It gets to the point when you've had enough of this shisse. Body banged and bruised from falling all the time (trying to live your life alone), and one out of three days out of bed.
That alone is the end stage. Loss, loss, loss. Career, gone; friends, gone; home and family, gone. sick from meds, meds and more meds, and dogged by pain, chronic and severe.
So if you can still feel joy once or twice a week for an hour or two, your quality of life is just about shot. The only reason you go on is for the loved ones who have abandoned you. That and good music. However one increasingly feels like having an accident, as the decades roll on.
PD is a horrible disease, you turn to stone.