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11-12-2007, 12:28 AM | #1 | ||
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Junior Member
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Parkies Dress Code
Feeling quite mellow for love of the world Showing my colours with banner unfurled Lonely and rigid with Bradys all day I’m shuffling around with nothing to say My stick is from Stones of Scotland I hear No sword in it scabbard or foil may you fear I point at the T V and fiddle the knobs This cane changes channel, its favourite job. Some terrible pains are caused by PD My arms are of iron no muscle to see My head is of lead and heavy to raise My knees start to crumble and easy to graze I shake every morning, all day and all night The tremors of P D are there to highlight What wonderful movement to people we show The twists and the turns like dancers we flow. awkward when dressing especially shirts You put in one arm and the other one hurts the buttons are tiny, won’t fit in the slot when you have finished you’re sweaty and hot you pull up your trousers or sometimes you don’t pull says your brain but your hands say they won’t when pulling on socks its tricky extreme you get to the point say sod it and scream when making a knot with your favourite tie it gets so frustrating its near making you cry you might have a meeting with some bosses today you might wear some cufflinks or throw them away The last to go on are shoes you must lace The shoehorn is mustard it saves you some grace The hardest to come is lacing up shoes It’s better with slip ons the next pair you choose Listerine |
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11-12-2007, 07:15 AM | #2 | |||
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In Remembrance
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Oh, Just Let me Hate Him!
© by tenalouise I hate that Mr. Parkinson's that univited one, he followed me in hot pursuit until the deed was done. No respecter of person's is he Nor kind and gentle fella I think he's just a coward I 'll rename him - Mr. Yellah Hey! Mr. Yellah, leave me alone! I don't like you, cuz you stink! You have made me mad and very sad You've pushed me to the brink! So now you know my enemy To whom I don't belong, Glad the day , I'll hear them say The cure has come along. and when my fight has ended I'll tell that PD punk Those brilliant ones that did you in Are smarter than you thunk!
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with much love, lou_lou . . by . , on Flickr pd documentary - part 2 and 3 . . Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak and the wrong. Sometime in your life you will have been all of these. |
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11-12-2007, 08:16 AM | #3 | |||
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Thank you Listerine, for a laugh and a surge of fellow feeling of frustration. The lilt fits so well. Clever clever.
And thank you Tena, your poem puts me in a proper fighting mood. This is 'seen from outside'. I’ve seen them in town Walking slowly around A couple of blocks Then she sits on the rocks by the side of the street and rests her feet. Something is wrong He must be very strong Not to mind people’s stare When she wobbles out there With her lopsided walk He must know people talk. Sometimes she seems lame She’s not always the same. Some say it’s a stroke Or a bone that she broke Others say that it’s drink That’s what I tend to think. Actually, after 10 years of lopsided walking I really don't mind what people think when I wobble out there. But people will stare. birte Last edited by BEMM; 11-12-2007 at 12:57 PM. |
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"Thanks for this!" says: | lou_lou (06-28-2010) |
11-12-2007, 11:05 AM | #4 | ||
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Junior Member
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Thinking of my husband
He was always the one you noticed Standing oh so tall and straight. It took two steps to match his one, So purposeful was his gait. Teaching English was his profession, And coaching was his joy. Shakespeare, his favorite author, A football, his favorite toy. Then came that unwanted visitor Who knocked on his door one day. Parkinsons took a lease on his life, Determined forever to stay. Though his body now is compromised, His will to survive is great. His mind will refuse to surrender What "they" say is inevitable fate. And as long as he has his family and friends, And faith in his fellow man He'll evict that unwanted visitor, He will, if anyone can.
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Jo Ann |
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"Thanks for this!" says: | lou_lou (06-28-2010) |
11-12-2007, 12:05 PM | #5 | |||
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In Remembrance
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The Lavender Gown -
or some refer to it as To Dance With the Stars The lavender gown That I once wore Antiqued and aging In an old dresser drawer A purse made of pearls With a handle of gold Tarnished, miscolored Forgotten and old O joy that I could run Back to the day And put on my dress To dance night away Or awaken to find I'd had a nightmare And that I was healthy~ And had not a care But in this reality I will stay Praying for health Day after day - Looking for answers? I haven't a clue One day at a time Is the best I can do The cure is awaiting In some brilliant mind Who studies with fervor For the answers to find Until then I shall escape In my lavender dress To dance with the stars And run from the stress -------------- Author's Notes -------------- Sometimes dwelling on illness leads to depression, and in my case this is so true,so I escape from the thoughts that bombard me daily. I do have parkinson's disease,but it does not have me!!!! this was online at MGH in 1999... Massachusetts General Hospital aka/ Harvard online ___________________
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with much love, lou_lou . . by . , on Flickr pd documentary - part 2 and 3 . . Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak and the wrong. Sometime in your life you will have been all of these. |
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11-12-2007, 10:18 PM | #6 | |||
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Can I Borrow Your Legs?
Can I borrow your legs for one day? I no longer have any to claim. My own have deserted me The legs you see beneath me are not mine anymore Can I use your legs for one day? I will give you anything you need All of my worldly possessions Will be yours forever If I can use your legs for one day. Can I try on your legs for an hour? So I can experience what you feel As they glide freely when you run Or fill your heart when you dance Or show to the world your walk. Can I feel your legs for one hour? I just want to know they're there Without the stiffness Without the pain Without the frustrations. Can I cherish your legs for a minute? I only want to relish in The feeling of a body part That works with me not against me. I promise to take care of them I know how special they really are. Can you help me remember That I am independent That I am a person That I am still here I need only to be reminded Please Can I borrow your legs? ©Copyright 2004 Laura J Dean
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I have a post-encephalitic neurological disorder, but it does NOT have me! |
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11-12-2007, 10:51 PM | #7 | ||
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Senior Member
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to all and thanks to all, just not enough words to express, Many hugs
and blessings to all dear one's Sue PN |
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11-12-2007, 10:53 PM | #8 | |||
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In Remembrance
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While The Pendulum Swung
I have lost it, -and that's a fact where it went I'll never know while peeking under a large divan I searched for it high and low like a curious cat I pounced upon a huge bag stuffed full of junk I ransacked drawers packed full in my mothers red cedar lined trunk what was the day, month or year when was it, where could it be who took it, what time was it it was all just a mystery to me it had escaped and oblivious was I what happened to youths graceful grin while the pendulum swung on the old hallclock and age and senility set in ~ Christena Copyright ©2004 Christena
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with much love, lou_lou . . by . , on Flickr pd documentary - part 2 and 3 . . Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant with the weak and the wrong. Sometime in your life you will have been all of these. |
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11-12-2007, 11:07 PM | #9 | |||
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Member
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Forgotten Melody
A vision of twilights shadow meanders leisurly across the walls of my home. It forges near my forsaken piano to challenge my denial of its existance. My heart begins to bleed as reality's blanket threatens to mute the music of my soul. In the silenced room, I gaze upon the majestic instrument. Spider webs now cover keys once used to vocalize emotions that could not be else told. I can feel my life within its sounding board. Emotional strokes of my fingertips echo within the dark wood. Sitting upon the vacated bench, the familiar creak of weakened legs welcome my return. My fingers caress the ivories but do not press down on them. The knowledge of sad frustrations has been hidden behind a wall stronger than dreams of longing. Looking down, I notice how young my hands look. Too young to be holding the pain of Parkinsons Disease. The keys that lie beneath them do not understand and are waiting for my touch. I bow my head and pray. Inside of my trapped frame, God’s gentle voice begins to sing the melodies I used to play. Leaning into their healing crescendos, my motionless hands are forgiven. My dignity swoons and gives thanks while my Lord fills my heart with the music He has given me. ©Laura Jeanne Dean
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I have a post-encephalitic neurological disorder, but it does NOT have me! |
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11-13-2007, 07:46 AM | #10 | ||
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I hope this thread will never end.
It is a testimony to the unbeatable human spirit ... we will fight to the end .. Thank you heroic soles who transform your pain into infinite beauty. Thank you for being an inspiration to all of us imark Last edited by imark3000; 11-13-2007 at 07:48 AM. Reason: spelling correction |
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"Thanks for this!" says: | lou_lou (05-13-2008) |
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