Kindly readers have requested a closer look at what it is like to Live Happily With Parkinson’s. I suggest we all keep a diary. Here is mine:

What I did today so far:

8 a.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
9 a.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
10 a.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
11 a.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
12 noon swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
1 p.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
2 p.m. swallowed pills, sat in chair, stared at the wall
2:11 p.m. Fell off chair.

1 a.m. - swallowed pills, sat in bed, stared at TV
3 a.m. - swallowed pills, sat in bed, stared at TV
5 a.m. - swallowed pills, headed for bathroom, bounced off two walls and fell over the dog
7 a.m. - swallowed pills, went downstairs to let dog out, fell over laundry basket
9 a.m. - swallowed pills, cursed the dog and the laundry
9:30 a.m. - read Bob's post and got my first smile going for the day. Thanks Bob!!! One necessity for a PWP is a sense of humor. I have to laugh every time I stagger up my front walk cause I know that the new neighbor doesn't know I am a PWP and is really sure that I am a total drunk.

My neighbors think something is wrong if they don't see me stagger.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMSWAUAKJn0

Well, hmmmmmmmm, Bob. Are you expecting this wall to do or become something spectacular? If you aren't, may I suggest that you shift gears, so to speak , and take on a mode of casual observation, or you could paint a pair of eyes on the wall so it can at least stare back. That way, if anyone asks what you are doing you can say that you have entered into a staring contest.

On the other hand., perhaps you should consider keeping a diary of the wall's activity, such as, how it has been a faithful member of your house's support system for many years without complaining once, while it, unselfishly, provided a corner for a local spider to build her web where she engaged in food chain activity. Oh, does your wall have a name or gender? Is your wall French, English, German, or American?

Now, Bob, I could go on and on and on, but I am afraid I am already bordering on insanity. Please do NOT follow my suggestion here.

Seriously, Bob, what meds are you taking, and can you think of anything that might be hindering them from working?

michael

[QUOTE=michael7733;
Seriously, Bob, what meds are you taking, and can you think of anything that might be hindering them from working?
michael[/QUOTE]

Oh Michael, thank you for the concern. I did not mean to alarm anyone.
I do not know what language this wall is speaking. It understands my Inuktitut, but always responds in what sounds to me like a dialect of Cree - so it is one of things like Spanish and Catalan, where you understand half the words at slow speed.

It is a wall that knows me well. There are those who say it is the Great Wall, constructed by my slaves to keep the enemy out; there are others who say it appears to be a very ancient wall that I seem to have built for myself, out of pieces of the ancient Wailing Wall, to which people reply that I am just like Abraham Lincoln: born in a log cabin he built with his own hands.
And that is where some of the debate is taking place - did i do this to myself? Am I really that stupid? Did I actually take the time and effort to construct a small prison for myself, a prison just big enough for me as long as I am not standing up? Am I really that self-destructive, giving the finger every time the Hell's Angels go by? Believing people who say they have come to help and they gain your confidence and then they fold your parachute wrong so you drop like a stone? Am i stupid enough to have allowed myself to be treated with such contempt and such disdain? Can i still do the foregiveness thing? Nowhere near yet, after a year. This is the first time in my life i have felt bitter. It is a terrible, hopeless feeling. And I put myself in harm's way, that stupidly, on my knees, asking for the pain to stop, and I went down and got kicked in the teeth but said i had walked into a door?

Apparently so, according to independent witnesses whose testimony is valued in court, given their position in society; it is always prudent to have a spastic as your servant, because what kind of a judicial system would it be if the judge believes a brain-damaged, stress -frozen cognition disturbed former real estate agent when the opposing side is represented by fine, upright, upstanding pillars of the community who are all very civic dutied and they just don't want no trubbles in these parts, you unnerstand boy? Now you listen up real good when we tells you what is required of you by our graveyard committee. First: die. Second - don't tell anybody - it keeps the tourists away when cripples wander around like Zombies and everybody is trying to guess when they are going to die. They used to be institutions to keep these people until someone comes and gets them. Now they just wander off alone and pee in Mrs. Jones' flower garden. They got no respect for decent folks.

It's clinical depression; had it before; will drive it out again; mostly out now because i can speak again now . But this one hurt and went on longer than I
thought I could endure, this has been going on for about a year; but it is not surprising; it is a not-excessive reaction to being dragged over hot coals and thrown unconscious into the ditch, with people selling tickets to see whether you now get fed to the lions or sold as a slave to your only enemy. It is a hard choice that are going to put to a vote; most of the conservatives are calling for the lion to rip me to shreds immediately, whereas the liberals are back to their old thing of helping visible minorities get steady positions as galley slaves.
And I would have never met all these people if it had not been for having an incurable disease that some famous people also have, so in my area I am the only mascot available for their parades and fund-raisers and it got tiring, being the community's only example of everything they hold in contempt - sort of the one-size=fits=all boogeyman of their darkest fears, lurking in the swamp. Yes, such is my mental power, entire communities plunge into bedlam in fear that I must be up to no good if I as much as cross the free-fire zone where the paint-ball fake war guys spend their afternoons, ever since the whore house got closed.
I am doing my civic duty by reacting to the existence of what they deny. Olds days they used to call us Village Idiot, now they call us Persons Differently Abled of the Parkinsonian Persuasion. They treated us a lot better as the Idiot. They believe that we are unclean and possessed by demons, which I cannot easily disprove given that they won't listen if i speak anyway.
So it will all die off in time, but I do get up and look for things to throw against the wall, and sooner or later that will attract the landlord, and maybe this time they will let me have the keys when they lock the door as they leave,

michael love the utube u sent. it proves i am not crazy at all. These people in the video? Now THAT is crazy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMSWAUAKJn0

If thou would'st kind sir, bite down hard on this

http://neurotalk.psychcentral.com/sh...highlight=mime

whilst I consider thy dilemma.

michael

Bob-
The temptation to start with a joke is strong. If it was anyone else I wouldn't but it being you:
"They closed the whore house???"
Now that that is out of my system, I'm going to PM you. Hang on, buddy.
-Rick

Hey Bob, you forgot to add "started log and wrote in blog" to your diary. So you did do something!

I don't have PD, but I witnessed my neighbors decline and bitterness. I get that way too with my own demons of the body, really angry.
Crank up some music, loud enough to drown out your pain. This and reading is what I do to try and help myself. I have Bob Dylan on, his newest called Tempest. Very somber, makes you think. I do wish you all the best. ginnie