Writer’s Cramp

February 21, 2022

It’s a little cheeky, Rob. Don’t you think? I mean to write about Parkinson’s.

You’re not a neurologist. You don’t have any answers. No clever means by which to cope. No inspiring story.

And it’s not exactly a laughing matter. There’s a good chance, don’t you think, you might offend someone. Maybe a fellow Parky, a parent, a spouse, a child or friend who is struggling right now. Had a bad day. Doesn’t see much to laugh about.

I get it. And I don’t blame you. If that’s you, stop. Stop right now. This might not be your cup of tea.

I write because I can’t not write. I’m just an old curmudgeon with writer’s cramp who enjoys burdening others with thoughts they might have preferred he kept to himself. I like to poke fun. Mostly at myself. I find it helps me to sit still in a world that won’t seem to hold still.

I don’t pretend to have anything profound to say. My only hope is that maybe, just maybe, if I turn a clever phrase or two, find the humor in the absurd, and occasionally say out loud what my fellow Parkies are thinking but . . . unlike me . . . are too dignified to admit, I might bring a smile, a laugh, a sigh . . . more likely a yawn…to my friends and family, or maybe a new friend who, like me, has too much time on his hands, too little judgment on how best to waste it, and try as he might can’t seem to hold still.

Parkinson’s is many things. Mystifying. Annoying. Unpredictable. Sometimes depressing, Always humbling. And without getting too maudlin here, likely to someday be my undoing.

But not today. Not today. I can’t hold still and I’ve still too much to say.