What could possibly be a benefit of having a painful, chronic, progressive disease for which there is no cure and not much effective treatment? To be honest, it is a hypochondriac’s dream.
I often say, except for the constant pain and the inability to do much of anything, it’s a pretty nice life.
For one thing, it is 9:20 on a Monday morning. You are probably at work. I am on my second cup of coffee, sitting in my jammies in my room with a laptop computer on my lap. (I tried using the laptop in bed, but I haven’t found a comfortable pillow arrangement for that yet.)
Seems like a good news/bad news story. I can’t work anymore, so I should be able to sleep in most mornings, but now I can’t sleep in anymore. The pain keeps me awake most of the night, and I have to get up and move around (quietly), or else my legs feel like they will explode or implode or catch on fire or something if I try to stay in bed.
During the day, however, I never want to get out of bed. I can’t read or watch TV for long without falling asleep, so I take little catnaps all day. Sometimes I envy my cat. I’ll bet she doesn’t feel guilty about sleeping during the day and walking around the house at night.
So I’ve got all of this free time on my hands. I can do pretty much anything I want, as long as my body will cooperate. I could spend my days shopping, but with only one breadwinner in the family (that would be my wonderful hubby), and a small disability pension, I can’t afford to buy much, and plus I can’t drive anymore. Plus I can’t walk for long before my muscles all seize up.
I try hard to put it all into perspective. Yesterday morning when I was lying on the kitchen floor doing my human pretzel trick, the thought occurred to that this would be really embarrassing if I had to work and go through this experience someplace other than home.
I have some luxuries that we would not have bought if not for Parkinson’s. I have one of those remote control beds that makes it much more comfortable to read or watch TV in bed (maybe that’s why I keep falling asleep!). I’ve got a jetted tub, so I do my stretching exercises in the water every day. We had to pay for these items, but Medicare rebated the sales tax.
It’s not the life I envisioned, but it’s not so bad. Like I said, it’s a hypochondriac’s dream come true – I have a real disease to complain about.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!
