My World of Parkinsonian Delights

It’s Official. I’m Useless.

It was dog-grooming day here at the ranch.  I helped Gail hold down the shepherd so she could trim her nails and comb out the loose fur.  Then I held down the border collie so she could get the same treatment.  After which, they each got a bath in turn.

After the border collie got her bath, Gail — who was dripping wet and exhausted — asked if I would mind taking Raven out to use the yard.  I said no problem.  She did her business and then went into “defense mode.”  Another loose hillbilly neighbor dog walked into our yard.

Thank goodness, this is a nice dog.  But as far as Raven was concerned, she was going to be attacked and bitten again, so she went absolutely ballistic.  The intruder hung his head and looked sad while Raven barked and pulled and barked and pulled and ended up pulling me down the stairs.

I hollered Gail’s name, but she couldn’t hear me.  So, like trying to pull in a struggling swordfish, I gathered the retractable leash an inch or two at a time until Raven was close enough to grab.  By this time, two little girls who were tracking the runaway came by the yard, so the dog scooted away to enjoy a few more minutes of freedom.

I got Raven into the house, then noticed my right ankle and right thigh were aching and I felt dizzy.  So I just flopped down on the couch.

I told Gail what happened, and she seemed upset by my mentioning that I had called her and she didn’t hear me.  “I just won’t ask you to do anything anymore,” she said.

JUST what a man who already feels neutered by Parkinson’s disease needed to hear.

I’ve always been an easy cryer.  The other night, I felt weepy when Gail wouldn’t get up to look at fireflies with me but I managed to keep the waterworks turned off for that event.

But this got the tears flowing.

I love Gail.  She is the love of my life.  I could not survive without her.  But sometimes when she’s upset (and she was upset that she had asked me to do something and I got hurt doing it), she says things that hurt.  Then she gets upset that you’re hurt by what she said.  Then she ran down all the list of things she has to do because I can’t and said she can’t handle my crying on top of that.

I explained that it’s part of the disease process.

She begged to differ, saying I’ve always been a cryer when we’d argue in the earlier days of our marriage.  And that’s true.  But now, like I said, there are time when I just want to cry and I have no idea why.

It’s explained in the PD literature

Emotionalism in PD refers to heightened and excessive sentimentality that is inappropriate, unmotivated, and involuntary. It is usually fleeting, but there are often visible tears or weeping.

These little brouhaha’s never last long.

Ah, sweet mystery of life…

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