'Isabel' is a story I wrote and even tried to get published. It was, as this writing is, a kind of therapeutic effort on my part to bring out all of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences that were not wholly positive and useful to my health and well being. Writing it completely changed by outlook on my past life and my future. I have changed my mind about publishing the entire story but I would like to share an excerpt or two with you. These excerpts represent my life's goals and inspirations in the wake of Parkinson's.
My breath came in short, hard, but controlled gusts. Sweat threatened to break through my carefully placed makeup and my form fitting dress. My feet felt like two bouncing balls at the end of their bounce. But I was not focused on these sensations. I only heard or rather felt the one thing that kept me moving. I was exultant! I was ecstatic! I was complete!
I had waited for this day for many long years. I was living my dream. I...was dancing. It was something I only thought about secretly, even afraid to consciously acknowledge the dream to myself, until I met my dance partner.
The music was escalating now. This was my favorite part...up into the air I went supported by the solid arms of my partner. Around and around I went, my gown flowing in the air in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the dance. The crowd screamed in pleasure and clapped intensely!
This moment was a culmination of years of sweat, tears and great physical and emotional pain. It was the sweetest moment I had ever experienced. I often asked myself if it was worth it. My answer was always an immediate YES!
It was a brilliant, beautiful move. My partner and I executed it perfectly, the music giving me the permission and the power to finish it. I felt strong yet graceful. The audience solidified the reality of these feelings with their display of gratitude.
The music slowed now. Strong, skilled arms brought me down gently but swiftly like a dove lighting on a fragile tree branch. I touched the ground and again my feet took over; moving my body with exactness, following that glorious music which seemed to flow through my heart and down into my feet. Now the crowd was quiet with anticipation. Many were leaning forward in their seats staring, waiting; not wanting this beautiful display of feeling to end. They were feeling it as much as I was. It would have been difficult not to.
The music ended; slowly, elegantly. My feet stopped! I was looking into t
he face of my husband; my dance partner. There was silence for a thrilling second. The entire room felt it. We had enjoyed a perfect ending to our dance together as we shared it with our audience. In that second our emotions transferred to one another through our eyes. We understood one another....
The audience erupted with joyous yet respectful applause. I wanted the moment to last forever. I turned with my husband to look at the source of applause. Such fulfillment was unbelievably good. I would do this again; as long as providence granted my body the strength and agility. I acknowledged my partner, then my audience, humbled and filled with gratitude for them. Eyes still watched as we exited the dance floor. As I departed hand in hand with my husband I met their eyes. I saw there a cheerful envy and respect...for my dance, for my partner, and...for me!
*********
It was the first inkling that something was wrong.
I was in the car...again; in my role as taxicab driver to my family. I spent a lot of time in the car running inbetween the kids' schools, baseball games, church activities and sundry other 'things'. Today I was preoccupied with something...? I couldn't move my left ring finger and pinky finger. They were stuck together like glue to the steering wheel. Just for a second...but they had definately been frozen, stuck. What was wrong with my fingers? I raised my hand up to scrutinize the two affected appendages as if my eyes would have the power to erase what I had just experienced.
"I was tired", I reasoned in my mind.
My hands needed something to do other than hold this piece of plastic and metal called a steering wheel that was forever before me. I quickly forgot about my sticky fingers as I arrived at the middle school. Into the car came thirteen-year-old Emma. Without so much as a glance at me, Emma's complaining, dominant personality spilled into the car and quickly filled it almost beyond my capacity to exist with it.
"Hi Mom. You will not believe what Elli did today! I'll never speak to her again..."
Her voice trailed off as I felt distracted again; with what? I was angry. Why was I angry? What was it?
"......I knew it was the worst day of my life, Mom, when I had to pull my retainer out of the garbage while the stupid boys, oh...stupid boys, stood there laughing. They could have helped me, but no, they acted like complete..."
I mumbled something about her having a better day tomorrow. It was my feeble way of trying to quiet the storm called Emma. Emma was so embroiled with the details of her awful day that she did not hear me.
"I would never act like that. What's wrong with boys anyway?" she continued; still not looking directly at me.
Did I imagine it or did my fingers stick together again? Oh, ...where were we? What street wa
s this? Where were we going again? I really wanted it to be home. I realized that Emma had stopped her tirade and was now looking at me.
"Mom, did you hear me? What's wrong?"
There was a look of utter exasperation on her face. In the back seat, my daughter, April, suddenly woke up crying; demanding to be let out of her car seat that she had cruelly been strapped into for over an hour. My whole body cringed at the sound of the frustrated screaming of my youngest child!
"Thanks Emma", I groaned. At that moment I was now fully angry. I wanted to make sure she understood this was not going to happen tomorrow. She would get into the car in silence so I would not have to bear April's screaming. I wanted to explain to my middle daughter that her problems were so small and silly compared to...compared to what? Yes. There were so many problems......
Her older sister, Natalie, a freshman in high school, had problems. April, who would soon have her first birthday, wanted her problem solved rig
ht now! Her brother, David, had his complaints as well. Although, David's personality had always been a bit sweeter than all of the girls put together. I wanted to make Emma understand.....but the only thing that escaped my lips that Emma's growing storm cloud did not blot out was a groan of impending pain as I realized I was feeling the small, sharp stab of an oncoming migraine.....
....more to come....
My breath came in short, hard, but controlled gusts. Sweat threatened to break through my carefully placed makeup and my form fitting dress. My feet felt like two bouncing balls at the end of their bounce. But I was not focused on these sensations. I only heard or rather felt the one thing that kept me moving. I was exultant! I was ecstatic! I was complete!
I had waited for this day for many long years. I was living my dream. I...was dancing. It was something I only thought about secretly, even afraid to consciously acknowledge the dream to myself, until I met my dance partner.
The music was escalating now. This was my favorite part...up into the air I went supported by the solid arms of my partner. Around and around I went, my gown flowing in the air in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the dance. The crowd screamed in pleasure and clapped intensely!
This moment was a culmination of years of sweat, tears and great physical and emotional pain. It was the sweetest moment I had ever experienced. I often asked myself if it was worth it. My answer was always an immediate YES!
It was a brilliant, beautiful move. My partner and I executed it perfectly, the music giving me the permission and the power to finish it. I felt strong yet graceful. The audience solidified the reality of these feelings with their display of gratitude.
The music slowed now. Strong, skilled arms brought me down gently but swiftly like a dove lighting on a fragile tree branch. I touched the ground and again my feet took over; moving my body with exactness, following that glorious music which seemed to flow through my heart and down into my feet. Now the crowd was quiet with anticipation. Many were leaning forward in their seats staring, waiting; not wanting this beautiful display of feeling to end. They were feeling it as much as I was. It would have been difficult not to.
The music ended; slowly, elegantly. My feet stopped! I was looking into t
he face of my husband; my dance partner. There was silence for a thrilling second. The entire room felt it. We had enjoyed a perfect ending to our dance together as we shared it with our audience. In that second our emotions transferred to one another through our eyes. We understood one another....The audience erupted with joyous yet respectful applause. I wanted the moment to last forever. I turned with my husband to look at the source of applause. Such fulfillment was unbelievably good. I would do this again; as long as providence granted my body the strength and agility. I acknowledged my partner, then my audience, humbled and filled with gratitude for them. Eyes still watched as we exited the dance floor. As I departed hand in hand with my husband I met their eyes. I saw there a cheerful envy and respect...for my dance, for my partner, and...for me!
*********
It was the first inkling that something was wrong.
I was in the car...again; in my role as taxicab driver to my family. I spent a lot of time in the car running inbetween the kids' schools, baseball games, church activities and sundry other 'things'. Today I was preoccupied with something...? I couldn't move my left ring finger and pinky finger. They were stuck together like glue to the steering wheel. Just for a second...but they had definately been frozen, stuck. What was wrong with my fingers? I raised my hand up to scrutinize the two affected appendages as if my eyes would have the power to erase what I had just experienced.
"I was tired", I reasoned in my mind.
My hands needed something to do other than hold this piece of plastic and metal called a steering wheel that was forever before me. I quickly forgot about my sticky fingers as I arrived at the middle school. Into the car came thirteen-year-old Emma. Without so much as a glance at me, Emma's complaining, dominant personality spilled into the car and quickly filled it almost beyond my capacity to exist with it.
"Hi Mom. You will not believe what Elli did today! I'll never speak to her again..."
Her voice trailed off as I felt distracted again; with what? I was angry. Why was I angry? What was it?
"......I knew it was the worst day of my life, Mom, when I had to pull my retainer out of the garbage while the stupid boys, oh...stupid boys, stood there laughing. They could have helped me, but no, they acted like complete..."
I mumbled something about her having a better day tomorrow. It was my feeble way of trying to quiet the storm called Emma. Emma was so embroiled with the details of her awful day that she did not hear me.
"I would never act like that. What's wrong with boys anyway?" she continued; still not looking directly at me.
Did I imagine it or did my fingers stick together again? Oh, ...where were we? What street wa
s this? Where were we going again? I really wanted it to be home. I realized that Emma had stopped her tirade and was now looking at me.
"Mom, did you hear me? What's wrong?"
There was a look of utter exasperation on her face. In the back seat, my daughter, April, suddenly woke up crying; demanding to be let out of her car seat that she had cruelly been strapped into for over an hour. My whole body cringed at the sound of the frustrated screaming of my youngest child!
"Thanks Emma", I groaned. At that moment I was now fully angry. I wanted to make sure she understood this was not going to happen tomorrow. She would get into the car in silence so I would not have to bear April's screaming. I wanted to explain to my middle daughter that her problems were so small and silly compared to...compared to what? Yes. There were so many problems......
Her older sister, Natalie, a freshman in high school, had problems. April, who would soon have her first birthday, wanted her problem solved rig
ht now! Her brother, David, had his complaints as well. Although, David's personality had always been a bit sweeter than all of the girls put together. I wanted to make Emma understand.....but the only thing that escaped my lips that Emma's growing storm cloud did not blot out was a groan of impending pain as I realized I was feeling the small, sharp stab of an oncoming migraine.........more to come....
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