Part of Parkinson is truly frightening. It is when suddenly, no prior alarm, one finds oneself in the act of falling. Despite all training, it will happen. Over one goes like a toppled tree, with all the consequences. Suddenly you are on the floor, the breath knocked out of you, then, the pain.
You cannot move. Body parts do not respond to commands. You are consigned to the floor, nobody around, and there you lie, shouting for help. No one hears. No one passes by. The panic grows, as does the pain, as does the complete sense of anger, of disappointment and of despair.
One lies there almost in a stupor of despair and hopelessness - at least until enters the cavalry in the form of EMTs and Paras. G-d bless them and their knowledge and patience. Finally you are off the floor. Finally you are taken for help. And finally, you realize that this was the big one, not shaken off so easily. Life has changed. To what extent and for how long? No answer available right now.
And so one cries. One rages. One rails at the miserable fate handed to you and the why of that is never answered. And one hates oneself for becoming the burden to others, for crashing the plans for retirement.
Oh, there are some silver linings here. The dedicated therapists, the new family they become. The amazement at the ability to find new paths and new interests. Best of all, is the devotion of husband, children, grandchildren and friends.
You indeed are loved. You indeed are valued. And on Tuesday, when we finally know the full extent of the damage done and the path to recovery, we will lean on those to whom we remain loved and valued.
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