Lawnmower Man 2021

During the after-Christmas sales last year I managed to gab myself a virtual reality headset. Specifically, I got the shiny new Oculus Quest 2, an entirely self contained, wire free VR headset. No need for a beefy and expensive PC to process the games. Everything is done on board the headset itself. 

There are limits to this freedom. There is a curated storefront, so I can’t simply buy games on Steam to play on the Oculus right away, though with a link cable and a built in feature, you can use the Oculus as a pass through headset and play the greatest VR game ever made to date, Half Life: Alyx. But that would require the afore mentioned beefy and expensive PC, which I do not have. 

It’s also made by bookFace, and intrinsically tied in to the Facebleag infrastructure, requiring an active Facebukk account to log in and start using. 

However, although I only ever otherwise use it for messaging my local Pokémon Go friends, I do actually have an EffBee account. So, good to go, I did a little research. 

VR is a total body experience. Most games have you standing up, moving about, looking around, ducking, dodging, and swinging arms and hands about. This is a lot more than pressing joysticks and buttons on a traditional console. I have a full body tremor, mostly centred on my arms and legs. Would I be able to get into VR at all? 

It turns out VR, and VR exercise in particular, is really great for Parkinson’s. Basically something, something, something, distraction, something, blood flow, something, something, music, fun and tah-dah! It has been shown to have overall positive mood and health benefits. 

So I got in to the VR space focusing on that. All my first apps were fitness forward, such as the phenomenal boxing simulator Thrill of the Fight, and the rhythm action games Beat Sabre and Pistol Whip, my personnel preferred gmae in that genre. I really enjoyed playing all of these, but they were exercise games, and kinda started to become a chore to turn on. Over time, with a narrow focus on just those games, I lost interest in VR entirely. 

It didn’t help that I had no one to share the experience with, both in person and online. With Covid being very much an ever present threat, I couldn’t have friends over to show of my shiny tech to and share challenges with. And I made no effort to find friends online, largely because last year the Oculus was difficult to get hold of, so very few of my friends had one. 

But now a few of my Twitter buddies have one, and I’ve broaden my library thanks to discounts throughout the year, most recently the Black Friday sales. I now have a wonderfully fun, stunning looking, very real feeling mini-golf game, Walkabout Mini Golf. I’ve been having a lot of laughs with that one, and it allows online multiplayer with avatars and in game voice chat and sounds like a whole lot of future fun, because several of my friends already own it! 

Virtual Reality is here, now. Yes, unfortunately the cheapest, easiest entry, beginner friendly, expert featured machine is owned by a very, very evil mega corporation that willfully pushed lies and mistruths and corrupted millions of users opinions on governments, elections, science, vaccines and more. Sigh. But they really are the only horse in the race at this level. 

It is a thrilling experience to put on a wireless headset and discover you can freely move about within a generated environment, interacting naturally with objects and characters. It is equally thrilling to watch a friend try it for the first time and wave at a robot friend, then pick up a can and throw it at the robot, entirely without formal tutorials. 

I’m really enjoying my time in VR. My tremor rarely causes me any issues while I’m exploring my digital world. I can’t wait to see where this goes. 

I also can’t wait for the first time Ada and Connor try it themselves. There will be video. Dear Reader, I promise you, there will be video.

When Life Hands You Lemons, Stay Positive

I was diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinson’s Disease in October 2012, but I’d had a tremor since about April of that year. 

I started medication in September of 2018, which was a little late, if I’m being honest. I had travelled home to Ireland to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary and show off Connor, who was around eight months old, and my family said I was a lot more shaky than they expected. That was on me. I probably should have started medication six months earlier, but…well… I didn’t want to. 

I started at a very low dose of one pill three times a day, increased to four pills over a day after a few months, and then added a single slow release pill for nighttime to help me sleep. I stayed on that dose for a long time, but in the last few months, I noticed I was fighting my tremor more and more, and getting tired and sore more often. 

I decided to meet with my neurologist a few months ahead of my scheduled check up, and we both agreed that I should increase my dosage. At first, I just added another half pill to each dose, and scheduled another visit in six weeks to see how things are going. 

At that check in, we agreed that the effect of the half pill was insufficient, and I increased my dosage another half pill. This effectively doubled my daytime dosage from a month and a half previously. 

That evening, I decided I needed to get out of the house and away from the kids for a walk. I wouldn’t say I was upset or depressed or angry. Just… glum? I just needed to get out and go for a walk and clear my head.

I fired up Pokémon Go on my phone to distract me while I walked and noticed that a gym nearby had some old Pokémon that were due to be knocked out, so I sat on a bench across the street from it and battled the digital monsters. 

I was just finished and had installed my own pocket monster when a senior lady stopped and asked if she could ask me a question. I figured it was about my tremor, because it was showing a bit at the time. Most people notice my tremor, but very few ask about it, instead nervously trying not to be too obvious as they watch my arm. 

I recognized this lady from the neighbourhood, though only in passing, so I assumed she’d noticed it before. I invited her to join me on the bench and she sat beside me. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you the young man that lives on [Street Name] that has Parkinson’s?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

“I’m a friend of [Neighbour Friend]. He told me about you. You see, I just got diagnosed with Parkinson’s myself earlier this month.”

Ah. That was not where I was expecting this conversation to go. 

We spent some time discussing the condition. She hadn’t even had a second meeting with her neurologist. She hadn’t had any discussion on medication, so she had lots of questions about that. 

For her, the future was uncertain. It was all new to her, and more than a bit scary. After talking for a while, she was amazed at my positive attitude. I talked about how, according to my neurologist, a tremor like mine could have been either Parkinson’s, a stroke, or a tumour, so, given the options, I pretty much lucked out! I joked about how I felt like I’d won the lottery with my diagnosis, as of the 10% of the population that will get Parkinson’s at some point in their life, less that 5% of those will get it before they turn 50. I’m a fraction of a fraction! 

After we had talked for a while, we parted ways, but not before introducing ourselves to each other, and I told her that she’s welcome to say hi any time she sees me out and about. I’d love to talk to her more, hear about how things are going, and answer any new questions she has. 

So much went in to us meeting at that exact time on that exact day. I had to chose that time to go for a walk. I had to stop to play Pokémon at that moment. She had to be walking home at that exact time, and then think to stop to ask a question that must have been a little stressful for her to bring up. 

Because destiny brought us together at that exact moment, I was able to talk to her when we both needed it. She appreciated my positivity and openess and getting some answers to her questions. I felt a weight lift off me, and cleared my head. It was nice to talk to my new friend and share some positivity. 

I really am generally quite positive on this subject, and while I find it difficult to bring up in conversation (“How is your cup of tea? By the way, I have Parksinson’s.” “Oh! You like Back to the Future too? Actually, I have…”), I’m happy to discuss it when it does come up. It’s just tough to bring up.

Hint, hint…

In Which I Have A Minor Revelation

I need to start making a bullet list of stuff I can write about quickly at the end of the day. Have a cheat sheet of short topics that aren’t all about my kids. Like, I have a bunch of ideas for longer format posts... which I just realised I could write over several days and still maintain my Buck Fifty streak. I just wouldn’t be posting daily. That’s the whole point of the challenge. D’oh. 

I do all my writing so far at the end of the day, and the number of typos I have to go back and fix would be embarassing if I didn’t have a chronic, progressive, degenerative neurological disease that causes my arms, hands and fingers to tremor and often not react the way I want them too. As it stands, I take it as a challenge! Still, I should probably endeavour to get it done earlier in the day when I’m less shakey, but then I have two small kids battling for my attention. 

Okay, new plan. I might not always post daily, but I’ll stay writing daily. I’ll post the longer format stuff when it’s ready, and shorter posts as I feel the urge to adress stuff. 

Nice. I started todays writing with no idea what I was going to do, and end it haivng a plan for at least part of the rest of the month. Score! 

On Illness And Immortality

We’re all invincible until we get injured.
We’re all immune until we get sick.
We’re all immortal until we die.

We are terrible about talking about anything to do with illness or death. We hate being reminded of our own frailty and mortality and distinct lack of invincibility. But yet, we all have to deal with it at some point, and many of us already deal with it in silence. As soon as you open up to someone, you discover more often than not that they’re going through something relatable too, or know a close friend or family member that is, and appreciate the chance to talk about it.

I learned through the openness of a friend about his own cancer battle that talking about illness is really helpful for everyone. The same goes for any medical condition. As soon as I bring up miscarriages with friends, it seems that everyone has their own story to tell, just no-one wants to be the one to bring it up, but it’s a huge relief to talk about it, even years after. Bottling anything up inside is never is good. Better to have it out in common conversation where people are comfortable mentioning it or asking questions.

But it is hard. I tell people I’m totally fine talking about my Parkinson’s, which is mostly true, but it’s still not easy to drop into conversation.

“Could you pass the salt? I have Parkinson’s.”
“I like this seat in the movie theatre. Nice and central. Also, I have Parkinson’s.”
“Yes, I’ll take my meal to go, please. I have Parkinson’s.”
“Oh, I love Back to the Future. Speaking of Michael J. Fox, I have Parkinson’s.”
And my favourite:
“Shaky cam in movies is the worst! I get it on all my cell phone videos and it doesn’t cost me millions to produce. I have Parkinson’s.”

See? Not that natural.

But when it does come up naturally, or in one of those very few times that someone has politely inquired about my noticeable tremor, then I can talk about, make a few jokes and answer any follow up questions to the best of my ability. Everyone comes away more relaxed.

Knowledge is power. Feel free to ask me about my condition next time we meet. We’ll all be happier for it.

Float Like An Elephant, Sting Like A Letharic Butterfly

Last March a new boxing gym opened nearby. Boxing is apparently one of the great exercises for Parkinson’s, so I decided to join up right away.

I decided right away.

I actually joined about two months later.

I hadn’t really exercised properly since Ada was born. Before then I used to swim regularly. Since Ada arrived my exercise was running to stop her doing something stupid, or carrying her away from whatever stupid thing I couldn’t get to her in time to stop happening. Kids.

But I decided to try my fist at boxing, and fell completely in love with it. By the end of the first week I owned two pairs of my own wraps, and by the end of the first month I had my own gloves!

I joined Raincity Boxing around the start of May and after the first class I knew this was something special. The gym has an incredibly friendly and supportive athmosphere, lead by owner and head coach Sean Sung, who is just one of the nicest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. His classes are always fun and funny. This makes for a really inviting class, regardless of fitness level. All the other members are chatty and supportive, encouraging each other to throw just one more punch, or reach for one last push up. I heard another member describe it as a family, and couldn’t agree more.

My goal when I joined Raincity Boxing was just to get fit, but I quickly had to amend that to “get fitter”. My cardio improved almost over night. I started to notice that I was getting stronger, and Claire pointed out that I was developing a rather nice set of abs. All this, and I was having fun!

I’ve never been one for exercise. I was always slim and never really worried about my weight. When I swam, it was a chore, something I had to get up early to do on my way to work. I did it, but mostly because they already had my money, so I might as well use it. Even then, I only did the bare minimum, two dozen lengths and out. I never pushed myself to do better. I was onctent to just swim for 30 minutes and get out.

But this was different. My plan of just going once a week to start lasted less than the first week, and I was going at least twice a week right away. It wasn’t long until I managed to squeeze in a third class, and I was thrilled the first time I made it to four classes in one week! It had been a long time since I was this excited about something that didn’t involve pixels or tiny cardboard components. Even on the days I didn’t feel up to it, going anyway always felt great. As soon as I walked in that door, everyone was happy to see me and I was happy to see everyone.

I’m never going to be a boxer. My Parkinson’s means that my muscles don’t react as fast as I’d like them too, and with limited force. My coordination is poor, and I struggle to put together combos of four or five moves. I find it diffficult to perform the explosive, burst moves that boxing is known for. And I hate wearing contact lenses, so my experience in a ring with a sparing partner would be something along the lines of watching a fuzzy black blur hit me in the face over and over again.

But I don’t care. I’m having so much fun. I love every class. I love meeting new members and welcoming them in. I love getting just a little better every class, one more pull up, just a little faster than yesterday.

That’s all I need. Not a straight 100% improvement, just a whole bunch of 10% steps.

Still Shakin'

Long time readers know that I was diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinson's Disease in late 2012. When I first bogged about it in October 2013, my intent was to post about it at least once a year, on October 1st, the anniversary of my diagnosis. Clearly, that has not happened.

In fact, if I'm being honest, my PD is one of the reasons I haven't beeen blogging more. Or, more accurately, I'm using it as one of the reasons. I've regularly told myself that my tremor makes typing with my left hand too awkward, and while it is partially true; the tremor does make it more awkward than before I had it; it is, on the whole, bullshit.

The persistant tremor does not stop me from typing, and never has. Sure, I sometimes double type letters, miss a letter here or there, or transpose two adjacent letters in a word, usually from the left side of the keyboard, but I was never the fastest typist anyway, so it really hasn't affected my overall productivity. Using my PD as an excuse to not write more often is just that, an excuse, and a lame one at that.

Since my diagnosis, my condition has continued to progress very slowly indeed. I'm still not on medication, nor do I or my neurologist feel that I need to start any time soon. My left arm still has the noticable tremor, but without lose of strength, and my right arm doesn't show any signs of developing one as of yet. My left leg gets jittery when I get excited, but my walking and running isn't affected at all.

My neurologist has increased the frequency of our visits from 12 to 9 months apart, because, in his own words, it's going to get worse eventually, so we should watch out for it. Despite this, my last two visits lasted less than ten minutes each, and he was very happy with my progress. Or lack of progress, I guess.

So, all is good in the world of Denis and his stupid brain. Yay me.

Shake It Off, Shake It Off

Three years ago, on October 1st, 2012, I was provisionally diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinson's Disease. I wrote about this before, but now, three years on, I want to talk about how I think about my condition, and how it has, or, more accurately, hasn't affected me.

I've had PD for over three years now. Although I didn't see a neurologist until October, I had had tremors since March or April of that year. In those three years I've enjoyed my job, got back to swimming, drew lots of comics, played video games, read books and did lots of craft stuff, both with the kids in school and at home. Oh, and I became a dad. PD hasn't caused me any issues in anything I do. Sure, the tremor is annoying at times, but there's no loss of strength, so I don't have to worry about picking up an increasingly weighty baby! The only difficulty I can even struggle to think about is if I'm asked to write a note without something solid to lean on, say just using a binder held in my left hand. I can still manage it, but it won't be pretty!

Story Break: During the first year or two, I would occasionally blame anything and everything on PD. One time, while we were on holidays, I noticed my tremor was much stronger one morning. I quietly worried about it for an hour or two until Claire noticed that something was up and asked. When I explained, her reaction was "Or maybe it's the four cups of coffee you had over breakfast this morning." I do drink coffee, but not usually that much. We were out having a lovely breakfast and the server just kept refilling my cup. Mystery solved!

Since then, I've stopped blaming PD for everything. Now I blame those infernal cosmic rays from distant alien galaxies trying to alter our DNA for the coming invasion...

Some things will change, eventually. I might not be able to thread a bead for the kids some day. I might find I can't draw a neat circle one morning. Maybe I'll have to carry cups of tea one at a time, instead of one in each hand. All that's okay too. And they'll happen one at a time, not all at once, like the initial diagnosis. I'll deal with them then as they come.

My tremors get worse when I'm stressed, excited, tired, hungry, basically extremes of emotions or conditions, so I've really started to be more aware of my physical condition independant of PD at any time first and foremost. I try to eat well and regularly. I try not to have too much stress in my life, and get plenty of rest. You'd think that would be difficult with a six month old in my life, but Ada is a great night sleeper most of the time, so I usually get a good night's sleep.

The excitement bit is harder. I mean, for me, I get excited at movies, reading a good book, telling a joke, playing with the kids, all that. Heck, I get excited staring at paint dry. I just have to accept that I'm going to show my excitement more than others. That's not really a bad thing, in my opinion. Oh!! Taking photographs can be a bit of a pain, especially at exciting moments. Thank goodness for digital cameras. I just quietly delete all the blurry ones, as if they never happened. I had to let some of the hospital staff photograph the birth of our daughter, which worked out great in the end, as we got some incredibly unique photos to share with her on her 21st birthday/wedding day.

One great bit of advice I was given by my neurologist (I honestly love that I can say that. I have a neurologist! It's like I'm living in a TV show!) is not to let anyone decide for me when I need to start taking medication. Not doctors, not my neurologist, not family or friends. No one. I can choose that for myself, and to date, I have chosen to remain drug-free. I don't really need it yet anyway, the tremors are still pretty much limited to my left arm three years on.

The medication is getting better and better every year, but it's still not great. It has some long-term side effects, the funniest of which is tremors. Yup. The medication for PD causes tremors. Bananas! Anyway, the longer I can go without taking the medication, the longer I'll go before having to deal with the side-effects. Or, by the time I do start taking it, maybe I'll never have to deal with the side effects! One of the reasons for them is that the medication is a pill, so it's strongest when you take it and trails off over time, causing an inconsistency in the effects. This leads to peaks and valleys and the body has to try to compensate for that. They're currently working on a slow release delivery method, something planted under the skin that would release the medication evenly over days or weeks and just need topping-up at regular intervals. Cool!!

There is some advice that was given to me that I haven't taken myself yet, so read into that what you might. I haven't gone to any support groups or meet-ups for people with PD. I know that it's good to talk about these things with other folk and see how well they're coping. But instead, I blog. I believe that being open and honest about PD, or anything really, is great. It shows others that whatever they're dealing with, they're not alone, and sometimes that's how you feel when you get a diagnosis for something, not just PD. I was taught that by friends who survived cancer, and other friends who went through IVF treatments to become pregnant as they talked openly about what they were experiencing. I haven't had to deal with either of those, but their stories helped me with my diagnosis, as well as during the two years we were trying to become pregnant without success.

10% of the population will be diagnosed with PD at some point in their lives. 10%!! That's huge! One in ten people!! If that was a fatal condition, it would, literally, decimate the population! But it's not fatal. It's not even entirely life-changing. It's manageable, and getting more manageable every year.

I plan to live a long time yet, and thanks to medical science I'll be almost as active and productive as anyone else. I'll be a good friend, a good husband, and, hopefully, a good dad for a long time yet.

Post Script: This blog was inspired by a question from a friend. I'm so lucky to have great friends, and if this or anything else raises questions for you, feel free to ask me. I'll be delighted to answer them if I can.

 

Making Babies Is Easy, Except When It Isn't

Yesterday I announced on this blog about our impending end to free time and peace of mind. It was full of joy and happiness.

But as so many people will tell you, that's not always how it goes.

What some of you might not know is that Claire and I have been trying for this for about two years, and during that time we've had some painful close encounters. At least twice, we think we lost an embroy at around the five or six week mark, and every month that went by without even the hint of a successful fertilisation was another month of hope crushed.

When I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease in October of 2012, Claire and I agreed to accelerate our plans a bit. By then we were married four years already, when most couples would already have a few kids. But we had moved to Canada and were still settling down. We hadn't even applied for Permanent Residency yet, and our long term security was not entirely steady. But I felt like I was suddenly on a clock, like this diagnosis put a timer on how much time I have left to potentially be a good father[1].

So we talked about it. We looked at our finances and our lives as they stood. It's said that there is never a perfect time to have kids, and if you're waiting for that, you'll go on waiting. We were in a good place, and so it made sense to try.

Over the last two years we've had moments of hope and moments of despair. There were times when we thought it might just be destined not to be. But we had each other, and for that, I am eternally greatful. Claire has been amazing through everything, not just in relation to the pregnancy, but my diagnosis, work, the fact that Prometheus is such a terrible movie, the Permanent Residency process, everything.

What changed that brought us to this point? Mostly, once again, that's on Claire. Last February/March, Claire took up swordfighting as her hobby and main form of exercise at Academie Duello in downtown Vancouver. She loved it, and started doing it three nights a week. Then, around June, she went to see a naturopath, specifically one related to diet and lifestyle. She had been having some stomach issues around eating certain foods, so, after a few tests and trials, Claire changed her diet, cutting out dairy and gluten. The naturopath recommended some suppliments, and changed the type of folic acid Claire was using to a fast absorption one.

Before the end of July, Claire announced that she was pregnant. We went to Whislter for a vacation at the start of August and had a blast, driving ATV's and spending a day relaxing in an outdoor spa resort.

Since then, we've just been following the growth of our little Spawnling via an app on Claire's phone. It's grown from a lemon to an avacado to a turnip and beyond.

If you're reading this and currently trying to get pregnant and it isn't happening, take heart. Sometimes these things need to take time. Try a new activity. Try a new diet. Talk to us. Talk to the professionals. Ask for help. You're not alone, and you never will be.

It has not been easy to get to this point, but it's been worth it.

[1] It's very important to note that I no longer think like this. I did during the first two weeks and now and then during my lowest times in the first six months. But since then, I've come to honestly believe right to my core that very little has changed, and it won't for a long time. There is no timer, no clock ticking down over (or inside) my head. Life was amazing even before the pregnancy, and is only getting better. We landed a science vessel on a comet flying beyond Martian orbit yesterday. I am living in a golden age, and my own little bubble of life and living glows brightly.

Not So Terrific

For some, this is going to be old news, for others, this might be the first time you've heard about what I'm going to say, and for a few, this might just be the first time you've heard me saying it. But, I'm fairly confident that for everyone, myself included, this is going to be a difficult post to read. I'm sorry.

Around February or March of 2012 I noticed I had a slight tremor in my left arm. Nothing too serious, just a small thing. I thought it was stress induced, as we were between our visas and not working. Unfortunately, when I had to get my medical as part of my visa, the doctor said it wasn't stress, or RSI, or any of that, and referred me to a neurologist. As a man, I delayed seeing him for as long as possible.

On October 1st, 2012, one year ago today, I saw the neurologist, and he confirmed that I had early onset Parkinson's Disease. Or at least, he confirmed it as best he could. There's no medical test for PD, but he said I had all the typical signs. He recommended I get an MRI to confirm it wasn't anything else. I got that in December, and it came back clean, so we were back to the PD diagnosis.

Here are some facts:

About 10% of the population will get PD at some point in their lives, but most are over 60 or even 70 years old by the time they get it. About 4-5% of that number get it before 50, so I am in a select group, a fraction of a fraction of the population. I should have run out and done the lotto when I was told, but I didn't. I was devastated. My entire life just crumbled away before my trembling fingertips. For a brief time, I thought I'd lost it all. I thought we'd have to go back to Ireland and give up everything we had worked so hard for here in Vancouver. Going back wouldn't have exactly been a terrible thing, mind you, but we really did love it here by then, and do even more so now. Also, the health care system here is insane, and the University of British Columbia, just a bus ride away from where we live, is at the forefront of research into treating Parkinson's.

I thought I'd lose Claire. I know, that's a stupid thought. But for a moment, I thought it. I even offered to go home without her if it came to it, allowing her to stay here and work on her new and swiftly growing freelance career. She was having none of it, of course, and in the last year, as in the last 13 years that I've been with her, she's been nothing short of incredible.

That's it. That's all the bad news. So here's the good stuff:

It's been a year. Nothing much has changed. I can still work, I still love my job. I'm not taking any medication yet, despite the neurologist telling me in October that I'll probably be on something within 6 months. It's been 12 months now, and it hasn't gotten a whole lot worse yet, which is, obviously, a good thing. It's localized at the moment to my left arm and left leg. My right hand is... yup, just checked now, it's as tremor-free as it ever was. So this doesn't stop me drawing or writing. Even my left arm hasn't gotten significantly worse, as far as I can tell. My leg is fine if I'm walking or even running short distances, but if I try to fast-walk or jog, I notice that it stiffens up a bit. Running and fast-walking must use different muscles, or at least muscles in different ways. Even then, it hasn't been enough to stop me from doing anything. This summer is Vancouver has been astonishingly good, and I've done more outdoor activities than any summer I can think of in recent memory.

And I still have Claire. She's been my rock and my saviour. I know that this kills her at times, but usually, she's fine. She only seems to get upset about it when I'm telling someone about it. When I told the gang back home, I noticed she had to quietly leave the room.

But we're over the shock now. The first week, maybe two, was the hardest. After that, we both realized that not much has changed, or will change for some time. I'm an eternal optimist, so I just picked up the pieces of my apparently shattered lives, discovered that everything was intact, and had, in fact, just been knocked off the shelf for a bit.

I love following the development of technologies, and there is some fantastic stuff coming down the line for PD. This diagnosis 10 years ago would have been a dramatically different story, and in 10 years time, it'll be different again, in a good way.

Why am I telling you this now?

 Despite having a noticeable tremor since February or March, I was diagnosed a year ago today. It's hard to find the right time to tell people bad news, and it's very easy to find excuses why any time is the wrong time. I didn't tell anyone when I first got diagnosed, apart from my family. It was right before Christmas, and I didn't want to "ruin" anyone's holiday. Then we were planning the trip home, so why break the news to my closest friends over email when I'll be seeing them in a few weeks any? Then we were back, and I had work to divert my attention. Then it was the summer and everyone was having a great time. I could find excuses for now too, like, "I'm too busy", "I haven't blogged in months", "I want to write about other things", but that's all just putting it off, when really, I feel like people should know.

I don't want this to be a secret, to be some dirty thing that I'm going through. I want to be open with it, to show everyone that I'm still me, still living my life. And this is the first step to that, telling people.

I'm sorry if reading this has upset anyone, or ruined anyone's mood for the day. It wasn't easy writing it either. I'm sorry if you feel left out because I didn't tell you in person. It's hard to talk about at times, even after a year. I've never been sick before. I've never had to tell anyone I'm suffering from anything that doesn't warrant a "Ya big baby! It's just the flu!", or what have you. I've never taken medication for anything stronger than an over-the-counter painkiller, and even then, it's rare.

I've told people in a reasonably big group, in small groups and individually. I had to tell my mum over the phone. None of them are particularly "easier" than any other. At least in person, people can see how I really am. I mean, for all anyone reading this knows, I can be saying "I'm fine", while rolling around uncontrollably on the floor! I'm not. I really am fine. It's just clearer in person.

We live in a world where we know enough about the brain that I could get a probe shoved in to just the right spot to stop the tremors at the flick of a switch. A world where, excepting some horrific natural disaster, we're moving forward at an alarming pace with technology of all forms. A world where someone somewhere is finding another new way to make us live longer, better, healthier lives.

And I'm going to benefit directly from all of that.

I live on. I look to people like Michael J. Fox, who was diagnosed with Parkinson's when he was 30, and has just started a new sitcom as I write this[1]. He still works, and has a wonderful family, and this brings me great hope.

This is a comma in the story of my life, not a full stop.

Denis
[1] - I can't bring myself to watch The Michael J. Fox Show just yet, but I'll be sure to write up a review once I do.