I have been writing poetry and stories since I was a child, and a love of reading was instilled in me from an early age. I am passionate about writing, and hope you enjoy the books I have written. Whilst most of you sleep soundly in your beds, like many Parkinson’s patients, insomnia dictates, so during those hours that sleep eludes me, the house is tranquil and quiet, an atmosphere perfect to immerse myself in writing. My life has been a series of strange events, which have without doubt contributed to my creativity. To publish anything is to bear one’s soul to the world. It is to stand naked and let everyone see who you really are. I have poured my heart and soul out on paper and I hope to share this journey, immersing you in a story, capturing your attention and firing the imagination. Through my writing and public speaking I hope to bring greater awareness to the general public about living with chronic disease.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Having been hospitalized many a time, I absurdly refer to the hospital as my "second home"! Over the years I have come to know most of the doctors, nurses and staff in different departments. I would have thought by now, they'd offer me a deal; two visits for the price of one, or maybe a "frequent visit card"! With Parkinson's, I always have to ensure I've enough pills with me to cover my hospital stay, and I am held solely responsible for taking them. I always take with a list of my PD medications, dosages and times of day, so that the staff are aware of what I am taking, in addition to any medications that I'm allergic to, which I clearly mark in bright red. I had hip surgery a few years ago, and am so familiar with pre-operation procedures, I took it all in my stride. However, I did have to laugh when the surgeon drew a large arrow with a black marker on my leg indicating which one was to be operated, ensuring no mistakes once l lay unconscious on the operating table. The wrist band with my name on it, was reassuringly checked several times before I was finally wheeled into the operating room, where it is always so cold, I feel as if I've arrived at the North Pole. But alas no reindeer, cookies or hot chocolate, just a warm blanket was placed over me until the anaesthesiologist asked me to count back from ten, "10, 9, 8" is probably as far as I've ever managed to get before blissfully falling under his spell (or rather from the anaesthetic that's entered my veins). As long as I'm out for the count, and I can't see or hear anything, I'm just fine, and when I eventually open my eyes, I find I've magically returned from the North Pole and thankfully find myself in the warmer climate of the recovery ward. Even though the operation may have been a total success, it is ultimately up to the patient to make a full recovery, ensuring to follow any instructions, and physiotherapy being of great importance should be taken very seriously and done meticulously on a regular basis.
Posted by Parkinson's, shaken, not stirred at 7:00 AM