A girl friend thoughtfully took me to our local pool one morning. It was a fantastic feeling being in the water and I felt almost “normal” in the pool (whatever “normal” is!). I hadn’t been swimming for over 3 years and I had wondered if I’d sink to the bottom like a weighted corpse. But I needn’t have worried, for the repetitive natural action of swimming felt so good, it was as if I’d been to the pool just last week. I was able to swim much more than I had envisaged, but what amazed me more than anything, was whilst buoyant in the water, I could barely feel the Parkinson’s at all. Of course I paid for my enthusiasm dearly later on in the day, and had the most dreadful night.
The longer I live with Parkinson’s, the more I suspect how little we all understand about this unpredictable disease. If anyone had seen me in the water that day, they would never have thought I suffered from Parkinson’s. However, the moment I stepped out of the pool, I was reduced back to shuffling and Parkinson’s was once again in full swing. How can I expect other people to understand what I go through, when I hardly understand it myself?
Depressed or frustrated? - it's a fine line and a topic for my article this week in The Huffington Post.