This
past June was the 5th (anniversary
isn't really the correct word) of me apparently wanting to be More
Like Mike (J. Fox), and Muhammad, and Linda, ah, but, Robin never
stayed around long enough to find out where the full “Parkinson's
E Ticket”
took him. Parkinson's is the
Ebola of of movement disorders, as it seems to change and morph
direction, even in a single person with Parkinson's disease. My PD
started with tremors, and then there was the temporary right side
paralysis. Imagine putting your right hand in your pocket and falling
forward. Boom! My pelvis, 9 ribs, right clavicle, now a new left hip,
and umpteen stitches from the neck up-all painfully recorded before I
was diagnosed. I now have a million funny stories that, in reality,
were not so funny when I was attempting to figure out what was
happening to my body. It's still like adolescence, puberty, all over
again at 62.
There
was learning how and when not to put in contact lenses; when not to
shave (think of the original “Airplane” and the guy in the
bathroom). And then there are the jokes. How do you make a cobra into
a rattlesnake? Give it to Sean on a bad day. Where is a place that's
constantly snowing? Sean's snow-globe. These days, like a petulant
child, my left side has a mind of its own. I'll be dipped in sugar
if, months after that “latest” symptom appears, my mind and body
tell me things are all honky-Dorie again. And I believe it!
But
there is an upside, too: I have never been more spiritual and less
afraid, read more great writers and watched less TV; write better and
more often and now rarely rely on on texting; run marathons no longer, but these days I bike more & see more new things; listen more and talk less; forgot how to make a living, but discovered how to make a life; weeded out those to whom I bring pain, and these days marvel at the sprouting of hope and optimism in me; no longer work to impress the word, but now work each day to appear on the radar screen of just one. My life,
either as an
English teacher or Dean of Students, Jesuit, Dah, Dada, Dad,
Ex-husband, Ex-boyfriend, writer, grateful friend and now former
well-traveled Dude, seems to have been a life based on the pursuit of
excitement, fun, travel, and the life-long belief in my entitlement.
Now, with Parkinson's and a beautiful daughter, it is a life based on acceptance that I was far
more lucky than entitled.
There
certainly is no denying that I have had several lifetimes of
incredible success stories, but there are also many more tales of my misadventures.
Although I have done many things, none, it seems, have I done
particularly well. These days Parkinson's disease and medications call
the shots, and, I have to admit, there is a sense of relief in me. Oddly
enough, I am on a path not to happiness, but simply the
day-in-and-day-out pursuit of being a better person. Something I
never set out to accomplish, but now something I truly hope I will do
exceptionally well. It is for my daughter that I
continue to journal, because I believe a history of who I became
is a far better barometer of "Sean James McGinty" than who I was. It is a gift given to her, but not
yet received.
Finally,
I have learned that “Family” is infinitely more important than health. Parkinson's
has certainly thrown me a late-in-life curve ball. However, like
Life, the game of baseball is one of constant adjustment. Batter to pitcher, pitcher to batter, defensive shifts, and offensive strategies. The game is slow, requires patience, and, because of its history, has withstood mistakes and errors along the way-just like me. I am growing to appreciate Parkinson's disease in the same
manner I love baseball. People don't die from PD, and players do not
die from baseball. Both, I have come to understand, make each day unpredictable but certainly more interesting. And please God I never forget: "The only
people I should ever try and get even with-are those that helped me
along the way!"
Sean
James McGinty
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