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Wheat Ridge, Colorado
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​A humorous look at one person's journey with Parkinson's and Dystonia

For me, illness and health are not opposites but exist together. Everyone has something that is challenging to them. Mine just simply has a recognizable name. My life will take a different path because of this but that's okay. Everyone has changes in their lives that create their path.  I'm learning how to enjoy whatever path I'm on.

If you enjoy my writings, please share them with others!

Terri

My Parkinson's Journey

In which Terri shares a humorous look at her journey with Parkinson's disease and Dystonia:

For me, illness and health are not opposites but exist together. Everyone has something that is challenging to them. Mine just simply has a recognizable name. My life will take a different path because of this but that's okay. Everyone has changes in their lives that create their path.  I'm learning how to enjoy whatever path I'm on.

Make your house fair

Terri Reinhart

...as you are able. I'm glad the song continues with this line. I'm still in the process of simplifying and clearing out everything I don't use, can't use anymore, or just simply don't need. It feels so good to do this, I will have to be careful so I don't give away things I need. Simplifying can become addicting. 

The challenging part of taking on a challenge like simplifying my life while managing a challenging health disorder is the challenge of having enough energy to do something more challenging than just simply making it through the day. Then there's the challenge of trying to pace myself so I can do challenging things without crashing and without getting totally pissed off because I can't do as many things as I used to do and everything I do is just a little more challenging than it used to be.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. I haven't even finished writing down my Thanksgiving thoughts. 

When our children were younger, I would have made an advent calendar. I would have stayed up half the night to get it all done so it was ready in the morning. We would have also made our wreath, which was only difficult because we didn't get our tree so early and had to scramble for greens. These last few years, I've forgotten about the wreath until it came time to light the candle at dinner. Tonight, I hastily found a votive candle and holder so we could celebrate the beginning of Advent. We lit the candle, but forgot to say the verse. 

Though my spiritual beliefs have gone on a wild roller coaster ride over the last ten years or so, the traditions are still important to me. The days are getting shorter. It's time to be more introspective. Time to acknowledge the cycles of the earth and what they can teach us. The first light of Advent is the light of the stones, stones that live in seashells and crystals and bones. It's time to be thankfully aware of the basics: the ground we stand on, the bones which hold up our physical bodies, the foundation and bricks that hold up our house. 

Another basic part of our foundation we can find in a classic Advent hymn, written in 1928 by Eleanor Farjeon: 

"People look east, the time is near for the crowning of the year! Make your house fair as you are able, trim the hearth and set the table. People look east and sing today, love the guest is on its way."

Part of our foundation as human beings are other human beings. Certainly our family is our real foundation, hopefully a strong one. But the song tells us to look out from our homes. Get your house ready and make sure you have food to share. Who is our guest? As a Catholic school student when I was very young, I learned the guest is Jesus, of course. As a young adult I learned the only way to see Jesus was to see his divine light in every person.

Okay, so this is enough of a challenge for the first week. Nothing too difficult. Just get my house cleaned and tidied, make sure to have enough food on hand so if any of you decide to stop by, I can fix you a cup of tea and a snack, and make sure I am centered enough to see the divine light in everyone I meet. 

Back to tidying... as a former Catholic school kid, I have a few interesting challenges when it comes to cleaning. Even after all these years, I still have prayer books, prayer cards, an old scapular, some broken rosaries and, what I think belonged to my uncle, a wooden crucifix that is broken with Jesus' metal body tied on with string. Throwing anything such as these in the trash or even recycling them makes my inner Catholic school kid shudder. We learned (really) that if we did anything to harm the Jesus statue, we would be harming Jesus. I'm thinking of putting all these things in a basket and leaving them at the church door.

I'm sure those old superstitious beliefs are not taught to Catholic children anymore, so I don't feel bad about clearing my house and my psyche of such oddments. In my house and in my beliefs, it's time to get back to basics. It's all I have energy for, anyway.

The first light of Advent is the light of the stones.

 

Admitting Defeat, but not Defeated

Terri Reinhart

Once again, I am cleaning and decluttering my house. Mostly, I need to declutter my workroom, my studio, and my closet. This time I mean it. Don't laugh. I know it won't be done tomorrow and if you come by next week, the clutter will probably still be there, but it will get done. 

I will go through all my craft supplies and put them out for my kids and grandkids to peruse and choose what they want to keep. I'll keep a few things here for the grandkids, for sure, but most of the craft supplies are going to go. It's been two years since I've done any serious craft work. There may be a yard sale in our future. (next spring)

This has been one of the more difficult transitions for me with my Parkinson's and Dystonia. While I can still do things with my hands, I don't have the energy to focus on the work. My imagination has slowed as my thinking has slowed. I know part of this is my medication, but not all. It's been a gradual decline in my work. I can still knit and felt and make books. I just can't make them like I want to make them. It's the difference between having legible handwriting and doing calligraphy. Craft-wise, I'm at the legible handwriting stage. I'd rather stop for now than make things I'm not excited about.

So, the craft supplies are going. I'll keep the gallery here and the patterns, but there won't be anything new for now. Some day, when I have more time and energy, maybe I'll try something totally different. I don't know what it will be, but I'm already thinking about the possibilities. 

For now, I'm mostly excited about seeing the top of my desk.

Twisted

Terri Reinhart

It's Dystonia awareness month and I'm supposed to write something so people will learn about and start to recognize this totally weird and somewhat unpredictable disorder. Considering it is, like Parkinson's, somewhat of a designer disease and affects each person in a unique way, it can be difficult to explain. Some of my twisted friends are posting videos. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words and a video is worth at least a thousand pictures going by very quickly. (Actually, that's film, but it sounds good.)

I'm not real comfortable doing selfie videos, so I'll write and do my best to not use a thousand words. A disclaimer before I start: there may be some of you out there who will say, that symptom isn't dystonia, it's Parkinson's. For this, I will apologize in advance. Sometimes I can't tell which is which. There may also be a few people who will disagree with my weird sense of humor. I won't apologize for this. It's how I stay relatively sane...or at sane enough that my family and other relatives will put up with me.

So, here goes...

Dystonia comes in many forms. These are just a few:

1. The Rebel - the whole body is functioning normally or what generally passes for normal these days. Yup, it's all good. Except for the big toe on one foot which is standing at attention, perpendicular to said foot. The rest of the toes often follow its lead. The opposite of the Rebel would be the Shy Toes, which curl under the foot. Either way, they're not fond of shoes.

2. T-Rex at Dinner - when the elbows decide to attach themselves to the sides of the body, limiting arm movement considerably. Why this happens more often at dinner than at other times of the day is unknown. Eating is definitely a challenge. Good for you if you're dieting. Not so good if you're hungry and your family finishes everything before you get the first bite all the way to your mouth. 

3. Wink, wink - It's really the muscles in my face pulling to my left side. I'm not flirting with you, I promise. This is different from Blink, blink, which is a Parkinson's thing that happens when we don't blink, blink enough.

4. Involuntary Pliés - My legs want to dance, sometimes without telling me. Another way to describe this is to picture yourself on strings, like a marionette. The puppeteer lets the strings go slack suddenly, then pulls them back up again. It's kind of cool. Really freaks out people, especially going through security at the airport. 

5. Twist and Shout - This can be one body part or many at once - often (for me) caused by a startle reflex. Someone drops a spoon in the kitchen, you never know what I'll do. My arms may twist up onto my chest or they may flail outward (often when I'm holding a sharp knife - which is why my family is very careful not to startle me), my feet turn in, I may do a #4, might walk backwards or sideways with great force until I hit a wall or counter. The shout part generally includes a lot of swearing.

6. Bar Fight Gif Mode - You know those annoying gifs that show a very short video over and over and over. That can happen to us sometimes. We become gifs. The neck jerks to one side and down as though someone is slapping you, over and over. The abs contract as though you're being punched in the stomach, over and over. You can't find the pause or stop button and you're stuck in this mode for some time. (My record so far has been about 7 hours) It's not only painful, it's boring.

7. The Works - All, or most of the above, happening at the same time. Generally referred to as a Dystonic Storm. It would be like being fully conscious while having a grand mal seizure. Like being beat up, relentlessly. 

Mostly, it's a weird disorder where our bodies seem to be arguing over which part is making the decisions. It's like having cerebral palsy - part time - and the diagnoses are sometimes confused. With many people, dystonia is extremely painful. We don't have all these symptoms all the time. Sometimes.. occasionally... well, once in awhile, we even look sort of ...NORMAL! 

Just don't hold your breath. We'll come out with something entertaining and twisted again soon, don't worry.

Goldie Goes Dancing

Terri Reinhart

I took Emma to the thrift shop so she could look for some nice tops to wear to school. That's all we were going to do. However, Goldie decided to come along and look at clothes, too, and that's always a challenge. I see practical cotton tops to wear with jeans. Goldie sees sparkly shirts with sequins. Once I found a lovely pair of flats made out of dark gray wool. Goldie found a pair of metallic gold oxfords. We compromised and bought both pairs.

The gold shoes are for dancing.

My doctor keeps getting after me to exercise more. I don't blame her, because we all know how exercise can be more beneficial to us folks with Parkinson's than just about anything else. It's been a journey to find just the right kind of exercise I can (and will) do which has a group meeting at a time I can attend. 

I loved the Yoga for Parkinson's and Dance for Parkinson's classes and went to those for a long time. Then my days filled up with being a caregiver and grandma, and the classes had to go. It was good timing as I was ready for a new challenge. That's when I started with the Rocky Mountain Rainbeaus and fell in love with Square Dancing... and fell in love with the Rainbeaus.

One of the first party dances I attended had the theme, "Gaudy is Gorgeous". I found a sweater at a thrift shop which had been spray painted gold. It was perfect... perfectly gaudy. I wore it with my red and white striped pajama pants. One of my fellow dancers, Fritz, christened me, "Goldie Lamé", and Goldie has been a part of me ever since. My alter-ego is quite friendly and mostly harmless - unless I go shopping.

Last weekend, I went dancing. The event was hosted by The Wilde Bunch, our sister club in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and was my very first experience at one of these weekends. The gold shoes came along, too, and was admired by everyone. We danced. And danced. And danced... Friday night, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning were filled with music, dancing, and lots of laughter. We danced to the calls of Bill Eyler, Kris Jensen, Scott Amspoker, and Anne Uebelaker. We did traditional squares, hexagons, and a wonderful, but very challenging kaleidoscope dance. With Scott, we even did some line dancing. Zorba is my new earworm.

My neurologist will be very happy. 

Chris made me promise to pace myself. He didn't want me flat on my back all this week. I think I did fairly well, considering just how much dancing there was. I was in bed by 9 pm every night, not staying till the dancing ended at 10 and not going to play games till midnight. Still, by the end of the party on Sunday evening, my dystonia had started to kick in and it was a struggle to walk to the car. My friends helped me to the car and made sure I got up the stairs and into my room. Then they checked on me in the morning.

(Oh, if any of the other dancers saw me - I wasn't drunk. Really. I even have my certified, "I am not drunk" card in my wallet. No, it's not for sale. My gold shoes aren't either.)

This trip was a gift in so many ways. First of all, it literally was a gift. One person had to change her plans at the last moment and she donated her registration fee so someone else could come. I found out 3 days before we left for Albuquerque that I was going. (Jackie, Kelly, and all, you didn't know it, but that was 2 days after my birthday. What an amazing birthday gift!)

Lately I have experienced and witnessed so many acts of generosity:  A man in our Parkinson's and Dystonia Facebook group hand carves and gives away canes and walking sticks to any member of the group. Wonderbound Dance Company has open rehearsals in their warehouse building studio and invites anyone, including those who are homeless (they are very close to the homeless shelters) to come in, sit on their couches, and watch the rehearsals. An old friend and classmate of mine, Milton, donated one of his handcrafted mandolins to a Colorado band whose instruments were destroyed in a fire. 

At the end of the weekend, the Wilde Bunch donated $100 to the Ralph Lorier fund in our club to help those people who couldn't otherwise afford to dance. Ralph, a much loved member of the Rainbeaus, died from cancer earlier this year. I didn't know him well, but I remember sitting and talking with him one of the last times he came to dance. From what I do know, he lived a life of quiet and constant generosity. 

What an amazing way to start my new year! 

Me dancing and looking like I'm trying to figure out my right from my left. 

Me dancing and looking like I'm trying to figure out my right from my left. 

 

 

 

 

About Dystonia - the best resources I've found

Terri Reinhart

As some of you may remember, my official diagnosis is either Early Onset Parkinson's with dystonia that responds to dopamine or Late Onset Dopamine Responsive Dystonia with Parkinsonisms. Either way, the treatment is the same and they are both progressive neuromuscular disorders. The latter is less progressive than Parkinson's, but it is progressive.

And regardless of the diagnosis, I'm also a part of the Insomnia Club, at least part of the time. This is an exclusive club to which many people with Parkinson's and Dystonia belong and it consists of informal online meetings anywhere between 1 and 5 am. It was during one of these meetings that I found the following articles and news segment about Dystonia.

The first describes a typical dystonic storm and, for those of us who experience this, how to tell the difference between a dystonic storm and just a worsening of symptoms. The author, Tom Seaman, has probably the best blog out there about dystonia. Once I started reading his articles, I had a hard time stopping. 

What Really is a Dystonic Storm

The next one is an unusual story about a woman who was diagnosed with cerebral palsy as a child and lived with that diagnosis for 33 years before learning she had Dopamine Responsive Dystonia. At 33, she finally started taking levodopa. Suddenly she was able to run and play with her children, go on hikes, and drive a car. Jeanne Sharon Abbot has written a book about her experience and maintains another amazing blog about Dystonia. In doing this, she has helped at least 20 other people who had been misdiagnosed as she was. This is why we blog about our experiences.

Woman misdiagnosed for 30 years

and her blog: www.jeanabbott.com.

It's so good to see this information out there. Dealing with Parkinson's is one thing. People understand what it is, to a degree, or at least they've heard of it. While I definitely have Parkinson's symptoms, dystonia has always been my major challenge. It's a lot harder to explain. It's harder enough to explain that I told my neurologist I wasn't interested in having a DAT scan to confirm my PD diagnosis. She understood. She said she only had one other patient whose symptoms were close to mine. With PD, there's a huge community out there. With Dopamine Responsive Dystonia (DRD), I'd be a community of one.

Except between the hours of 1 and 5 am when the Insomnia Club meets.

Oh, and before I go, there's another aspect of Dystonia which I find most frustrating. There is a type of dystonia which is called Functional Dystonia and is considered to be psychogenic. I know this is real and I don't discount it at all, however, in one case I know, a woman was denied her treatment when her doctor decided it was all psychological. As women are diagnosed with dystonia 3 times more frequently than men and, we women know doctors (at least in the past) have been quick to attribute our symptoms to anxiety, depression, and just being female, I just get a little suspicious when I hear about it.

In looking up information about psychogenic dystonia, it seems the docs have gone back and forth between considering all dystonia to be psychogenic or all dystonia to be organic. Now, there's a blur between them and that's all right. I suspect there's some psychogenic and organic elements to nearly all physical challenges. 

Which brings me to another wonderful article by Tom Seaman:

Dystonia and the Highly Sensitive Person

Drafted

Terri Reinhart

It's been difficult to find time to write lately and even more difficult to figure out what to write about. So, I looked through all the drafts of articles I've started and thought perhaps they could inspire me to do something new. Sometimes I come up with a title and nothing else.

Here goes:

Armchair Reactivist: My intentions were good, not just because I wanted to write an article, but because I wanted to be a real political activist and get involved with our city politics. I went door to door gathering signatures on petitions and later, went door to door again to deliver leaflets for our city counselor's election. 

My stamina being not so great, I decided I was better at being an armchair activist, or, when it comes to social media, an Armchair Reactivist. Being a reactivist isn't nearly as productive or useful as being an activist and it has sometimes gotten me into awkward spots. I'm sure there's a lot more I could write on this subject. If I finished, it would be deep and scholarly and point out all the ramifications for our society.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I'll do it Tomorrow:  I decided this was the best title I've ever come up with for an article that has never been written and probably never will be, like the one above. The fact this has also been my mantra for everything over the last six months or so makes it an even more appropriate title. Catchy, isn't it!

It's Enough: This follows the other two. I can't remember exactly what I had in mind here, whether I'd had enough or whether I had to decide what I was doing was enough. It could be either, depending on the day. 

It's back there in the gray matter somewhere. We need to simplify, really simplify and not just give it lip service. This doesn't just pertain to stuff, though there's a lot of stuff needing to go, it's also how we live. My medications, over the years, have either sped me up or slowed me down. Finding a middle ground hasn't been easy, but at least I know now I don't have to try and cram as much living into my days and weeks as I possibly can.  If we go slower, do less, we experience more. And that's enough.

Labels and Identity: This was going to be one of those really important articles which would go viral on the internet and, maybe have 4 or 5 people actually read it. (For me, that's viral) This is something else I've been thinking of a lot. 

When I was in high school, we liked to talk about how we didn't want anyone to label us. Working with children who had disabilities and challenges, labels were often what helped get help for a child. Sometimes a label helped with funding. I'm also involved with our LGBTQ community. They have recently added more labels - LGBTTQQI2SA. This might look awkward and seem a little bit label heavy, but I get it. These labels are helping people understand their unique identity. I wish these labels had been around for friends in my generation.

What I remember from working with child observation is: you can have labels that help free an individual or labels that box them in. The most important label is: This is a unique and uniquely beautiful human being. Know the others, then forget them.

There's so much more on this subject, it needs to be a whole book. Someone else can write it. 

And after all this, I'd undoubtedly summarize all of my thoughts into a wise, but witty ending paragraph, bringing everything together. I'd probably connect these ideas to the experience of chronic health challenges and try to say something inspiring. Instead, I'll just copy and paste and tweet about it.

Tomorrow.  

 

 

 

To cry or not to cry - that is the medication

Terri Reinhart

While Parkinson's disease can take away so many of our abilities, there are other skills it seems to enhance. The ability to cry is one of them. We can cry in any situation, any place, in front of anybody. We can cry while watching comedies or commercials, listening to a lecture on mathematics, or seeing a cute puppy. 

My natural skill in this area was advanced anyway. After my diagnosis, I could have been a superhero, if crying could be considered a super power. Unfortunately, crying has not yet been accepted by the Board of Animated Mutants (BAM), Panel Of Weird Writers (POWW), or even the Board of Associated Super Heroes (BASH). Yes, it remains, to this day, an unappreciated skill at which I am embarrassingly talented. 

Until recently when a change in medication took me from Kwazy Wabbit mode to embracing The Way of the Tortoise. 

There were a few odd things that came along with this medication change: dry mouth, throat, nose, and eyes... and nightmares. I didn't notice all the changes right away. I was moving so much slower and my nervous system had calmed down to where I wasn't reacting so strongly anymore. Little did I know, it had also taken away my one and only superpower. (Okay, that's an exaggeration. I still have my ability to turn into the Human Torch every time I get a hot flash. Yup. They're still hot enough to roast marshmallows.)

Last week, a dear friend of mine died. I was sad, but I didn't cry. I didn't cry when I was told or when I read the obituary. I didn't cry at the memorial, even when they played a song my friend had once sung to me. Usually I feel embarrassed when I cry. On the day of the service, I was horrified! What a terrible friend I must be to not even shed a tear! I pulled out a kleenex and dabbed at my eyes, pretending I was tearing up. There just weren't any tears. 

This upset me enough, I came home and emailed my neurologist, asking if this could possibly be happening because of my new medication (Amantadine). She wrote back, starting with "My, you ask the most interesting questions". After she researched a little, she found this indeed could be an effect of the meds. The timing is right.

I'm not going off the Amantadine, but I'll try to stick with a low dose. Without it, my dystonia can decide to run the show. The Amazing Pretzel Woman is not among the accepted Super Heroes, either. It's weird to know my ability to cry can be changed by a medication. Even if I can't change this, it's good to know there's a reason for this mystery.

And, at least I don't feel like a terrible friend anymore. 

 

 

 

Friends to Look Up To

Terri Reinhart

I wrote this article in 2008 after a visit to these two special friends. Yesterday, I lost my Buddha friend. Mike lived longer than most people do after such a severe accident. Though I hadn't been able to spend much time with him over the last year or so, I am so, so grateful to have known him for awhile. He was a gift to everyone who was lucky enough to be around him.

I'm still working on growing up and still hope I can be like these two wonderful people.

***

Stopping in to see my friend, Carolyn, she greeted me and immediately asked how I was doing. “Bill told me about your Parkinson’s,” she said, “That is so awful. How are you feeling? How is Chris taking this? I can’t believe you drove all the way up here just to see us.” She then asked about our kids and wanted to know all the news. She expressed her concerns for how we were doing financially and said she’d pray that my disability benefits would be approved right away. I responded to Carolyn as I try to respond to everyone. It’s hard to explain, I say, but my Parkinson’s has really been a gift to me as much as anything else. Carolyn got it. She looked at me and said, “I know what you mean. People look at Bill and I and think that our situation is awful. But they don’t know the blessings we have every day.”

The next day I went to see my good friend, Mike. He greeted me with a smile and a hug, made sure I had something to drink, and then we sat and talked. As we were in elementary school together, a lot of our chatting is about “old times”, people and places we knew when we were younger. We both enjoy music and sometimes we sing the old songs together, remembering the Beatles, Herman’s Hermits, Gordon Lightfoot, and others. We talk about movies and laugh about our favorite humorous scenes. More than anything else, we laugh together. While we were visiting that day, Mike turned to me and said, out of the blue, “I am so lucky!” And indeed, he seems happier and more content with his life than most people I know.

I thought about these two friends of mine the other day as I prepared even more paperwork for my disability files and pondered this rather daunting experience of applying for benefits. Mention that you aren’t working and are thinking of applying for disability, and usually you hear instant judgments. Our society seems to want us to feel as though we are cheating somehow if we are not able to be gainfully employed. It took me a long time to feel okay about doing this and it was only after my doctor insisted that I needed to start this process that I actually made my appointment with social security. I certainly wasn’t helped by the lawyer who let me know that he’d “eat his revolver” if anyone told him that he had something like Parkinson’s disease.

Contemplating the possibility of having a progressive illness is scary. I will admit that! But I have learned that even illness comes with its own gifts. It’s not so hard for me to see the gifts of my Parkinson’s. Life is slower. I have more time for people. It’s easy to let go of things that don’t really matter anyway.

And my friends?

Carolyn is paralyzed, a quadriplegic from having polio at age six. She is totally dependent on others for all of her physical care. When I came to see her, she had been confined to bed for over a week because her electric “sip and puff” wheelchair was broken down and the repairman had been delayed. When she is back up and ready to go, I know she’ll again be taking care of the other residents in the apartment complex she lives in. She’ll be ordering groceries for one client and arranging transportation for another. She’ll be up at her table, working on her computer and painting beautiful pictures, holding a paint brush in her mouth. And she’ll be much more concerned about the welfare of others than in her own challenges. Her partner, Bill, also uses a wheelchair, has cerebral palsy and is developmentally disabled. He cooks for Carolyn, manages a small store, and takes care of his garden.

Mike was a fireman and paramedic before an accident left him paralyzed on his right side and with a brain injury. His short term memory is impaired. He cannot sit up unaided and it is hard for him to hold his head up for any length of time. Speaking is difficult and even such things as breathing and swallowing are not to be taken for granted. He, too, is totally dependent on others to care for him. But I have never left his house without feeling like I was the one who was taken care of.

I have seen Caroline go through devastating health crises when she wouldn’t be expected to live through the night. I look at photos of Mike from before the accident and feel that I have suddenly been punched in the stomach. If I could change what happened to them, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I can’t. So, I live with a very particular struggle because, though I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, it is only because of their disabilities that I have had the opportunity to know them now. And I can’t imagine not having them in my life.

When I grow up, I want to be like Mike and Caroline.