Off to see the Wizard

One of those days

It was one of those days when my body turned on me, taking on a life of its own and refusing to follow directions from my brain. I had just had a massage and was getting dressed when my arms refused to reach that extra inch I needed to hook the two ends together behind my back. I tried hooking it in front and then turning it around, but time was not on my side.

Frustrated and angry, I slipped my bra on without hooking it and quickly pulled my tee shirt over it, hoping it would hold the bra in place at least until I walked to my car. Wearing socks seemed insignificant at this point, so rather than struggle to put them on, I stuffed the socks into my purse and jammed my naked feet into my sneakers.

As I exited the room, my therapist asked, “Do you know your shirt is on backwards?”

“Of course I do,” I answered. “It’s a new fashion trend among people with Parkinson’s.” Humor is my weapon of choice in my daily battle with this relentless disease.

On my drive home, I seriously considered changing my GPS destination and heading off down the yellow brick road to see the wizard. I fantasized about convincing the powerful Oz to give me the brain he didn’t give the scarecrow, but I knew this wasn’t going to happen. He was, after all, one of the early charlatans in regenerative medicine.

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