How ironic of me! Because I often ignore what my body is trying to say. In other words, I am deaf to my body. Ugh! This body of mine can be such a pest.

You probably know the old joke: what’s denial? Answer: a river in Egypt. Hahaha. Another response might be: Andi’s approach to her bodily -uh, can we please come up with a better term than changes? How about adjustments? Alterations? Advances? Ooh, I like that one! Sounds like you’re actually improving!

And yet….A rose is still a rose. And fleshly deterioration is still, well, you know.

My body has so many parts to listen to. I am an orchestra of bodily functions. My underactive thyroid might be the string section. Blood pressure is of course the percussionists. Can I get away with making cholesterol the reeds? And of course, holding it all together, the maestro, the conductor of my corporeal symphony is my Parkinson’s.

I think I’ve “milked” this metaphor (uh oh. I’m supposed to avoid dairy) for all it’s worth. Moving right along…

I haven’t given a whole lot of thought to what my life would be like as a two year retiree without a chronic illness till now. I also haven’t dealt with any resentment that seems to be bubbling under the surface. One Parky I know likened her reaction to her diagnosis to Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance. I’m pretty sure I’m arrested at denial.

Early in my diagnosis, I recognized that I tired easily so I announced to anyone who would listen that I would limit my activities to one, maybe two per day. Supermarket followed by lunch out meant no going to the movies that night. I thought this a rare example of my being thoughtful, wise even. It turned out that I was just being my normal heedless self because guess what! My commitment to this new way of living lasted about as long as well, numerous other unkept self-improvement promises I’ve made. Occasionally, my inner Jiminy Cricket admonishes “Uh uh, uh if you run around doing errands all morning, the gas tank will be empty for that anticipated trip to the yarn store later on.” My middle name is crash and burn, which occurs all too often. Honestly, I’m subconsciously living my life as if I had never heard of Parkinson’s. Or at least trying to. I told ya, arrested at denial.

D E N I A L

My brain in denial is the same one that has me imagining the “what ifs,” In one scenario, I have PD and I maintain a retirement more akin to the relaxed one I’d originally envisioned. No blog, no podcast, no running all over creation telling bunches of seniors how I manage my Parkinsonian life.

There’s got to be a reason I created a schedule for myself that resembles the one imposed upon me by my boss at my job!

Inertia is defined as “the tendency of a body in motion to stay in motion and a body at rest to stay at rest.” Well, if ever there were a body in motion, it’s mine. I also have schpilkes, Yiddish for “a state of agitation or anxiety.” Also known as pins and needles. Need another expression? How about “ants in one’s pants.” Yup, those fit me on all counts.

So a typical day now (haha, PD joke; there’s no such thing) starts with the NYTimes word games, which I start when I wake between 6 and 7. Besides the fact that they’re fun, I see them as diagnostic tools that measure my cognitive state. If I don’t reach a certain level in Spelling Bee, it signals that Mr. D (the Dreaded Dementia) is a-knockin’ at my door.

I’d like to rub the magic lamp and gain the ability to distinguish between an ordinary aging deficiency and a more serious Parkinsonian deficit. Then I could stop worrying so much. Or worry more as the case may be.

Too many times to count, I’ve seen age-mates pause mid-sentence, look up at the ceiling as if the missing words will magically appear above, and announce “Damn. I forgot what I was going to say.” Sometimes the desired word does appear, and sometimes it doesn’t. Every time I witness a friend having a word or name retrieval problem, I give a silent little cheer. “Yay! It’s not only me.” I may exult, but there’s no schadenfreude here; of course I wish no cognitive impairments or ill health on anyone.

Still,

In the early days of my retirement, I felt like a science experiment. Add half a pill of the yellow one at 4, then a whole one at eight. Take the blue one right before sleep. I felt like crap in those days, many of which were spent in bed, trying to read and watch tv, enjoying little success with either. When we finally got the meds right, I felt almost like my old self again. And I guess maybe I have moved past denial, because I accept the fact that I will never be exactly the same person I used to be. But I can present myself as a reasonable facsimile of “Me.”

So instead of the volunteer work I’d planned on, the dinner parties featuring dishes that made my guests swoon, the novel about a dysfunctional New England Jewish family I’d already half written in my head, well, I guess my retirement might not have looked that different after all. Truly, I’ve just swapped one set of projects (mediocre novel) for another (blog, podcast, etc).

So, the gulf between my planned and actual retirements isn’t as deep as I’d thought. Remember that inertia thing? I seem to have certain tendencies that define me, like it or not. We all do. I think, after 73 years, I’m starting to accept the constantly-in-motion aspect of myself. It’s just how I roll.

And yet… there’s still room for learning and improvement. Always. For everyone.

Time to work on the podcast. Remember, it’s called Parky Conversations: Shakin’ it up with Andi. Be sure you receive notification of all things podcast by subscribing to my blog. Seriously, it’ll take you about ten seconds. I will be most grateful.

Recommendations:

A beautiful podcast, now in its second season. Wiser than Me with Julia Louis-Dreyfus, in which Julia engagingly interviews senior women, luminaries whose lived experiences provide thoughtful and yes, wise, guidance on becoming the person you were meant to be. I especially enjoyed this season’s opener, with Sally Field.

And another. Elaine Benfield shares inspiring Herstories on the eponymously-named podcast, sharing topics such as divorce, having a gay ex-husband, navigating single parenthood, supporting a Trans child, the experience of launching children into adulthood, the challenges of being a working mom and coping with the complexities of death. Phew! That’s a lot to cover, and Benfield does it with verve.