Tuesday, October 26
I had an appointment with a speech therapist this morning because a couple of months ago there were problems with my voice – another victim of the hospital stay. This week I found that I can sing again, so I wondered what was the point. But the dottoressa who saw me was very nice, she spoke clearly, and I had a great time. She could detect nothing bad about my voice but asked me back next week to meet a colleague. It costs nothing so why not?
Consequently, we started our morning walk rather late, and my left ankle was very sore, so it was basically a scratch; first one in almost three months.
Afternoon was wasted trying to get a DIV-1099. The website ran me around in circles, and other things left me feeling like I’d been immersed in an episode of The Twilight Zone. That made me tired and cranky like a baby in an old diaper.
Tonight’s walk was 95% feline.
Wednesday, October 27
This morning’s walk was 90% feline with cats actually present (and playfully romping) in the piazza. The 10% of shuffling was due mainly to my craning my neck to see what they were up to, so you could say the walk was 100% and not be stretching it too much.
On the other hand, any self-respecting cat would be embarrassed to be associated with the way I shuffle around the apartment. That contrast in movement has been going on for years. A therapist I talk to long distance suggested it is a manifestation of self-imposed perception of being restrained in some way. He may be right.
I meditated just now, and my state switched several times between shaking (both arms, neck, and torso) and profound calm. My intuitive self tells me that the shaking is a discharge of static energy or electricity. I don’t know if that makes sense in terms of Asian medicine. I’ve also often had similar shaking during the night when sleeping. I usually shake lightly, and can suppress it. When I let it go it turns violent for awhile, then will suddenly stop and be followed by calm. The whole cycle seems to last a minute or two.
Evening walk, fifty-fifty, and without the excuse of having cats to watch.
Typing has been random all day.
After shiatsu, I always feel more relaxed. Right after shiatsu today, my legs were jelly, which may account for the sloppy walk.
Thursday, October 28
After Roman massages my feet and legs in the morning, he lets me rest (the massage being so strenuous for me!) for a few minutes. I usually just lie there and wish we could move on to the next thing on the morning to do list, but today I drifted into a state more relaxed than I have enjoyed in a long, long time. The same thing happed an hour or so later while we waited our turn at a very busy post office, and again at home after our walk. I could get used to that. By the way, I also slept an extremely pleasant eight hours.
My left ankle was very sore at the start of our pacing the sagrato but it loosened up after around six laps and the remaining four laps were not shameful at all.
When I came out of meditation this afternoon, I went through the shaking cycle described yesterday, then descended into feeling profoundly uncomfortable for an hour or more. Susan came over and good company helped, and by the time we were preparing for the evening walk, I felt pretty good.
The walk was all over the place. Left ankle was sore again, only it didn’t loosen up. At lap two all the cats came scampering out. At lap four they all went back inside – I suspect food was involved.
Friday, October 29
Logged eight hours sleep again with only one brief wakeful period that I can remember, and woke feeling very relaxed. Perhaps I am very limp, because walking was difficult when we arrived at the sagrato. That was partly due to a painful left ankle again, something that I didn’t even notice at home. Combine that with limpness, we only did six slow laps before throwing in the towel. But I have to also say that at various times preparing for the walk, I felt like nothing was symptomatic aside from the walk. At this moment, I would add a few things (typing is sloppy the way it is when I’m limp), but overall I feel good – if I don’t have to move around, and even then the mobility issues don’t affect my spirit.
Both post-walk nap and afternoon meditation were very satisfying, and neither left me uncomfortable.
Evening walk was the same, if marginally better than the morning.
By the way, music is often affecting me in energy centers (chakra, if you prefer). That can’t be a bad thing.
Saturday, October 30
Again, sleep was wonderful.
Again, left ankle was sore, but limpness was less pronounced so we were able to put in six laps; the ankle loosened up after three laps and started hurting again at five and a half.
Again, I feel better in all other ways (though I can’t give typing as high a score as other things).
I napped for two hours (in 23 minute chunks) after an hour of afternoon meditation. The sleep was sweet beyond compare, and I only woke when Natalia arrived. As usual my arms shook after waking, but as Natalia put things in order in the kitchen, I played with a state between waking and sleep in which there were no PD symptoms but I was conscious of my environment.
We went out shortly after. The town is full of people tonight, and I felt on top of the world. The left ankle still hurt when we walked, but a little less so. We put in seven laps and decided to quit before the ankle started to hurt again.
Sunday, October 31
I paid for yesterday’s naps in trying to get to sleep last night. I eventually did, and slept soundly, but it took all morning to wake up. After five painful laps on the sagrato, we wheeled home and I napped for a half hour until my legs got twitchy and restless. Yesterday’s euphoria seemed like a dream all morning. The town was full, and I enjoyed watching people walk and interact, but from a reserved distance. Friends didn’t see me, and that was fine. A few said hello, but I was barely able to respond. I felt invisible.
Legs are, at the same time, stronger than usual and extremely limp. That, plus ankle pain, makes for a very odd walking experience.
I managed to limit afternoon naps to one short one before lunch, which bodes better for a regular night’s sleep. Then I joined a group on Zoom of persons with PD who are following the Recovery Project’s protocol, which was an uplifting experience.
Natalia arrived with news that the city was packed with people, far too many to afford a wheelchair journey to the Duomo, so we opted instead for the almost-flat, smoothly paved Piazza Gonzago nearby. Again, the left ankle hurt enough to disrupt the perfection of my walk. And I yearned to see the town abustling, but it was not to be.
Monday, November 1
This is not a place of black umbrellas.
It is raining lightly this morning, but we headed for the Duomo just the same. My legs feel strong, but the left ankle hurts badly when I walk, so after three laps we called it a day. But what a day is was!
Remember the angel of a couple of weeks ago? A woman of about my age who lives across the piazza from the Duomo who congratulated us on our persistent exercise program? Later she told us that her husband has trouble walking but refuses to go out. A few days after that we saw them walking together in the piazza. Exuberant waves were exchanged. This morning, she threw open her windows and shouted her greetings. Minutes later, her husband joined her and we all saluted each other as if were siblings reunited after a long separation.
There was a funeral at the Duomo just ending. Flowers spilled out the side door near to us, a river of color sprinkled by the rain. From the main door another river of color was created by those mourning their loss and celebrating their memories as they unfurled umbrellas. It was the third act of Our Town without the shades of puritanism. It was la nostra città. Visitors filled the piazza, mostly Italians celebrating All Saints Day. They, too, opened their umbrellas to add to the spectacle.
Everywhere blossoms vibrated with color, as did children dressed in their best after last night’s costumes.
We took brief shelter under a tarp in front of a shop selling postcards. The proprietor treated us like old friends, moving his outdoor furniture to afford us maximum protection from the increasing rain. When the rain subsided, Roman suggested we go to the caffe in Piazza del Popolo. There we sat near a cocker spaniel whose bobbed tail never stopped wagging even though his humans were deep in conversation and the piazza was empty of other dogs.
Sometimes life is so beautiful as to be almost unbearable.
Tonight the rain was a bit heavier, so we walked the parking garage under the palazzo next door. I did a significant part of that on my own; my feet were mostly noisy, but we were both of us ecstatic.