Tuesday, February 15
Oh, did I sleep so sweetly, all spread out and splayed, arms and legs akimbo, discovering places I could put my body I’ve not explored in two years or more. And I dreamt of friends long-lost and it was such joy to see them again.
Walking leaned towards deliberate, everything else (except for typing) leaned towards spontaneous.
In the evening we went to Blue Bar. Only Antonny the proprietor and our friend and barber, Alessandro, were there, so we settled in for a wide-ranging conversation about movies. Haven’t had such good fun in awhile.
Wednesday, February 16
Everything leans spontaneous today. Alexander lesson was so subtle I found it difficult, but I felt more balanced afterwards, so good. I want to work on the book but typing lags a little behind the rest of my movement. But I am also experiencing a kind of writers’ block; afraid to go forward for fear of painting myself into another corner. In the meantime, my spirits are high, my heart is light, and my body has shucked off a layer or three of oppression. It’s hard to describe, but I feel as if I’d been wrapped in plastic film and suddenly it’s been cut away – or most of it. I’ve not felt this free and joyful in (maybe) decades. And my Italian is smooth and confident despite a constant stream of errors.
Thursday, February 17
Walking fit into the deliberately spontaneous slot, today. The best example of what movement was like rests with the putting in of my hearing aids. Until two or three days ago, just getting them tucked behind my ear was an acrobatic feat; I dreaded doing it. Then that started to change, and today it was as easy as two years ago.
I continue happy and relaxed socially, more so than I have been since I was a kid. I slept a lot today, but easily, without RLS, and without grogginess in between. My voice has been clear for several days, and my arms loose. Typing is better than average.
Friday, February 18
Typing continues to improve, if I don’t watch out I’ll lose my best excuse for not working on the novel. Lots of small actions continue to improve, things I notice during the day that are too difficult or embarrassing to describe in this journal. Walking is improved, too, but still awkward, and that sets up a tension between my body’s craving the exercise and my legs not being up to it. Arms are loose. And I am happy, speaking well and freely, reveling in company as it presents itself, glad to be alone when it doesn’t.
The evening walk was a strange hybrid of elegant spontaneity (relatively speaking) and trodding deliberateness. I am, however, getting in and out of chairs with such (relative) ease that I do so unnecessarily for the fun of it.
I had a chance to pet the adorable little black dog at the tobacco store in Via del Duomo. Made my day.
Saturday, February 19
Today feels mixed. Walking was definitely in the deliberate side of things. Dexterity leans largely spontaneous. Hands are covered with pins and needles. Getting in and out of chairs is much better than it was two or three weeks ago, but harder than it was mid-week – or yesterday. Typing is better than it has been in awhile, but still wouldn’t win any stenographic awards. I want to walk briskly up a hill but know it is not possible. I want to work on the novel but am weighed down by lassitude and self-doubt, maybe a soupcon of brain fog.
The actual walking this evening was unremarkable, but the town had gone from empty last night to an explosion of energy tonight as families took to the streets to celebrate Carnevale ten days early. My favorite costume was a dinosaur in a stroller, sound asleep. The celebrations begin a week or two after New Year, the confetti thickening as the actual day grows closer. It’s Italy, where Carnevale is at least as long as Lent – as it should be.
Sunday, February 20
This morning Natasha wheeled me to Piazza Gonzaga and we walked to San Giovenale and back. Deliberately. Slowly. But without undue strain. This puts walking almost to where it was before I fell, except that today I didn’t shuffle and posture was pretty good.
Then we wheeled to Torre del Moro, listened to a couple of street musicians, admired the ways people were dressed, interacted with little children. I watched a toddler’s fascination with the music; his wobbly approach and unplanned sit that drew a protective jerk from his mother until she saw that he was not bothered by his sudden change of elevation.
I thought about the novel without advancing it in any way.
What works in the morning, works at night – repeat the walk.
Monday, February 21
This from an earlier email by Janice (The Parkinson’s Recovery Project) describes the first part of the day perfectly:
“you are recovering. isn’t it glorious? and yes, it can be slow, and seemingly unpredictable, and frustrating at times. but it’s actually very predictable, if only you could see what is going on in your brain. anyone who has raised a child will be able to compare this to the baby who magically does a new motor skill one day, and does it beautifully. the next day he does it very poorly. and then he doesn’t even try for a week or two or three. and after that, he owns it and never loses it. and in the meantimes, he sleeps more than usual and is cranky and emotional.”
And so followed the evening.