Month: June 2022

Tuesday, June 21

I went to bed around midnight and, faced with a sensation of balancing on the edge of a crater (which, with this mattress is accurate) was up at 03:30. No surprise, really, as I slept so much yesterday, and all of it sweet beyond description.

My dream before I woke yesterday morning was interesting. I have a recurring dream of having forgotten to check out of a hotel and not discovering it until the bill has become astronomically high. Yesterday’s variation was that I had checked myself in to take a nap, and when I finally found someone to pay for the privilege, they wouldn’t take my money. Oooo! What does it all mean?

I returned to the lunar landscape of my mattress at around 04:30 and slept like a baby for five hours.

We walked the sagrato with difficulty, however around the house there were lots of little things that were easier today than yesterday: shifting weight, adjust feet positions, initiating movement. Friend reminds me that our connection is as real as we make it, in the way that many of us talk with deceased loved ones, but that I must try to commune with love and joy rather than as a means of activating the striatum.

The discomfort gauge is on the high side, today, not terrible but just enough to make me weary when I wish for a quick resolution. Janice frequently says that recovery is hard for most people, but the hundreds that she has seen recover affirm that the difficulty is easily worth it. Hang in there.

Wednesday, June 22

Today is a clear example of the difference between a good mood and an open heart. A mood can be mental and can disguise a frightened heart. An open heart is a way of being. A breeze through the heart can be the harbinger of recovery, a good mood is much less likely to be so. Today I woke with an breezy heart which also happened to spawn a good mood. The heart has given me a genuinely happy day and the confidence in recovery that determines itself. This is not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time I have noticed how this state is distinct from mood.

I slept soundly and happily again last night and napped in the same manner this afternoon.

Thursday, June 23

I slept nine hours without getting up, and could hardly wait to get home after the morning walk so I could nap. I napped most of the afternoon.

I’ve had some insights as to what is going on in my brain, but before I attempt to put them into words, here is some excerpted text from Stuck on Pause by Janice Hadlock. I hope this will help what I am trying to say be more available to those who have not read any of the Parkinson’s Recovery Project’s literature.

“A neurological mode is a specific combination of certain motor (muscle movement) behaviors, stomach, intestinal, and digestive behaviors, neurotransmitter releases or release-inhibitions in the body and/or the brain, and highly specific mental behaviors. The physiological conditions of a living system have ever-changing physical and/or emotional needs that can vary from one second to the next. They are reflected in the ever-changing ratio of one neurological mode’s usage amount relative to another’s.

“Western medicine only recognizes two modes: parasympathetic and sympathetic. Parasympathetic mode activates the physical and mental behaviors of playful curiosity and healthy digestion. (This is a gross oversimplification, but gives us a starting point.) This mode activates the release of dopamine in specific areas of the mid-brain. Dopamine is a neuron (brain cell) stimulator (neurotransmitter), used in various parts of the brain for various purposes. In parasympathetic mode, dopamine is released from the brain’s substantia nigra, in response to instructions from the nearby striatum. The substantia nigra and striatum are both located along the midline of the brain, in very nearly the exact center of the brain. The striatum can signal for release of midbrain dopamine for motor function in anticipation of playful, joyful, unself-conscious mood and movement.

“Dopamine has many functions in the brain. In the mid-brain, dopamine is the ‘feel good’ and ‘effortless movement’ neurotransmitter. However, on the sides of the brain, dopamine is the neurotransmitter for anxiety, wariness, and risk assessment. Healthy people, when awake, are always using a blend of parasympathetic mode and sympathetic mode. When use of parasympathetic mode decreases, dopamine release for midbrain-directed motor function decreases. If one is awake and moving more into sympathetic mode or lurching into pause mode – moving away from parasympathetic mode – one might have an increase in dopamine release in areas on the sides of the brain. Again, dopamine in these areas can activate negative-mood responses, such as anxiety, wariness, or risk assessment. In people on pause, midbrain dopamine release for movement and feeling good is severely inhibited. In people on pause, dopamine release on the sides of the brain for risk assessment is greatly increased. (see footnote)

“Muscles can be activated using either parasympathetic mode’s mid-brain, striatal dopamine system or via the brain chemistry of sympathetic mode. Sympathetic mode powers the “fight or flight” response. To the degree that use of sympathetic mode is increased, adrenaline release is increased and the striatum’s midbrain instruction for dopamine release for carefree muscle movement is correspondingly decreased. Other brain molecules also play a part in sympathetic mode, but I’m keeping it simple.

“Almost all people, when they are awake, are using a blend of these two modes: parasympathetic and sympathetic. The more content a person is, the more he is using parasympathetic mode for movement, thoughts, and sensory awareness. The more stressed he is, the more he is using the sympathetic mode chemistries for movement, thought, and sensory assessment. Again, nearly all people, when awake, are always using a blend of the two modes: a blend of drivers for motor function, a blend of thoughts, and a blend of types of sensory awareness and assessments. For example, a person driving a car while eating is using the alert intensity of sympathetic mode and the digestive behaviors of parasympathetic mode.

“Chinese medicine, for more than a thousand years, has recognized that there are four neurological modes. The third mode, sleep, allows us to lose consciousness and become fairly motionless. In this mode, dopamine release in the brain and adrenaline release from the adrenal glands are both highly inhibited.

“The fourth mode, pause mode, allows us to be somewhat physically and emotionally numb in response to a life-threatening injury or trauma. In this mode, the release of both dopamine (in the brain area for motor function) and adrenaline from the adrenal gland is inhibited. Dopamine release for risk assessment is increased. If motor function is necessary in spite of the body being dangerously damaged, the brain can release norepinephrine, another neurotransmitter (known as noradrenaline, in the UK). Norepinephrine makes possible emergency use of hyper-powerful motor function. This type of motor function is not spontaneous and flowing from the imagination, like that driven by dopamine. Instead, norepinephrine drives super-powerful motor function in response to mind- or instinct-based commands.”

Footnote, June 23

“Personality traits and brain dopaminergic function in Parkinson’s disease”; Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA 98:13272-7; Valtteri Kaasinen, MD, PhD et al; 2001.

“This 2001 study describes the utterly unexpected discovery that people with idiopathic Parkinson’s disease (PD), which is a manifestation of pause mode, have elevated levels of dopamine activity in the brain’s anterior cingulate area, an area that is involved in risk assessment.

“Since the 1970s, Parkinson’s disease researchers assumed that dopamine levels in the brains of people with Parkinson’s should be pathologically low across the brain’s board. This wrong conclusion grew out of the observations that people with PD had increased motor function when they were given brain-swamping levels of dopamine-elevating drugs. It turns out, people with PD have more than enough dopamine – but their brain’s release of dopamine for motor function is inhibited because they are stuck on pause mode. Even though dopamine release for motor function is inhibited while on pause, dopamine release in some other brain areas is increased. For example, in people with Parkinson’s, their dopamine levels in the risk assessment area of their brains are at higher levels than is seen in healthy people, while dopamine levels in their midbrain for motor function are lower than normal or very nearly turned off.” 

Friday, June 24

I slept through from midnight to 10:00 with only an hour break at 03:00, all of it blissfully sweet.

Last night, as I often do, I asked Friend if I am stuck on pause mode, and received a typical “no”. I then asked if I used pause mode as a way of dealing with emotional stress, and as usual received another “no”. Then I changed the question to ask if I go in and out of pause as a habit, like one would with substance abuse, and was given a “yes”. 

In her writing, Janice discusses how what begins as discomfort can expand to a dark mood, that flips the experience into symptom-rich pause. She also says… (this is strange and has happened before, but the next thought formed and as I try to give it words, it remains stubbornly inexpressible. It’s as if the thought were locked away and some element of my personality steals the key just as I place it in the lock. Trying again…) She also says that the brain channels we use most regularly are those most likely to attract us, that if I regularly go in and out of pause, that habit will override the open heart if I let it. That’s still not quite what I need to say, but will have to do for now. Either way, my fate is in my own hands. Whether or not I am symptomatic is a function of choice. That is enormously hopeful but also gives rise to a visceral fear. I can exit this cycle if I am strong, but what if I am not? And there is the switch right there – fear opens the way to pause.

Saturday, June 25

Janice has personally told me many times and has written it in her books; the symptomatic habits (mind grooves) don’t go away, we just choose, minute to minute to open the heart fearlessly and create new symptom-free habits. It finally makes sense. That is what I have been trying to put into words. Simple. But it takes awareness, focus, and persistence. 

I applied this principle to walking this evening; adoring Natalia’s tough love instructions, relaxing the wariness and fear, and gradually my gait improved. It’s that, only all the time, repeatedly, and with everything.

Sunday, June 26

I feel I’m moving slowly today, not because it is a symptom, but because I don’t want to break the delicate thread that runs through my heart. I’ve been looking at everything backwards. Those days when I feel an inner clarity I’ve been viewing as a bonus to symptomatic recovery. In fact, the inner clarity is the point, not necessarily the number of laps I manage to do. Carrying that clarity is a relatively simple adjustment, and is the way of recovery, but it takes constant monitoring and great care in not letting symptoms distract or infuriate. It also means dropping impatience and fear.

Walked well, slept well.

Monday, June 27

Recovery! Hello, I’m David, and I am addicted to pause mode. Recovery. I get it. Finally.

Today the heart connection was like a wavering candle. Walking was okay, all unassisted but a bit heavy. Sleep was good but insufficient. Typing, above average. The new mattress arrived today. Roman found a tag on the one I bought two years ago that showed a manufacture date in 2002. Mattress technology has improved since then.

Tuesday, June 14

I slept an hour or so, woke and was awake until 07:00, hassling temperatures and trying to find a comfortable position. Janice puzzled that I seem to be avoiding recovery.

So, I asked Friend why I’m afraid to recover and got a rather long and indirect answer. This is the short version, from his point of view: “You (me) deserve to recover, your work deserves to be produced and shared and published, you still have much to do. But it’s not all about you. You want to thank your friends who offer so much support, there is no thanks better than recovery. And recovery is to admit that you can do nothing by yourself, everything is about the web.” (The bit about my work is a response to a mental habit I have of thinking that I’m too old to hang my hat on a professional peg; the same mental habit I was deflated by at the age of 25, 32, 44, 51, and 65. Probably other years, too.)

The day that followed was marked by difficulty walking, rising, sitting, and typing. I remained in a good mood throughout, but enjoyed little comfort. A short nap before lunch was delicious, but otherwise attempts were soon greeted by restless leg syndrome and trembling each time I traded deep snooze for something lighter. Friend says it is all about the brain looking for balance.

Wednesday, June 15

Another night like last, very little sleep, pacing the hall for long periods, hassling temperature, little comfort. Lots of swearing. However, walking, turning, and rising were all improved during my relentless pacing.

This morning’s was the worst session walking the garage ever (or at least for a long time). An hour nap in the recliner left me shaky, frozen, and with something resembling nausea. Chest tight, mouth twitchy, feeling awful, and for the first time afraid to be alone. Friend says it’s brain recalibration. Have never felt worse that I can remember.

Then Monika arrived to give me a lesson in Alexander Technique, and bit by bit we deconstructed the mental habits and physical locks that were making me miserable. And I realized that I resist help and treatment, that I cheer for the bad guys. That I relish every imagined “proof” that the disease is getting worse and is rendering me disabled.

I’ve suspected this for awhile now, but today’s lesson gave me the real proof that the official propaganda of “degenerative” and “incurable” is the first mental habit to release – and the most insidiously clinging – that those of us in recovery have to face. And this is all somehow woven together with my father’s PD in that since he suffered who am I to do otherwise? So each notion of worsening symptoms is embraced as a demonstration of my love; that I am willing to suffer as he did, and that even as in so many other ways I may have disappointed him, in this we can exercise solidarity.

Monika (and Janice) also advise embracing rather than resisting how I feel, accepting it as a way of remaining in the present, which is the only place that healing can happen.

Then I took a fifty minute nap in the recliner and woke feeling mentally clear but physically awful; nothing new, the same stuff as earlier, just without the anger. For now.

Thursday, June 16

Got to bed around midnight, slept until 03:30, then spend a sleepy 90 minutes opening windows to create a draft and waiting for the temperature to fall (for some reason the a/c stopped being effective). Thereafter, I remember being aware of Roman in the room, but had no awareness of his trying to wake me. He later told me that he tried five or six times but I would just roll over and continue sleeping. He finally decided that I must have needed the extra sleep and let me be.

I woke some hours later and tried to roll over to look at the clock. I couldn’t do it. I called for Roman. No response. After struggling for awhile I got up on all fours and managed to sit on the edge of the bed, but it was a heart pounding, sweat inducing workout. After a few minutes I was able to rise and walk to the bathroom. Then I called Roman on the phone who had taken advantage of my unconsciousness to run an errand. It was only then that I noticed the clock; a few minutes shy of noon!

Roman was right not to wake me, I had become dangerously tired. But after breakfast (at noon) and a wash and change of clothes, I napped in the recliner for almost an hour.

It is tempting to indulge in a freakout. Friend is constantly warning against it. The brain, he says, wants to maintain the status quo, and is overreacting in its efforts. I tried to do the habit-changing exercises that Janice recommends in Stuck on Pause, but fell a bit short. The habit I want changed is pushing away love (or you could call it “undermining my every effort”) from the false assumption that love (or success) is not safe. Love is the only safe thing there is. If the brain craves safety, and it does, there is no safer refuge than in the heart. I’ll keep trying. 

I paced the hall a bunch, had lunch and finished watching a movie. 

By mid-afternoon, I was uncomfortable everywhere, and continued to feel bad regardless of my state of mind, though not falling into fear made it all more bearable.

My former neighbors threw a party for me in my former garden. Roman helped organize it, Renzo made sure everyone showed and made a fig and walnut crostata. An amazing number of plants managed to survive the summer of 2019 when I was forced to abandon the garden, and Lavinia, who lives there now, has done wonderful things. It was so good to see everyone. The street won awards for most beautiful, as it always does, and always deserves.

Walking, standing, sitting continues to be difficult, which makes me both angry and sad.

Friday, June 16

I blew up yesterday, frustrated with my physical state, and Roman happened to be there. “There is no utility in anger,” he warned. He’s right. Acceptance is an important part of healing and anger arises from denial.

I slept three and a half hours in bed last night, followed by 90 minutes pacing, one hour in the recliner, another hour pacing, and an hour in the recliner. The shaking as I’m waking phenomenon has spread to shaking for many minutes after I get up (even my tongue and lips vibrate), and RLS didn’t leave me much peace in the recliner. In less than a week, I’ve gone from being on the verge of sprinting to rapidly increasing poverty of movement. Friend quotes the Parkinson’s Recovery pioneers (“I don’t know what’s going on but it sure ain’t Parkinson’s”) because, unlike PD, the symptoms change constantly, and I hope he’s right.

I napped quite a lot in the recliner and paced quite a lot in between. Muscles are weird and tight. Walking the sagrato was a complete shambles, a flashback to almost a year ago just after two weeks in hospital for broken ribs – only no hospital, ribs, or atrophied muscles.

The evening walk on the sagrato was much better, and despite my naps, it wore me out. A light supper of mozzarella and tomato triggered a ten minute episode of sneezing and nose blowing. I have no idea why. I feel lighter tonight than I have felt in awhile, and while current symptoms continue to branch into interesting varieties, my relationship with Friend becomes more constant and that keeps me happy. Tonight is Corteo delle Dame which I am sorry to miss. Next year.

Saturday, June 18

I went to bed at midnight, slept well for an hour and a half, then felt the need to get up. Like on Thursday, I could barely claw my way out of bed, gasping and shaking. Once up, I asked Friend what to do (we’ve become especially close last few days) and he answered, pace until you feel grounded. I found walking (and typing) to be relatively easy, so I paced for two and a half hours, going to bed at four, figuring that would put me close to Roman’s arrival at eight in case of a repeat. I slept for another 90 minutes, needed to get out of bed and repeated the whole thing over except for the pacing. I admit, I am frightened. The recliner gives rise to RLS, and the bed traps me, I don’t know how I will sleep.

Well, I took several pleasant naps during the course of the late morning and early afternoon, and Roman took me to order a new mattress. So steps have been taken.

Sunday, June 19

This morning around three, I suddenly woke and bounded out of bed. I sat on the far edge from where I had slept, half conscious, and convinced for a half hour or more that I was waiting for someone to arrive before I returned to sleep. To my knowledge no one ever did, and I eventually crawled back to my spot and fell into an instant slumber. Natalia woke me about five hours later. I was groggy and not ready to get up even after eight hours, but she convinced me that we needed to be outdoors before the heat arrived, so I acquiesced. Once up, I noticed that I felt great even though I could hardly walk.

We went first to the garage where I proved that I could hardly walk. That effort was quickly abandoned, and Natalia wheeled me into town. Perhaps she had told me of her plan – I thought we were just going for a spremuta (fresh orange juice) – but after the juice we continued to snoop around for places in the shade, and I realized that she was setting us up for Corteo Storico, the male costume parade in celebration of Corpus Domini. We found a spot across from Montanucci, and parked the chair.

For the next hour we watched a modern corteo pass on the street, featuring costumes of a daily sort, many of them quite beautiful. Then the drums and trumpets sounded, and shortly thereafter began another hour of men in doublet and hose carrying weapons and flags representing Orvieto as it was in about 1265. It’s beautifully done, but I prefer Corteo delle Dame, honoring women of the same period. By the end of the parade I was massively uncomfortable and nodding off. But it was lovely of Natalia to have taken me there.

The afternoon was spent napping and pacing the hall. 

Last night I spoke with Ted, a member of the PD Recovery support group who lives outside of Amsterdam. We have been leading parallel lives with regard to recovery; a day of rather startling fluidity followed by several days of better than usual movement, then profound limpness (jello legs, hardly able to walk). We both were thrilled by the former and freaked by the latter, and trading notes was a great help.

This afternoon was marked by several short naps, and with hall pacings in between.

Monday, June 20

I slept nine hours last night with only one short break in the middle. Then I fell asleep waiting for the dentist, in his chair, and right after lunch. After checking messages, I napped more. Our only walk today was an evening on the sagrato, and while it won no prizes, it wasn’t bad.

The lesson for the week is to do the best I can with what I have at the moment, not to frustrate myself by trying to replicate yesterday’s successes.

Giuseppe, my dentist, shook my hand after his work, and held it and squeezed it, and so did two other friends on our way home. I love it here.

Tuesday, June 7

The discomfort underlying the poverty of movement is back, though more lightly than before. This morning’s walk was pretty solid until the sagrato was swamped with about sixty eight-year olds. They were lovely kids, but I don’t take to that much random movement.

But here’s the thing; I feel lousy today, and when I feel this bad, it’s because typical PD symptoms are worse. Difficulty initiating movement, changing direction, finding my mouth when drinking from a glass, tilting my head back, walking in a controlled manner, maintaining posture, so forth. I’ve had episodes when one or more of these seems to be better, but the improvements don’t seem to last.

I ask Friend about Pause quite often, he assures me I am not stuck. Today he pointed to my fall ten months ago. I went into Pause when I fell and felt neither pain nor panic, shook violently in the ambulance, and was – according to Friend – out of Pause by the time I reached the ER. He tells me I’ve not used it since, but have used sympathetic mode for emotional upsets.

Maybe this is Blocker behavior, but when I feel like I have these past couple of days, I wonder if I’m just making stuff up according to what is expected for Recovery.

However, I just found this quote by random search from Janice Hadlock’s book, Recovering from Parkinson’s:

“Recovery symptoms are not a straight line. But to the extent that there is some degree of predictability, one can assume that return of fully normal motor function might be one of the very last things that occur during recovery. What might occur prior to a return of healthy motor function is resumption of nerve sensitivity, spastic, infantile motor function, back pain, heightened sensitivity in nerves that go to the bladder, exhaustion, and very often, an overwhelming, new sensitivity to heart feelings, and so much more.”

Wednesday, June 8

Although sleep was interrupted for two hours by temperature issues, I woke feeling rested and strong. So much so, that on the way out an hour later I felt prompted to report that my legs were much better this morning. No sooner had I said that than my steps turned awkward and I began to shuffle. We did a short walk in the garage so I could save energy for an Alexander lesson at noon, and while there have been worse, none of it lived up to the promise of those morning steps at home.

I slept deliciously well after the lesson, but post nap typing was a cruel joke.

We had a fabulous passeggiata. Walking was not great, but I ran into lots of friends I’d not seen in months.

Janice says I may be resisting Recovery. I think she may be right. Friend says my dreams of Santa Cruz are related to wanting to travel again rather anything therapeutic. I think he may be right. 

Thursday, June 9

Sleep interrupted again by temperature and fresh air issues. That I was stunned probably contributed to an awkward morning walk in the garage. A nap made things worse, so I took another nap after lunch and woke barely able to move, but otherwise quite happy.

The rest of the day was a blur of mixed signals.

There was one ahah! moment during the evening walk. I’ve been trying to force the striatum to wake up, when it really is a matter of letting go

Friday, June 10

I slept well until 04:30 then not again. The nightclothes I have are either too thin or too heavy for the 23 degree internal temperature, plus I was energized until about 07:30 at which point it was useless to try again for sleep. But something good happened overnight. Everything this morning was easier, more fluid, not by a little, by a lot. We walked the garage, and I went solo on the first lap, a breeze flowing through my heart. And this after two weeks of very difficult movement. I felt so lacking in fear that I almost wept.

Then after being home, napping (much needed) and so forth, I felt the heart return to “normal” and getting around the apartment lacked this morning’s several hours of surety, so I don’t know what to expect this evening.

Waiting for the evening walk, I became restless again, as I felt this morning; an eagerness to move. But, the evening walk, while better than it has been these past weeks, lacked the heart/pericardium energy that was so present this morning, which seems to have arrived on its own, and I don’t know how to call it back. Regardless, it is a good sign and presumably will happen again.

Saturday, June 11

I spent a large chunk of time last night (from about 03:00 to about 06:00) trying to find a comfortable position for sleep, only to rediscover that if I simply threw myself onto the bed in whatever position I landed that I was asleep in minutes. So by the time Roman woke me I had had about six and a half hours, total, a respectable rest in my world. But I kept falling asleep, eyes open and in the midst of activity as if I had just finished a twenty-hour journey from New York. So, after getting ready for a walk, we agreed that it would be better for me to sleep, and I did. In the recliner for two hours, then lunch and an hour more. Interesting though, I felt good the whole morning, I just couldn’t move. And I had flashes of heart energy that did not give rise to mobility, but were powerful just the same.

The evening walk in the garage was better than I expected it to be. I had what may have been an insight, however; the heart energy that took me over the top yesterday morning was pure unattached love. Love for creatures and place is great and important, but the breeze moving through my heart is what will cleanse me and make me well, and that knows no object.

Sunday, June 12

A good morning walk in the garage. Then Natalia wheeled me into town to look at the hundred or so vintage Fiat 500’s gathered in Piazza del Duomo. All that and the lulling effects of wheels on cobblestones meant that I could not nap soon enough once home. And except for the actual sleeping, I’m very uncomfortable today. Last night I woke at 03:10 feeling like my body weighed a ton. I got up walked a bit, including a series of quick meditations, went back to bed and slept well for five hours, feeling light and relatively normal when I turned over, only to return to lead once on my feet. It’s often like that. I don’t know why.

This afternoon the city joined Museo Claudio Faina to offer the Ukrainian community a free guided tour followed by a lecture and a fabulous finger food buffet provided by Bar Montanucci. I was invited too, wearing the traditional Ukrainian shirt Roman gave me for Christmas as a disguise. Everyone was so kind.

I came home to a message from Ted of the Parkinson’s recovery support group reporting that on Friday he had several hours of freedom from symptoms, and enjoyed more fluidity of movement than he has had for a long time. Rejoice!

Monday, June 13

It was a good walk on the sagrato this morning. Then I took a recliner nap after lunch. When I wake on my own I tremble, full-body now, for about thirty seconds. Waking from a nap is seldom a clean break with sleep, so it is a series of trembles – rather tiresome. And afterwards I feel utterly helpless; walking is hard, typing very unpleasant. Today it took about an hour to claw my way back to semi-comfortable.

The evening walk was a struggle, but there were two or three laps (of seven) that hit upon something worthwhile.

I want to let go of this tension… call that surrender, opening the heart, taking off the rotting jacket, dropping the old habit, or what you will… it’s what I need to do.

Wednesday, June 1

A few of our favorite cats were let roam the piazza this morning – always a treat. The one we call Il Sindaco (the mayor) put in an appearance for the first time in weeks. Rumor is that he has been on a much-needed vacation at Lago di Bolsena. This has not been independently confirmed.

My walking was okay, quite a bit of it on was my own. An Alexander lesson followed. The big discovery there was that after having attained a nicely relaxed state, all the tension will reappear after a few words spoken aloud.

Our evening on the sagrato was accompanied by what seemed like a girls’ gymnastics team; ten year olds doing cartwheels, and handstands, and backbends. I, on the sagrato’s other end, tried semi-successfully to walk on my own with a minimum of scraping shoe sounds.

I’m tired of my routine, tonight. It’s about 20:30 which means a movie plus an episode of “Rita” (“Rita” is a Danish series set in a public school. Almost everyone is so blonde it hurts, but the writing and acting are good.) Most of the movies (previously unknown to me) have been good, too, but when they are not, they are horrible. Fortunately, I’ve learned to spot the bad ones pretty quickly. But what I really want to do is to join friends for an aperativo, followed by a light dinner and a concert. Then to round things off with a slow stroll home at midnight. This evening I feel like that will never happen again, and it makes me sad. I need an events buddy who can mobility assist at least once a week.

Thursday, June 2

Today was a holiday honoring Italy’s decision to drop the monarchy and become a republic, and Orvieto was filled with visitors, even on the quiet side of the Duomo’s sagrato. It was also the first day that I noticed the Piazza’s strong and summery evening wind. For most of my walk these elements were threatening distractions. Then the next to the last of I don’t know how many laps (quite a few) something shifted internally and I found a fearlessness and strength that I had previously tried to fake, made real. The change was subtle, but the gait became quiet and the stride became long, and my arms began to swing. The remaining lap was difficult because the many laps we did had made my legs tired, but I know now what to aim for.

Friday, June 3

I emphasize walking and typing in these reports because that is what I miss most, but there are many other interior changes going on that may be more important. For example, I am less impatient, less self-absorbed, less arrogant, and more generous with my appreciation. I am more connected to children, more relaxed about affection, more aware of beauty without wanting to own it, more grateful. Less fearful. 

Walking today did not meet yesterday’s promise, but I did put in forty minutes pacing the hall at home and in pretty good form. I was woken by a cough that, with accompanying nasal discharge, kept me awake last night for over two hours, and the morning walk never really woke me up. So, I have mixed feelings about the day. I found out that my long-time feline pal, Tito, who lived next door to where I am now, died this past winter at the age of fifteen, so I don’t have to listen for his very loud and insistent cry every time I leave the house. But I will, anyhow. I am deeply grateful that we got to say goodbye, in my lap (for the first time, thanks to the wheelchair) with purrs, last December. And that – said my lovely neighbor who answered my question about Tito’s whereabouts – is life.

Saturday, June 4

I slept well but woke wanting more. My first impression upon rising was that today would be good for movement, then bit by bit it was as if my brain reconstructed the disease – and made it worse – just to punish me for my optimism. Walking was hard. Drinking from a glass was hard. Changing directions was super hard. Blowing my nose, sitting, and rising – all were hard. Then after the walk I slept in the recliner for an hour and a half as if I had slept not at all last night. (But I did seem to have discovered the right angle of incline to discourage restless leg syndrome.) Still, after lunch, sitting was uncomfortable enough to propel me into pacing the hall to oil the muscles, and it did help.

My dear friend Erika writes that she dreamt (or had a vision) of me walking alone on Corso, and that that was my future. Her timing is perfect, and keeps the day from slipping into despair.

The evening was one for the spirit. Walking in the garage was a great escape from the heat, then Natalia took me to four of the many exhibits of the first Orvieto in Fiore since 2019. The first floral mosaic we saw was in Sant’Andrea – an image of Saint Francis embracing a figure wearing a surgical mask. I burst into tears. Kudos to the young designers from Liceo artistico.

By bedtime, even though movement had not improved, the terrible discomfort that accompanies poverty of movement was gone. Tomorrow is, after all, another day.

Sunday, June 5

The discomfort is still on vacation as of early evening. Walking the garage this morning was good. Typing is a struggle, but has been worse. Movement after a long post-lunch nap in the recliner was poverty-stricken indeed, but some pacing and qigong helped.

Allowing the heat outdoors to calm, we left the apartment later than usual and walked the welcome coolness of the garage. Natalia has constructed a beach there for me to imagine, complete with a rowboat made of old wood. Early in our walk she stopped me. “This is a disease of the brain. The brain is plastic, you can teach it to be different. So teach it healthy habits.”

Something tells me that the PD is actually gone, and what I am dealing with now is reconstruction. Another part of me says I’m a damn fool for thinking that. My Friend tells me to follow my bliss.

Monday, June 6

I woke up on my own this morning, and felt more energetic than I have in months, if not years. I got up from the far side of the bed with little effort and sat waiting for Roman, amazed at my strength and agility. By the time we left for the morning walk forty minutes later I was stiff and wobbly. The walk was pretty good but difficult and the next half hour of errands and partaking of morning beverage exhausted me. Once alone after lunch I felt stiffer and less mobile than I have felt in months, if not years.

What is going on? My Friend repeated last night’s advice; follow your bliss.

A nap helped energy a bit, but was constantly interrupted by a fly’s landing on my nose.

Come evening, I had an appointment at my dentist’s for a cleaning. On the way back we stopped at Via delle Costituente where we have had many successful walks this spring. I could barely move. 

Now, here’s the thing; I am convinced that the approach The Parkinson’s Recovery Project takes is valid and effective, but I am not convinced that I can follow it alone – without personal and professional guidance. So, lately I’ve been dreaming of somehow returning to Santa Cruz, where the Project is based, to pursue in person treatments with Janice or one of her colleagues. I was dreaming of strolling the beach at Twin Lakes on our way back from Piazza del Popolo when we passed a woman with words of gold emblazoned on her t-shirt: “Follow Your Dreams, they are always right”. In English. We turned onto Corso Cavour to refresh ourselves at my favorite gelateria, but the only table not filled was one with a fellow named Fernando sitting at it, so we asked if he would share.

I’ve said hello to Fernando when we pass for three or four years now, but we have never had a conversation. I asked him where he was from. “Rome, Los Angeles, Santa Cruz…” When in Santa Cruz? “Nineteen seventy four through eight.” He majored in economics and art history at UCSC, and one of his art professors was my landlord.

A journey to Santa Cruz would be complex to plan and daunting to make, and may only seem necessary when I feel as I do tonight. But who knows? There might be someone up for a two-month house swap, house sit, or rental. And maybe Roman would see it as an exotic vacation. Puttin’ it out there!