Tuesday, September 6
Several years ago, on a road trip with a friend, our intention was to head towards Roma, but habit took over and we went towards Firenze instead. Pacing the hall at 02:30 so I could tire myself to sleep, I experienced Janice’s metaphor of PD being a deeply ingrained habitual choice; the onramp most taken will remain the unconscious first choice. In the hall at home, instead of mindlessly heading metaphorically north, I consciously chose south and enjoyed forty minutes of relatively smooth, controlled, and pleasurable walking. And there was a bounce to my step. For the final turn I chose the PD onramp. The gait became heavy and the tremors returned. It really is my choice!
Wednesday, September 7
The freeway metaphor leaves out that I can correct my choice immediately, I don’t need to wait for an offramp. I went to dinner with dear friends. It was wonderful, and a phenomenon characteristic of recovery manifested; speaking spontaneously, without mental preview or rehearsal. I had thought I already spoke freely until tonight, and the difference was startling.
We all went to the theatre for a concert following. The theatre was a little stuffy, and that made me uncomfortable, so I bailed halfway through and, with Roman’s kind help returned home. Mind over matter is a PD habit. I chose the other onramp and avoided tumbling down the PD symptoms rabbit hole.
Thursday, September 8
Slept long and well, but still fell into a nap while Roman massaged my legs. It was delicious but left me exceedingly limp. Walking felt impossible. All work at the computer was torturous.
Limpness was still the case when Michele arrived at four to give me a shiatsu treatment. It was wonderful, but as soon as he lifted his hands at the end, my body began to tighten, and within a minute was both rigid and exceedingly limp. I needed his help to walk to the recliner. Things stabilized gradually, but limpness and lack of agility lasted for hours.
I remembered that with shiatsu one often feels worse before one feels better.
Friday, September 9
The morning stroll was better than any walk has been in weeks. That was quickly followed by problems my arriving friends had with train service (a strike) which messed up both my Italian and ability to think solutions for a couple of hours. Then they found a couple driving to Firenze and were offered a ride to Orvieto! I took a very brief nap and woke barely able to walk. That passed, and Roman took us to a restaurant for dinner. I had difficulty managing the pizza, but it was delicious, and it was wonderful having Mary and Stasia here, even for just a few hours. I was supposed to join them at the theatre, but by then I was tired and Wednesday’s experience voted against risking a repeat.
Saturday, September 10
The day began with a flurry of messages; birthday wishes, lost friends, plans. Roman took us on a tour of centro which ended at the Duomo where I walked (with difficulty) on the sagrato. Everyone spoke overlapping while expecting me to translate. That wore me out in short order, but I managed again to avoid the rabbit hole – but just barely. I remained limp – and mobile only with great difficulty – for the rest of the day. At night, I woke after a couple hours sleep unable to sustain a comfortable position. Imagined or not, the problem kept me awake for three hours. But when I slept, it was blissfully.
Sunday, September 11
Limp, even limper than before. I’m trying to go with it.
I remembered today that I used to feel like I was always recuperating from something, and never could. That there was something elementally out of balance and I never knew what. Despite the limpness, weird sleep patterns, and manual awkwardness, I no longer feel that.
After a short and stumbling walk on the sagrato, Iryna and Anya and I played catch in the piazza.
Monday, September 12
It was a sack of potatoes night in terms of movement in bed, so I fully expected to be limper than ever today. I was pleasantly surprised when the morning walk on the sagrato was in relatively good form and comparatively smooth and quiet. The eight year old boy acting out the dozens of characters that populated his private adventure film helped keep my gait focused and light. I wish there were a means of tracking his progress as an actor so I could be there for his first award at Cannes.
The evening walk was pretty good, too.