She was Angry and Grumpy and Normal and Confused

And then not. It is a puzzling disease.  It is odd and frustrating.  It is Thursday. It is a exercise class day. I had no other expectations beyond that. The morning was kinda normal.  I got up at 7AM for meds and she laid back down for a bit. We got up at 8AM. Overnight she had been angry with me for helping her to the bathroom. She seemed like she was dreaming. She forgot where the bathroom is located and became angry when I opened the doors to show her. She shifted into what I call “little kid” mode and said, “you don’t know everything. I’m going to bed.” (Her hesitant PD motion is gone during these episodes.) She has had other verbal dreams like this before. She does not remember them in the morning.

Breakfast was her usual Life cereal with dried cherries and milk. Orange juice is the drink of choice. She perked up a bit and I watched the news. The morning news is getting a bit repetitive; first the covid report, then the Afghanistan debacle and then the general disaster report, fire, earthquakes etc. Life sucks all over the world. The boys in Gaza were not throwing stones and other pieces of concrete at the Israelis across the fence. The Israelis were passing out booster shots instead. But Cheryl seemed to be doing well this morning.

Off into her office she goes to check email and see if there is any news. She checked for text messages on the way there. No emergency emails were found. This could indeed be a good day.

Close to time for her second dose of meds she reported being very tired. Indeed this is a normal wearing off of the medication. I suggested that she should take her ten o’clock and then lay down for a bit. After her 10AM meds she is up and down a lot. It takes some time for the medication to bring relief. She often reports a tightness or congestion in her chest. A coughing jag may occur. She might get up and wander the house with her limping hesitant parkie motion. I asked if she needed help with anything. She said no. I told her that her class was going to happen in a couple hours and she should start preparing for that and put on her clothes, put in her earrings and so on.

She decided I was being mean and I should leave her alone. Perhaps I was pushing too much for her to get dressed.


As a caregiver it saddens me sometimes that as I try to steer her towards activities that I am certain will help her feel better she is resistant. I admit to pushing sometimes to get her off the tired and feeling not up to it fence. She gives me her wrath in return. It would be easier to give in and accept her malaise. The relief is only short lived, as I have done that before and she wanders around in a funk for hours.


We discussed going to her exercise class at length. She told me that she knows it helps her but she was really tired at that moment. I suspect it is hard for her some days to summon up the courage, strength and ambition to go forward with this tiring disease. Her sister Janice often complained of being incredibly tired constantly. In Jan’s case she slept mostly in a lounge chair. Cheryl seems unable to nap in a lounge chair.

I asked if she wanted a little Coca-Cola and chips or a snack of some sort. Yes. What kind of chips do we have? – was her reply. Only potato chips, I think you ate all the Sun chips, I told her. Another thing to keep track of is her appetite and desire for certain foods. Up until about three years ago Cheryl always had some peppermints with her. It was basically the only kind of candy that she would eat. Today she never wants them but I have butterscotch blobs in the car because I like them. She likes them also.

She went to class. I noticed that she seems to be coming out of her funk. She had conversation with several of her fellow classmates on the way in. PCF is such a warm and welcoming place. As she came in and talked to people she perked up. As we were driving over to PCF she asked where should we go for lunch. Then she asked, “How about Skyline for lunch?” We have not been there for several weeks but it is a favorite of hers. (One cheese coney – no onions. Sinful.) We’ll see was what I thought at the time. We ate lunch at the Skyline on Plainfield Rd. (One cheese coney – no onions. Still sinful. I had a 5-way.)

We shopped at the IGA to buy groceries on the way home from Skyline.

We had corn on the cob and hamburgers for dinner.

After dinner she went to work on the labels for birthday cards. She was confused about printing labels when I checked on her but she was working on organizing things.

She came into my office at about 9PM and asked me to give her a ride home. She mumbled something like, “Mom has left so I’ll need a ride home.” I helped take her bedtime meds. I explained that we were already home and I would help her with printing the labels for the birthday cards tomorrow.

Oh well tomorrow is my birthday.

Carpe Thursday Diem!

Last Night it was Bacall’s Cafe

Wednesday night dinner out was a favorite place Bacall’s Cafe. She had a half BLT and a salad. I had pot roast, mashed potatoes and vegetables which turned out to be sauteed zucchini. It was a regular night.

Cheryl spent a great deal of the time trying to get her right earring in. She never did. The waitress tried to help but was worried about hurting her ear. Many years ago when she had her ears pierced the incompetent piercer did not get the hole straight through. For many years she was able to make it work. These days her PD fidgety motion makes inserting the post or pin often unsuccessful.

Eventually I convinced her that no one cared and she should put it in her purse and try later. We talked about different things none of which stuck with me. She did not have any odd topics to talk about. It was a dinner conversation that lulled me into forgetting about her PD. We teased each other as old married people do.

I remarked that none of her family came to her family gathering at her cousin’s house. She replied that maybe since they had been at our niece’s wedding the previous weekend they were doing other things. Perhaps she right, as family gatherings go, the clans tend to stick together with not much intermingling.

We saw several old acquaintances at other tables and booths. It was Wednesday afternoon and the old folks were out having dinner and a drink or two. Talking about this and that. She was having a good day for the moment.

When we got home, I settled into my recliner to watch a bit of news and for Nature to come on our local PBS station. She went into her office to look at the clutter and maybe check email. About an hour or so later as I was starting to read my book and tigers of India were saved for now, she showed me some pictures that she thought were of my sister Laura and her family from a trip out west. (POOF) she was off in PD la la land.

The pictures have little to do with Laura although she is in some of them and nothing to do with any trip out west but Joyce and Rob, our family’s only westerners, are in them. The pictures are of two Christmas celebrations twenty-five or so (maybe thirty) years ago.

Oh well, Carpe Diem!

Last night I was Someone Else

This whole hallucination, delusional reality thing that seems to have developed during this latest phase of Parkinsonism is truly disheartening.

Last night she addressed me as “Dad” several times. I tend to ignore it when she does this because much of the time she merely cannot find a name or a term for someone or something. Occasionally it becomes a little game that we play until I guess the correct person or thing. She responds with, “Thank you” when I find the name for her.

Sometimes, however, it becomes apparent that she is having a delusional episode. It becomes apparent suddenly to me. I do not recall the exact context last evening but I became aware that she did not know who I am. I asked, “Do you know who I am?” She replied, “Dad always says you are Paul.” My heart just broke when she said that.

It is a hard to describe the emotion. It feels like something in between fear, anxiety, anger, empathy, love and disappointment.

A deep love for her as we travel this journey. One foot in front of the other as we travel step by ever so slower step. We make every attempt to enjoy the scenery and smell the flowers. We take as much joy as we can in the moment. It is hard sometimes but in the last several days new life has come into the wider family and we are happy for the new parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.

A great fear for her future and perhaps I dread the eventual realization that I might not be able to care for her alone. Those thoughts tumble down into the mire of money and will it last and for how long and how long will we need external support and how long and how long. These thoughts go nowhere. No one can see the future and if you are a deep believer, there is a plan somewhere. It sure would be nice to peek at it to prepare.

An anxiety about all of those things is a first cousin to fear. Meditation and journaling helps. It is not my make up to leave things in the hands of others.

I have developed an empathy through walking this road together with her. It saddens me that I cannot fix it. Much of that thought comes from the feeling that the Plan is being developed as we move along the road. That sucks, big time. The engineer in me pushes back on idea of starting the mechanism while it still being developed. Poor practice as that will really blow the service budget.

A few months ago I realized that the anger I feel, a deep despairingly fist hitting anger, is with the disease and what it takes from her. I am embarrassed to admit that I am not good at redirecting my anger into action. Or deflecting my anger away from her by keeping it out of my voice. I am just not good at that last. I apologize a lot.

All of those things add up to a disappointment with the situation.

On the next day she was lucid, not confused and fine. Go figure. “everyday is a winding road” – Sheryl Crow

Carpe Diem.

God Damn this Disease of Parkinson!

Yesterday was Hallucination day! I try to schedule very little for Monday. When I was still working it was one of those days that it was unnecessary to plan. Monday usually awoke with a bang and set the tone for the rest of the week. These days it is merely “wash the bed linens” day.

Yesterday which was Monday also was Hallucination Day. Cheryl’s little girls visited for most of the day. They were vividly apparent to her. She talked to them while she was working on organizing her stuff.

I had taken her medication to her in her office on Sunday evening. She was talking to her cousin and spilled the water on a couple of address books that she uses to organize the birthday card activity. A disaster occurred when the books got wet. Yesterday I got the hair drier out and showed her how to use it to dry the pages. She spent a couple hours and an enjoyable conversation with – she said – Virginia. It seemed harmless so I went with the flow. I worry about the eventual outcome.

An aspect of this is that I am able to get her to come back from who she sees by talking to her directly and getting her to tell me who or what she sees. At least she doe not see visions of horror. A drug she took about three years ago caused horrific visions especially at night.

These days she sees her sister Janice and our granddaughter Virginia mostly. Yesterday she saw her Dad, Mom and my mother. She had a long conversation with my mom on the back porch as she swept some twigs and dirt off it that was left by some storms that passed over during the past weeks. When I asked her to come in to eat dinner she asked if my mother was eating with us. Pointing out that Mom was dead dissipated the vision.

The hallucinations are activity related. She talks to Virginia when she is doing arts and crafts. Janice shows up at night when she is sleeping or awake to go to the bathroom. Her mother seems to appear when she is thinking about and working on the card list. It seems like she occasionally mistakes me for her dad when I am working on some household project. Our sons come and go at random in her reality. She often thinks our youngest is here when we are getting ready to eat.


A favorite organizational chart or crafty Venn Diagram

Every now and then the whole confusion and got to get organized thing adds together with the memory thing to make life miserable for a few minutes or hours while I try to locate an important something for Cheryl. Today it was a couple of checks that her friends who are not internet savvy gave to her to donate to her sunflower fund raiser. She put them in a special place while I was not paying attention. Just when things are going smooth and the road looks straight a tire blows out and the vehicle veers off into a ditch.

It is much easier when I can see where she stashed (whatever) in the Special Place. The checks were discovered inside an old envelope from our nephew Stephen that was used to mail a thank you card to his grandmother now deceased. I suppose the envelope was kept because it had a current address for Stephen at the time. Why it was not recorded and then pitched is beyond this humble person’s understanding. Why it is in our house ten years later is less so.

Caregiver Anger — Damn this disease! In her confusion she found this envelope parked where Jill and Michael’s envelope had been parked for weeks. (The Special Place).

It is possible to laugh and cry at the same time.

It would be so much better if she was merely slow and stiff. I say this without meanness. If this was merely a physical disability. It might be easier for me personally to deal with but I am merely speculating. The mental difficulties come and go. They go less so of late. Mentally she is still young and agile. In the present she is older and fragile.

I worry about her falling and then she tells me she can not find something. I help her to find it and she is sorry to have brought an extra task to me so she puts herself in precarious positions to help look for it.

It is a repetitive story.

Carpe Diem.

Do You Have Sons?

It was an totally off the wall question from her as we finished up the waffles I made for breakfast.  (I have finally succeeded at chocolate chip waffles without screwing up the waffle iron.)  She looked at me sincerely with a forkful of waffle and asked me, do you have sons?  I replied, yes we have two sons.  We have two sons?, she repeated.  Do you know who I am?, I asked her.  No I am not sure, she said.

This morning she is not sure who I am.  She accepts the fact that I am here with her.  She does not question why.  I am at a loss for words and ideas as to how to return her to now.

This morning she is not sure where she is either.  This inability to understand where she lives usually aligns with her inability to know who I am.  It seems to present after a night of poor sleep.  Early this morning she awakened at 1:30 AM or so and became anxious about having something to eat and taking her pills.  She was certain I was keeping her medication from her no matter how many times I explained that it was too early.

Where are we going to church?  After a few minutes of conversation about sons  and their ages, she asked me this question.  I replied that we would be going to Nativity at about 4PM this afternoon which led to a discussion about what day this is and what is going on tomorrow.   I thought she was back.

And then she asked me, is your wife going?  I did not immediately respond and she asked will you introduce me?  This group does not talk much about family.  I would like to know more about this family.  (smiley face)  I thought to myself, this could be a long day of confusion.

As I write this I am listening to her talk to my brother-in-law in Florida.  Cheryl inadvertently dialed him while looking at other stuff on her phone.  She stopped the call but Bill called back to ask if something was wrong.  There was but he was not able to tell from his far away position in Florida.  They chatted for awhile and I thought she was slowly coming back to reality.  Alas, she was not.  After she terminated the connection she asked me where was this place we had spent the day.  This is where we live, I told her.  This is our home.

Confusion about going to church and time to be up seems a common theme of the overnight early morning discussions.  This morning after the discussion about medication schedule and when the next dose was due she reported that she had a queasy stomach.  She wanted something to eat. I got her some cereal and orange juice.  As she spied the pills for 7AM the conversation returned to – I should be taking medicine now. She can be remarkably confrontational and difficult in her early morning confusion. I moved the meds to my office. She ate a little cereal and juice. She eventually announced that she could eat no more cereal.

We sat down in living room for a while and I coaxed her back to bed. Queasy stomach was still part of the conversation. She gobbled a couple Tums. She was unable to sleep without her bucket. She curled up with her bucket angry with me and eventually fell asleep. So did I. I have no doubt that her stomach was queasy although that was a new description.

On our visit to the neurology group did produce a new prescription to help with memory issues which relates to cognition and a whole host of other issues that tumble down from that. The new thing is Rivastigmine which is supposed to help. So far after half dozen doses, the jury is still out. I have been meticulous at making sure that she eats food when she takes this medicine. It can cause nausea.

She is anxious about fund raising for the Sunflower Revolution. She very much wants to raise more money than last year. Even as I explain that she does not have to provide the money, she worries that the word will not get out. My daughter and I have taken over the marketing of this for her.

Carpe Diem this has been a long day.

Time after Time

A few minutes ago I went in to check to see how she was doing. She told me that Tari picked out some really cute birthday cards this time around. (Tari was not with us shopping for cards yesterday but that is not important.) She is working on the August birthday cards. She had just put on her favorite Rod Stewart CD on the player in her little office. This song came on. It happens to be one of my favorites. This disease of Parkinson is slowly taking her from me and I long for the old days.

What good are words I say to you?
They can’t convey to you what’s in my heart
If you could hear instead
The things I’ve left unsaid

Time after time
I tell myself that I’m
So lucky to be loving you

So lucky to be
The one you run to see
In the evening, when the day is through

I only know what I know
The passing years will show
You’ve kept my love so young, so new

And time after time
You’ll hear me say that I’m
So lucky to be loving you

I only know what I know
The passing years will show
You’ve kept my love so young, so new

And time after time
You’ll hear me say that I’m
So lucky to be loving you
Lucky to be loving you

An old standard by Rod Stewart

It is a lament of times passed and an optimism for the future. I often struggle with that last part when this disease of Parkinson appears in the middle of the night or I am researching incontinence products on various websites. On melancholy days I think about the preParkinson times. It helps to not look back with longing for those experiences. Time only moves forward. I am grateful to have had those experiences with her. I am grateful for the times we have yet to experience.

Do I wish she did not have Parkinson’s disease? You betcha.. Cyndi Lauper has a song that might be more familiar with a similar sentiment. Once in a while I get very nostalgic for our previous life. I let it roll over me in waves. It is helpful.

Tonight’s menu is Salisbury steak, rice, green beans and corn. I am baking a small cinnamon crumble cake for dessert. These are some of her favorite foods. I am following the Dinner for Two cookbook by Betty Crocker which is her favorite cookbook. She will compare her version before our kiddos came along to my version this evening.

Hopefully the hallucinatory little girls that often populate our home in the evening will not appear and we can rest later.

She is looking for earrings after she awoke from her nap.

Carpe Diem.

Pizza Tuesday

Several years ago we began going to a favorite local pizza store one night a week. We tried different days and over time we landed on Tuesday as the day we went out for pizza. It developed into a tradition as my youngest son would say. It became known as “Pizza Tuesday”. Sometimes in conversation a friend might say, “Can we get together tomorrow?” I might reply, “No. That’s Pizza Tuesday.” It became sacred. We did, however, invite others to our favorite pizza store to share. Occasionally one could see local celebrities such as one of the local colleges’ basketball coach there snarfing pizza like the rest of us fans.

When we sold our old house and moved to our condominium we invited our neighbor and friend Jane to our Tuesday dining adventure. It became a time to chat and catch up. Pizza Tuesday as a tradition became even more ingrained in our routine.

The pandemic pandemonium stopped much of that activity. At first we carried out (took away) our pizza from our favorite pizza store and moved our tradition home to our dinning room table. That worked well for a bit. Over a period of approximately fifteen months we experimented with pizza that was not only pepperoni. We added vegetables and fungus. We tried other sauces from the menu. We tried other pizza stores. We tried take away from other food emporiums. We expanded our flavors.

As the pandemonium eased Cheryl and I slowly began to visit restaurants with few or no utensils or menus. I learned how to use the square bar code thingy that restaurants pasted to their tables, walls and doors. A restaurant with paper menus became a favorite when previously it was not a favorite. Victoria, a young waitress at the favorite-not favorite, began to recognize us by sight. We came when she was working often. We began to look for her and tease her a bit about her constantly changing hairstyle. There was a reason to go there beyond pizza.

Socialization is a strong motivator. I worried a bit for Cheryl’s safety and health but I recognized that for her it was important to simply get out and see people other than me. Even in a pandemonium, one must live. Neighbor Jane who is immune-compromised remained isolated.

This past Tuesday evening we went back to Pizza Tuesday. The three of us went to yet a different pizza store. Perhaps, for us, THE PANDEMONIUM IS OVER! Prior to this event we made a list of various foods both home cooked and restaurant dishes that we would like to have. Jane aimed this discussion specifically at Cheryl. We will read the list and tick them off one by one. And I hope make a new list at the end of this list.

We are all three vaccinated. Not one of us has bought into the disinformation distribution on social media. Eating out and conversation provides all of Maslow’s hierarchy in one way or another. This chart is similar to one I saw many years ago.

An old psychology chart that I have not seen for awhile.

Godspeed and Carpe Diem.

Sweet, Fruity and Well Balanced

That is written on the front of my often bought bag of Eight O’clock coffee. I thought a good life philosophy.

Overnight was a hard one. Cheryl has been having a rough time sleeping at night. She has the normal seventeen trips to the bathroom overnight that occurs with any older person. Her Parkinsonism intensifies this experience.

The past few nights I have trained myself to get up with her. I have tried to get my system on her schedule. We started this because a few nights ago she awoke in a panic. She worries about incontinence. In her dreamy wake up at one o’clock in the morning, she was certain it had happened. She awakened me and I helped her to get cleaned up and new pajamas and other anti-leak equipment. (The pajamas she wore to bed were fine as were the other things but in the early morning dreamy state it is not important to argue.)

Since that experience I have awakened with her to guide her and help. I have to admit I am cranky pants in the early morning hours. It is sometimes difficult to get her interested in going back to bed. I have taken to hiding her medications occasionally because she has taken them in the middle of the night. I am uncertain that I will wake up with her and I worry that she will over medicate and inadvertently harm herself.

Last night and early morning was particularly bothersome. We got through it. I let her sleep a little later than normal before I gave her the mornings meds. She and I came to bed afterwards and slept a little longer.

Today she is very tired. She told me this earlier after her second dose of meds for the day. I told her I was not surprised at that as she had not slept well the night before. She replied that she did not remember. It seems unimportant to discuss overnight difficulties with someone who has no memory of events. I dressed the bed and helped her to lay down for a late morning nap.

Maintaining sweetness, a fruitful and well balanced life as a caregiver to a person with a chronic affliction can be hard. I have no mystical, magic or wise solutions to the stuff that pops up. Meditation does help to calm the caregiver.

Meditations (From Davis Phinney website)

[1] The first one-minute meditation involves counting your breath cycles. You count every exhalation from 1 to 10. Once you reach 10, you can go back down to 1 and continue the cycle as long as you’d like. In the audio recording, with my breath cycle, I only counted from 1 to 10 once in the 1-minute meditation.

[2] The second one-minute meditation is also a breath counting meditation. You count at the beginning of every breath cycle before each inhalation. We count cycles of 10 breaths. Once you complete 10 cycles, you go back to one and continue the cycle.

[3] In the third one-minute meditation, we take a breath before we begin to notice where we feel the breath most acutely. It may be at the tip of the nose, in our chests, in our bellies, or somewhere else. For the entire minute, you focus on the region of the body you feel most throughout each breath cycle.

[4] In the fourth one-minute meditation, we follow the entire breath cycle with our full awareness. We follow the breath from the first area we notice it (for me it is the tip of the nose) until it expands our chest and bellies, we pay attention to the way it feels when our lungs are full of air, and then we follow our full exhalation. We continue to be present with our breath and bring full awareness to the sensations of inhalation and exhalation for the entire minute.

[5] The longest guided meditation is a five-minute body scan. Body scans often range from 15 minutes to 45 minutes; however, similarly to the breathing meditations, I wanted to make this a shorter introduction to the experience to see what feels right for you. We scan from the feet to the top of the head, breathing as we bring awareness to each new area of the body.


This small list of meditations help with calm. They work for me sometimes to help me relax.

Carpe Diem

One Ear On and One Ear Off

Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John : Went to bed with his britches on. : One shoe off, and one shoe on; Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John — It is interesting what jumps into your head at odd moments.

This morning after sleeping in for a bit Cheryl was still sleepy when I checked on her and asked about breakfast. She decided cereal was good and I dressed the bed. She used the bathroom and when she returned began searching through things setting on the dresser in front of the mirror on her side of it. I asked what she was looking for and at first she did not want to tell me . Eventually she told me she was missing an earring.

She had worn her little star sapphire earrings to watch our grandson’s ballgame last evening. One was still in her ear. one was at that moment unfindable.

I had to attend a meeting at school this morning, so I would be gone for a couple hours. I promised that I would help her find the earring when I returned. Although I had extracted a promise from her that she would not disassemble the house looking for earrings, I knew that she would be thinking and searching the whole time I was gone.

Later after I came home from my meeting I looked for and found it. She had taken off one and put it in the jewelry box. She had left the other in her earlobe when she went to bed last night. She was very tired last night when she went to bed. She had had a long day.

Anna and the girls had come to take her to her exercise class. They went out to lunch at one of Cheryl’s favorite lunch places. That allowed me to go to my caregiver’s support group meeting at lunchtime. In the late afternoon we watched Max play baseball. It was a long day for her but she enjoyed every minute and she told me so on the way home from the game. “Thank you for the nice day, Dear.” she told me as we drove home.

The little ditty about my son John jumped into my head when I found her earring and became a hero to her this afternoon.

Diddle diddle dumpling my wife Cheryl

Went to bed with her life in peril

One earring off and one earring still

Unfindable in the morning chill

I find that I love her more each day and the debilitating disease of Parkinson I hate even more.

Carpe Diem

The Parable of the Lost Mind

The Parable of the Lost Coin; Luke: 15.8 – Or what woman having ten coins (when I was younger, this was talent) and losing one would not light a lamp and sweep the house, searching carefully until she finds it? And when she does find it, she calls together her friends and neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found the coin that I lost.’

This story came to me as do lots of stories from the bible and elsewhere after a cataclysmic episode in our life with Parkinson’s damnable disease.

This morning was a confused and befuddled one. This is not unusual in any way with this annoyingly debilitating disease. As a caregiver I just pay attention to be assured that nothing catastrophic happens and when it happens one just cleans up as best as you are able. This morning after she had a light breakfast of cereal, two muffins, orange juice, apple pie and tea she went into her office to check things. I heard her talking into her closet as I passed by with a load of laundry.

After loading the washer I asked who she was talking to. Often she would answer these two women or these two girls, this morning she responded with ‘myself’.

She told me that she could not find the stack of yet to be mailed birthday cards that we had put together the week before and propped next to her computer. She was frantic to find them. (Like the woman in Luke’s story.) I told her the cards where there somewhere probably just under something and not immediately visible. As I went out to gather the rest of the laundry I looked in all the usual places for the stack of cards. After I made my circuit and put the rest of the laundry near the washer I checked on her again.

She had found the cards. They were turned face down on her desk and underneath some collection of printed emails that where clipped together. She explained that and then spontaneously burst into tears.

The saddest, most maddening thing to a parkie with the beginnings of Parkinson’s disease dementia is the knowledge that her cognition is deteriorating. Sometimes she is acutely aware of missing pieces of her memory. Sometimes she is unaware. When awareness comes occasionally we hug and deteriorate into tears for a bit. We contemplate the next steps of our journey. We take time to feel a bit sad to realize the journey is becoming harder to do. The steps are harder to take.

It is hard to remain upbeat. It is okay to cry occasionally and let the emotion out.

I admire those who are able to remain upbeat. Parkinson’s disease sucks!

Carpe Diem.