Roll Over, Beethoven!

1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5  Secret Code….or Something Else?

 

I’ve been running these numbers through my head off and on all day.  It’s because of something  I may have in common with your seven year old daughter or son – I’m taking piano lessons!

I’ve always wanted to learn to play the piano.  My parents acknowledged that but never ran out to buy a piano for me.  My brother wanted to play the guitar and poof! – a guitar appeared.  But this was not a sibling rivalry or bad parenting issue.  My father was in the military and we moved quite frequently.  Not only were pianos expensive but moving one often just didn’t seem rational.

“Honey, Listen to me play ‘Old McDonald’.  Oops, let me start again.”

I envy musicians. The ability to make beautiful music for yourself and/or others, to have a creative outlet for expressing yourself must be wonderful.  I remember hearing my next door neighbor when we lived in a townhouse, playing for her own amusement.  Once, later, I mentioned how I had Ioved to hear it and she was greatly embarrassed. She shouldn’t have been; I was in awe of her skill.  I heard some really talented musicians last weekend and allowed myself to fantasize what it would be like to be able to create new music, to play favorite pieces, even to sing so beautifully.

Am I supposed to put both thumbs on middle C?

But I digress.  When my seven year old son wanted to learn to play the piano, we were able to buy a used piano from another family who’d “outgrown” it.  Son turned out to be fairly gifted and still plays when he’s home from college. He has a keyboard at school; an easier alternative to move back and forth.  It shares space with his guitar and ukulele.  He’s said over and over, “You should take lessons, Mom.”  I’ve toyed with the idea for a long time but didn’t want to go to someone who would want me to do recitals and other standard programs (and yes, I asked teachers and they did expect that.)

I can play scales!

Then last week, a friend of mine who is a technical consultant (and talented pianist) mentioned that work had slowed down quite a bit.  A light bulb went off and I asked her if she’d be willing to teach me to play.  She’s only taught her children but we have the books from her children and mine. She has a lovely baby Grand which outshines my upright and makes (almost) anything sound better.

What do you mean my right hand plays different notes from the left at the same time?

I had my first class this week.  We can progress a little faster because I can read music and because I’ve watched others and used the books around the house to peck at the piano for fun.   I told her my goal is to be able to play “Happy Birthday” and at least one Christmas carol with two hands.  Small goals, but it’s a start. My teacher showed me how to practice scales so I’ve been at the piano, doing it every time I walk by. I’m also working through the beginner books, to make sure we cover all the details.  I’m more driven than your average seven year old starting out, I guess, but I don’t have as much time to enjoy the result.

Come listen to me play Old McDonald now!

I wrote a post a couple of months ago about surprising my children with my willingness to try new things.  Maybe it’s my Parkinson’s disease to blame.  I know I have to stay mentally nimble and physically fit to fight this beast.  Learning new things is a great way to stay sharp until my Parkinson’s wins control of my brain cells. The tai chi class I take is both physical and mental practice.  Other activities support one or the other. The piano lessons will definitely help.  Truly, having a degenerative disease does give you a sense of the limit of time.  I hope to squeeze all I can into what time there is.  I want my children to see that I fought hard and long and kept learning.  Meanwhile I can’t wait to play “Happy Birthday” at the next birthday dinner!  Wish me luck!

Psst…12312345 is some of the right-hand fingering I was told to use while practicing scales.

The Healthy One

The flu has hit my family like it has so many others. All of us have had flu shots, by the way.  My mother in a nursing home had it as did both of my parents-in-law. My youngest daughter, 19, came down with it first in our house.  She literally did not have the energy to move from her bed for a couple of days, had body aches like she’s never felt before along with fever and a racking cough that was the last symptom to finally disappear. Question: How do you know your young adult is truly ill? Answer: When they look at you on New Year’s Eve…when they have plans they’re excited about…and say that they just don’t feel up to it and crawl back to bed.  Luckily, she recovered a few days before she had to return to school.

Then, mid-week last week, my husband mentioned he felt funny.  On Thursday night, he came home complaining of a cough.  By Friday morning, he was down. Important fact to note:  he has worked at this same company for over 30 years and has never called in sick!  But this time, fever and, cough had  hit along with the aches. He called in to work to tell his boss, only to find out that the boss was out with the flu as well.  We’ve gone through the weekend now and he will miss work another day today.  His cough is worse than my daughter’s was; I think he may be looking at bronchitis in addition to the flu.  It’s so painful sounding that I cringe when he coughs.

I may be inviting the demons to strike me but I’m feeling very proud and lucky to not have gotten the flu; okay, I’ll say it, YET!  But I was visiting my mother when she had the flu , visited the in-laws while they had the flu, cared for my daughter and sleep with my husband and still don’t have it. By now, I should have shown symptoms.

For me, being the one with the chronic, degenerative illness, I’m enjoying being the well one for a change.  No, of course, I’m not happy any of my family got sick.  I certainly hope this flu season  ends soon with no more fatalities.  But I’ve welcomed the chance to care for my family, especially my husband who takes such good care of me. As the well one, I’ve taken his temperature.  As the well one, I’ve made a big pot of homemade chicken soup (recipe below), kept him drinking liquids, made sure he’s taking pain relievers and cough medicine on a timely basis and whatever else would help.  No small measure this, I kept the cat, a very vocal Maine Coon cat who believes it’s his responsibility to make sure we all get up each morning, out of the room when he’s sleeping.

A doctor said to me last year, “Except for the Parkinson’s, you’re very healthy”, a comment I consider similar to that famous line, “Except for that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?” This time so far, I am the healthy one and am glad to have a chance to give back.

If you have the flu, too, feel better soon.

CHICKEN SOUP

6 cups of chicken stock
Small Onion
Carrots (4)
Celery
Cooked Chicken (2 cups)

Saute the vegetables, cleaned and sliced,  in a little butter until the onions are translucent.  Cut the cooked chicken into bite-size pieces. Combine vegetables and chicken and add broth to all, salt and pepper to taste.  Bring to a boil, then let simmer on low for 30 minutes. This is just the basic version.  You can make your own stock, add other vegetables or beans, as well as whatever spices you desire.  I added white beans, extra vegetables and extra broth, fresh parsley snipped and a little thyme.

It Takes Two Hands to Clap

It’s an interesting thing having a chronic disease.  I have Parkinson’s Disease, was diagnosed back in 2009.  I had never known women could even get Parkinson’s, and thought it was something much older people got.  I mis-interpreted my symptoms for awhile, attributing them to a botched (in my personal opinion) bunion surgery which left me with leg and foot issues.  There were other signs but I didn’t know  that they were all part of the same issue.  But, I remember being at my son’s lacrosse game, and trying to clap.  I couldn’t get my two hands to clap together; my left hand just wouldn’t cooperate. It was time to see a doctor.

The medicine I was given was, to me, a godsend.  Although my neurologist told me to give it a month or so to work, I saw a change within days of starting it.  Of course, over  time, my body has needed occasional increases or changes in meds, but basically I seem normal. I don’t tell everyone that I have this disease.  I thought I would, but quickly realized that some people see nothing but the disease once they’re told. So I have been able to choose who and when I tell people.

Being able to decide who and when to tell is a luxury given to me by the medications.  I’ve told people who have said that they never would have known, that I looked and seemed “normal”.  Probably only my husband, my doctor and my PD friends realize that the medicines just mask my problems.  I can tell when its time to take my meds by listening to my body before I actually see a clock.

One of the best ways to fight back when you have Parkinson’s Disease is through exercise. My husband and I prioritize this as almost my main job.  I use a local gym, go to water exercise classes and am taking tai chi. I feel better when I exercise, it keeps me strong and prevents my joints for locking up.  The water classes and tai chi are both sponsored by a local PD association, meaning I have gotten to meet and get to know other folks facing the same challenge.  There are as many women as men and it has enriched my life to know them.  I’ve also gotten to “know” bloggers, both affected and caregivers, who have shared their experiences and allowed me to get to know my disease and its progression in various ways. I love to laugh and  these are the people I can crack jokes with about the disease.   I mean, there are positives.  Studies show chocolate can help with symptoms, and also coffee.  I am just waiting for them to discover that red wine does, too, although we already know it’s just generally good for the heart.  . I hear they might add PD to the list of diseases which qualify for medical marijuana.  Now if they could find a positive benefit from tobacco and Bailey’s Irish Cream.  I’d love to take up smoking and to justify the cost of Bailey’s.

 

Like other people with chronic diseases, I have had to find a way to deal with what lies in my future.  I have a pretty wonderful life at this point so I don’t want to spend this good time worrying about  when  that will end.  I don’t want my family to be sad or abnormal around me so  I don’t talk about it unless they ask.    I think of myself sometimes as screaming inside (think of the Edvard Munch painting, “The Scream” here), even as I go about my day.  It’s my alter ego of a sort. If I stop and contemplate what advanced PD looks like, that would be me.  But there’s a lot of life left in between and I’m not ready to give up.  With my husband’s support, my doctor’s expertise, good medicines, and great friends, I’m back to clapping with both hands.