The Weirdest Part, Control, and Why Humor Helps
The weirdest part is that, at some point, the absurdity becomes somewhat humorous, mostly because the alternative is yelling at the furniture.
Things like:
Planning your route across a room the way you once planned airport connections, including gate changes;
Graciously allowing gravity to manage the floor without your supervision;
Running your day like an operations briefing instead of a simple to-do list.
Before you realize it, your life is scheduled around work, doctor visits, medications, and exercise; less “daily routine,” more Apollo-mission-like.
Mission-critical.
Time-sensitive.
Precise launch windows.
Don’t get me or my tone wrong.
Parkinson’s didn’t break my spirit.
But it did remove the illusion that life was ever fully under my control.
Final Thought (Before the Algorithm Finds This)
Parkinson’s is serious.
It’s complicated.
It’s unfair.
My humor isn’t meant to diminish the disease or the very real impact it has on daily life. It isn’t denial, and it isn’t distraction. For me, it creates a little space; space to breathe when things feel heavy, space to think when the noise gets loud, and space to keep moving forward when the path feels complicated.
If it offers you a moment of recognition, a quiet laugh, or a bit of sarcastic perspective along the way, then it’s doing more than just telling a story.
It’s sharing one.
— End Part 2 —
