MR. NATURAL

a novel by Elizabeth Langdon Andrews

LINDA'S BLOG

PARKIE CHRONICLES 3

Posted on April 11, 2017 at 3:45 PM



GRAPPLING WITH THE BEAST AND THEN SOME


Some cliffhanger.


The cliff is still there, just like last week, and I’m still hanging. I haven’t been able to try the generic Requip yet, and that's the least of my worly ries this week. I think this is called a “setback.”


Now, Parkies are accustomed to setbacks --- as in, we can be tooling along just fine when the bottom suddenly drops out of our entire life. We learn to start over on a daily basis, In fact, this week I finished putting together my Medicare package (for now) by enrolling in the one drug plan (out of 24 --remember? ) that covers my “lynchpin” drug – and it’s "only" going to cost me $150 a month on the average for that drug. Add up the premium, the other meds, the Part B Medicare premium, the Part B deductible, and whatever I’ve forgotten about – and I get out of the whole deal for $600 a month if I’m lucky. I’m just happy that I can afford the reliable label drug. Of course, only 1-2 critical decisions on Medicare’s or the drug company’s part to will put me in dire straits, but I’ll have plenty of time to worry about that if it happens. One learns to be grateful for small favors when battling a Beast like PD.


Besides, this week's setback was no gadfly;  suddenly, my medication’s “kick-in quotient” (ability to make me functional) went on a reaI bender, and I have no idea why. Moreover, I have yet to win the battle with insomnia, and (not least by any stretch) I still must get busy trying the Requip generics to see if I can find a “good” one. If I can only find one that works, I’ll be halfway where I need to be. Where is that? I’m not sure. I do know that my expectations have declined a tad; no longer can I expect and enjoy 4-5 blissfully medicated hours with smooth dosing between them, such that I could pretend I didn’t have PD much of the time. It’s as if I’m being chased by a tiger-like beast and the tiger is gaining ground. Since being diagnosed in 2001, I’ve stayed at least one length ahead of the Beast.  A couple of times lately, it’s caught me, but I’ve managed to escape. THAT'S what I ended up doing this week, and everything else went out the windiow.  The Beast is  especially ruthless in robbing us of what we love best, and it doesn’t “like” for us to fight it. Guess what, Beast? I don’t give a damn what you like; I’m all in -- and in case you haven't notiiced, I'm not the only one in this duo who has no intention of giving up.


“YOU HEAR THAT, BEAST? GO PICK ON SOMEBODY YOUR OWN SIZE WHO WON’T GIVE YOU SO MUCH GRIEF,” I hear myself saying.


The Beast lets out a wicked cackle: “Yes, but it’s worth my grief to see you suffer,” I can hear it saying -- as all evil beings do.


I always ignore this remark, because the only response other than to surrender is to keep resisting “by any means necessary.”  Unfortunately, aas I learned this week in dealiing with physical and economic setbacks, those means are becoming more and more limited (to say nothing of costly)..


But enough of my whining!


This Sunday will be Easter, and a day in the Christian calendar when hope quite literally springs eternal. Madison will be here, and I really hope my meds shape up so that I can go to church services with her. My wonderful brother and sister-in-law, Ben & Carla, have thankfully invited the fam to break bread (and inhale some thumbprint cookies, no doubt!) I hope the Beast will behave – as my friend Renda says, “Hell, honey, HOPE is what women live on!”


Just like Parkies.  See you next week!

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