This November will be five years, five years since I was told by my doctor that I had Parkinson’s Disease. I don’t recall the exact date, probably because for me, it’s really not that important. After all, I don’t plan on hosting a kegger to celebrate but I do think that it is important to pause and reflect on how it has impacted me and those nearest to me.

I am sure that there is a long technical name for this, but I am amazed at how well the mind can bury unpleasant thoughts. I remember vividly Lisa’s response to the diagnosis, tears and lots of them. I recall a sense of denial when I told others by adding qualifier words like “I have been diagnosed…” or “my doctor told me that I have…”. It would take a few years before I could utter the words, “I have Parkinson’s.” But the weeks and months immediately following the news have become rather non-descript. I am sure that there were difficult days, more bad ones than good I suspect, but the bad days aren’t forever etched in my mind. This isn’t to say they weren’t difficult to endure at the time, I think it just means that time does heal.

I’m struggling to find the right words to express my thoughts this week. I could lament the loss of how I thought my life would be, but that would negate the positive changes that have occurred. That is not to say that I am thankful for my disease, that would imply that I am psychotic.

Thankfully the Gardener only prunes that in which he still finds value. Will I be one of the many whose activities of daily living are severely hampered by the disease? Or have I been, or better said, will I be spared? I have no idea what the future holds for me. But I don’t have to wait idly by, do I?

My future has already begun. I am living it. In some unplanned way, I am doing what I believe I was meant to do, at this time in history, for a reason or purpose that I am not yet aware. Jeff Goins has it right; a calling is what happens when a plan goes horribly wrong.

When taken in their totality, the good days and the bad, the joy and the sorrow, the victories and near misses, I don’t think I would trade my life for anything. Challenges and all, I am led to believe that the best is yet to come. If today doesn’t go as I had hoped, tomorrow starts anew and I get a clean page to make it what I want it to be, just like Harold did with his purple crayon.

After thinking it over, maybe a kegger is appropriate.

This truly has been one of the best years ever! Thank you for coming along for the ride. I wouldn’t be the same without you.

Thanks for reading, liking and sharing

Al and his faithful companion, Ivy the wonder pup.