Parkinson’s Sucks — it’s a crass statement, I know.

It’s how my wife expresses her feelings about my condition. The medical community describes it as a “chronic” and “progressive” disease, meaning the symptoms continue and get worse over time, meaning it has no upside. No wonder she cried when my doctor first mentioned it as a possible cause of the movement disorders that I was experiencing.

Looking back, I was displaying all of the classic symptoms; tremors, stiffness, slowness, just to name a few. My first doctor was an internist, so he thought that a neurologist would be more qualified to deliver the bad news. Of course, he did his own tests and came to this conclusion on his own. The process by which he determined I had PD, the sanitized abbreviation for Parkinson’s disease, was remarkably simple. I did some hand exercises that measured by coordination and dexterity, I had to walk down a hallway, stand on one foot and walk back towards him so that he could assess balance and gait; that was about it. All simple demonstrations that spoke volumes to him but were meaningless to me at the time.

Before my appointment, when I was told I had to be tested to determine if I had this life-altering neurodegenerative condition, I fully expected something a little flashier. No CT scan, no imaging of the brain; just simple hand movements. The icing on the cake was when he told me that the only true test would be if I responded favorably to the meds that he was about to prescribe. If I responded favorably, in all likelihood, I had PD. The good news was that after I began taking the meds most all of my symptoms either went away or were greatly diminished, the bad news was that after taking the meds most all of my symptoms went away or were greatly diminished, validating that I had PD.

I left the doctor’s office with his comforting assurance that PD wouldn’t kill me, heart disease, diabetes, or pneumonia more likely would; and “our” goal would be to manage my meds so that I could live a “near-normal” life. My parting instructions were to schedule my follow-up appointment for 3 months. No resources to equip me to deal with the emotional elements; he was a neurologist after all, not a social worker.

Sarcasm aside, the paragraph you just read encompassed about two months, two long emotion filled months packed with raw fear, a frantic search for reliable information about the condition for which I would be evaluated, uncertainty with regards to the likelihood of my physical deterioration, but mostly raw fear.

I had no first-hand interactions with anyone with PD. I knew of famous people, Muhammad Ali and Michael J Fox, who had been diagnosed a few decades before me and both were still alive. There was no one that I knew that I could call and ask how their life changed and what I could expect.

I suspected that my life wasn’t going to be the same; that normal would look much different and that everything from that point forward would be viewed from either a pre-diagnosis or a post-diagnosis perspective, regardless of the outcome. I was right, it did become a major milestone in my life. It became even more than that; it became my life. It consumed my thoughts day and night, partly because I had to, and still do, take meds every 3-4 hours, but mostly because it had an impact on virtually every part of my life.

But no more; it is my goal to put this disease into some sort of context so that it no longer consumes me. It begins now. I had to make a conscious decision to put my anger and bitterness aside and focus on a life of joy. I want to live a life that is rich and full and is not defined by what I cannot do, but what I still can. In all sincerity, the more I think that everything has changed, the more I am convinced that most things are the same; only I have changed. I hope for the better; that I am a better husband and father, a better boss and a better person.

It will be my objective to take the reader along on my journey, or more accurately stated my family’s journey, and share with you some of our experiences. Some good, others not so much. I ask for your forgiveness in advance if I drift into a sarcastic tirade; it’s all part of the journey.

Thank you for joining me and helping me make 2016 my best year ever.