As I write this first post, I am still wondering where exactly this blog will go. I thought this was from me to some unseen persons anywhere in the world but why would I presume that I had anything to offer them or that they would care about me and whatever I say? So really its not from, but instead, for me with people looking over my shoulder if they so choose.
So where to start? I
offer you a collection of thoughts covering the last 13 years. I call it Diatribe.
Di`a`tribe
1: archaic : a
prolonged discourse
2: a bitter and abusive speech or writing
3: ironic or satirical criticism
-
Unknown
An idle Tuesday,
3:30pm . . .
Try to get outside if only for a little while each day.
Right
I had two children under 10 years old. I had scouts and guides to get kids to. I had to help build Cub cars. I coached my son’s soccer team. I was a Customer Service Account Manager with a staff of 24 people across the country during an industry boom.
Try to get outside if only for a little while each day.
Right.
For the next month I was examined, poked, prodded, drained
of blood vial by vial ( I think there were upwards of 30 vials sized tiny to
alarmingly big). Then urine samples, some straight and then some encased in
foil to avoid the light and to crown it all, a CAT scan “with enhancement”. All
this was in an effort to determine if my problem was something other than
Parkinson’s. I wasn’t sure which alternative to cheer for.
By way of
introduction
My name is Grant. I am a husband of 25 years and counting,
father of 20 year
I am an entrepreneur by necessity. That means I’m unemployed. I am trying to grow a business which digitally restores pictures, and using pictures, old and new, I create memory movies for celebration, tribute or documenting family histories.
I am still looking for a full-time job.
I haven’t found anyone who will take a chance on me yet.
I am a person with Parkinsons.
What is it like?
I can’t relax. Even on a good day or good hour I can’t flop down on the couch and sprawl. My head won’t rest on the pillow; I have to will it so.
There are times I have to think about the steps I have to go
through to accomplish even a simple task like driving a nail or flipping a
pancake. Shoelaces can stymie me. Tying a
When in need of medication all the muscles in my body feel
like they are humming like high tension electrical lines. When the meds take
hold it is like an upwelling of relief from my core to my extremities.
I am never entirely sure that the person behind the counter
has understood what I just said until I’m given a happy meal which is WRONG;
asked to repeat what I just said; which is fine, or wait until their jaw goes
slack and they glaze over into that “waiting for further instructions” posture.
I will haul out a fistful of change to pay for something but let the cashier
pick out the required coins.
Dyskinetic bouts sometimes scare people. More often they
annoy people, like the people behind me in a movie theatre. They also make my
back and neck muscles really sore. It gets worse when I’m nervous.
I sometimes freeze. I lose my balance occasionally although
I haven’t yet fallen. I sometimes shuffle instead of walk. When I can’t walk
without shuffling, I get out my hiking staff and use its rhythmic swinging
motion to provide a tempo which enables me to walk; or I can run. Running is
easy. I’ve always hated running.
Random thoughts…
I am not considered disabled by the Ministries of such things, but it’s difficult to get through a job interview without eyebrows being raised, or glances between interviewers which say, “Hello, what have we got here?” I’m a little nervous at interviews. I was once asked if I had been drinking. I said no and tried to explain. My brain was saying, “Tell him you are on drugs and try to explain that.” The interview was too formal; not a time to try humour. But I have to work. Mortgage, College/University fees, weddings and who knows what.
I just turned 50 years old. Inside I feel 18 like any 50 year-old, I like to joke and have fun but Parkinson’s masks it and I appear stone faced, dour and often speak as though I have a mouthful of marbles. Expression takes effort. Even then, the effort might result in a grimace instead of a smile. A good belly laugh still works.
- George Washington
Carver
This is me…
I fly high performance, 2 or 4 line stunt kites.

