Mr Parkinson and I are not at all on friendly terms.
I give him the cold shoulder and he gives me the shakes.
But if he thinks he can make me freeze he’s got a lot to learn,
Sell it to me how he likes I will never willingly apply the brakes!
In fact, he quite often tries to sell me things, things like Lewy bodies,
But I’m only interested if one is better than my own,
And then there are free radicals but they’re not such a bargain,
Because when I look in the mirror, looking back is some old crone!
Then there’s the treatment that’s supposed to help me cope.
It’s true it gets me going and I can put on quite a spurt,
But when the dear old blood pressure decides it’s going to drop,
Why then I fall, and that same cold shoulder, can really start to hurt.
Still, there’s dopamine and dopamine agonists, they always make me laugh,
Because the names seem somehow to suggest some dopey agony aunt,
But what wrong advice would they give me if they tended to suggest,
That I try to manage without them, it’s impossible…I can’t!
However, should Mr Parkinson reason that this gives him the edge,
And that he will be grand master, and I, his lowly minion,
Why then how wrong he is to feel so comfortable with the idea,
That I will ever allow myself to submit to his dominion!
So although I sense that my aggressor stands ready to attack,
In the same way that Dionysius hung his sword above Damocles,
For the simple reason that I dare to reject his unwelcome advances,
And absolutely refuse to be defined by his odious and truculent disease!
But, although there is to be no humiliating surrender,
Nevertheless, I must do what I can to contribute to our mutual felicity,
And focus on what can be done rather than on what can’t,
In the hope that Mr Parkinson will not attempt to gain dominion by duplicity!
But alone and awake in the black dread of night my darkest fear comes calling,
That I am imprisoned inside a useless body with no time off for good behaviour,
Yet terrified of being unable to communicate that I can bear this life no longer,
So must I be condemned to live when Death could be my saviour?
But I must cast dread fear aside and give credit where it’s due,
Because Mr Parkinson has introduced me to so many people who care,
So how can I rage against him even though I know he’s stealing from me?
When his rotten disease has blessed me with such true and caring friendship…a quality so rare!