Every morning my ‘other’ me springs out of bed bright and early, ready to face the coming day with vigour and vim. Perhaps she’ll do a wash and hang it out to dry in the lovely light breeze, cook her loved one a tasty breakfast, or potter in the garden. Perhaps pop down the street to do a little shopping or just to socialize, before preparing a tasty midday meal, and catching up with all those little things that are always there to be done.  

Meanwhile, the ‘real’ me has struggled out of bed, with the help of the trusty bedrail, had a shower of sorts (thank God for shower chairs and handrails), before going back to get dressed. Since when have my feet been so far away from the rest of my body? By the time I have put on socks, shoes and slacks I feel I have had my workout for the day, and it’s not even breakfast time! I grab my trusty wheely, check my appointment book (once known as my social engagements book) for podiatry, hairdressing, physio, and specialist appointments. At regular times during the day the alarm on my mobile sounds, reminding me to take my medication.  

In the evening, the ‘other’ me may go dancing with her loved one or watch TV; perhaps one of the quiz shows that she participated so successfully in, before going off to bed still fresh and vibrant, turning to her love for a hug before falling asleep contentedly in his arms.  

But in reality, the only part of the ‘real’ me to dance is my dancing hand; better known as Parkinson’s tremor. I may watch some quiz shows, answering the questions and imagining what will never be; winning. Then off to bed after the last of my medications, and another strenuous workout as I struggle to roll over in bed, only to finish somewhere in between, stranded like a beached whale, puffing and panting, and I’m still not in a comfortable position.  

I squeeze my love’s hand, tell him I love him and wish him “Goodnight, God bless, and thank you Darling for all the little things you did today, as always, to make things easier for me.” 

Then, while he sleeps, I toss and turn until my legs wear themselves out and I settle to sleep, waking to dreams of what the Parkinson’s girl will be able to achieve tomorrow, whilst the other me has got up and gone out for the day with my darling family, perhaps morning tea, a movie, or a trip to the beach.  

Then I remember, with gratitude and a sense of wonderment, the myriad aids and devices to assist us in all manner of ways, streamlining what must have been such a great trial years ago. As the song reminds me, “some days are diamonds, and some days are stones.” I cannot wait to see what tomorrow may bring; above all, the loving care and concern of my love and my beautiful children – I know I’m truly blessed.  

So even on the stony days, you may find shimmers of diamond in the shape of newly shooting spring bulbs, with their promise of brighter days. Even on the cloudiest, overcast days, a chink of light breaks through briefly; so enjoy the moment.  

Reach out for support from your local Parkinson’s group or The Fight Parkinson’s Health Information Line at 1800 931 031, where understanding people are always ready to answer every query. Find a local GP who is prepared to listen and lastly, a neurologist whom you can place all your faith in.