Retired

Well this last run was fun, but I have to admit I saw myself going on for a few more years and not just a few more months this time.

I did get about a year extra of better control via medication and exercise, but by the time the holidays of 2009 came knocking and that day I slipped and hit the car with the back of my head (again don’t choose soft spots on the head when attempting to cause damage to your vehicle), that “point of no return” had been reached.

You get a significant honeymoon period on medication for Parkinson’s disease that can keep the disease “at bay” in such a manner that people don’t realize anything is wrong. Of course to keep up the appearance of being in generally good health one must continually increase the dosage of medications. But this can only go on for only so long. And these meds don’t come without a price on the body and head for using them. The side effects make the “cure” often as bad as the disease.

Instead of continuing to further medicate myself at levels that merely “keep up appearances,” I have chosen an approach that will allow me to take medication for longer periods of time with milder symptom control lest I quickly reach the zenith of Parkie pill popping and have few alternatives left.

This means that I have to settle with being able to do a little less. Some things have to go. This blog is one.

The book? We are in limbo right at the end because of an animated sequence that was to be drawn in on the side of the pages of the printed edition (yes, there was an e-book edition being prepared too) that was to be completed over December. That never happened. And due to some public promotion involved that now cannot be done I am up in the air on what approach to take with its release. That will be announced when some sort of conclusion is come to.

The end of my writing is not at hand, however. I have been involved in another project all this time that is far more natural for me to participate in. But it has been a hobby of sorts and part of an agreement that I formalize now before all of you, and Bad Kitty:

I solemly swear to participate in my retirement, even though I am 43. Retirement is good for my health. This does not not mean I stop living. But it does mean that I stop what I have been doing up till now that has kept me from living fully.

I solemly swear to use my resources wisely, to use my energies, my wisdom, my humor, etc. in order to do accomplish this purpose of living life to the full.

I solemly swear to enjoy my life and be happy in whatever circumstances I am in.

I solemly swear not to give up any fights just because they cannot be won in my particular case. I will continue the fight even though in the end I may not personally hear the applause, may not be the recipient of the award, may not get the credit. Someday, somewhere someone will. And I am happy to be one of a million threads that helps that someone to finally hear the applause, receive the reward, and get all the credit when the time comes for the fight to be over. After everything has been done by so many, I feel somebody will reach this point. Somebody, just not me. And that is good enough for me.

I also solemly swear to remain a Bad Kitty, especially each Friday of every week. Should you find your ferns half-eaten and the rest torn to shreads I admit this here, but only this once…it was me. Who clawed the priceless antique to the point of it now having a price…sadly a price below warehouse costs? That was me. The torn curtain in the living room? Me. The half-eaten bird on your pillow you will wake up to later this week? Me again. And who somehow managed to get your car parked up in a tree in the front yard?

Don’t look at me. I can’t reach the gas petals and look above the steering wheel at the same time.

I know. I’ve tried.

PHOTO © 2010 by Judy Vonfeldt-Walkey. All rights reserved.

Me when I don't dye my hairs on the head (which I hit with a car).

Note to everyone within the sound of my voice (or in view of my blog): For best results never hit your car with the back of your head.

Yep, that is exactly what happened to me right after the last time we chatted. I was shopping for..was it Thanksgiving? Christmas? Kwanzaa? Who knows? I hit my head. You expect me to remember details? Sheesh!

Anyway that is all over. I am up and around. But I have slowed. Not enough to keep me down, but enough to put me back a ways on several things, most notably a very important part of the book.

There is the cute (or maybe horrifying, it all depends on the way you look at it) addition I wanted for the printed edition of the book, namely an animated sequence having to do with a “running joke” in the book. Unfortunately before it could be completed I had my little accident.

WHAMO!

What was I doing when that happened? Feeding the poor? Tending to the needy? Paying my cable bill?

Anyway, I am very behind on that part of the project—and I am not well. Did I mention I have Parkinson’s disease?

Oh yeah, and narcolepsy…

…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Yeah, that’s new. And it’s a load of laughs, let me tell you that!

Did I tell you I had Parkinson’s disease? No? Well I do. That is, I think I do.

Anyway, long story short I am currently working on rehabilitation…some of it in the form of Wii-hab! I am so good at Wii-bowling and Wii-golf! I do suck in a way that makes me sad when it comes to Wii-tennis….very sad, indeed.

I hit my head recently. Did I tell you that I have Parkinson’s disease? Yeah, I’m a big fan of Michael J. Fox.

Anyway, to wrap up, since the book is one of those new “presto-chango” there-it-is-instantly kind of things (yes, this is the future; yes, it is the way things are being done now; yes, you are behind in the times; no, I don’t have a puppy, but I sure would love one), it has to wait where it is until I can get myself better under control…that is my health…I am not well. I keep falling asleep…

…and I don’t have a puppy.

Did I mention I hit my head and have Parkinson’s and narcolepsy?

Who are you people, anyway?

While holiday shopping a few days ago, Carl suffered a moderate blow to the back of his head while attempting to get into the front seat of a car, a lack of balance and control caused by a momentary “off” period Carl was experiencing with his Parkinson’s mediations.

Though still a little sore, Carl is more or less his old self (which may or may not be good news for his family members gathering for Thanksgiving), should recover fully, and is expected to have no complications resulting from the incident…except a slightly sick sense of humor.

But he has to take extra time off in order to be fully ready for the release of his book in January, so it was decided that he not return to blogging until after the first of the New Year of 2010.

Carl apologizes to his readers of this blog for having to postpone some previously-announced posts to another time, but thanks everyone for understanding and wishes all a most blessed, safe, and happy holiday season.

It isn’t a surprise that often things don’t go as well as you plan when you have PD. How do you deal with yourself and your world when Bad Kitty attacks and makes things worse?

You pace yourself. You give yourself time to do things. Oh yes this applies to me to,and let me tell you that my current hiatus has come just in time to help me deal with my current health that is not being the most cooperative. 

This happens to everyone, regardless if you deal with PD, a chronic condition, or you’re just another average Joe on the street. We run down and need time to recharge. It’s important to recharge from a disease once in a while. Therefore making time for breaks in life is doubly important if you have Parkinson’s disease. Holidays and family gatherings can be draining but with a little extra planning you can turn them into an oasis for recharging, for rest, for taking stock.

The Secret of the Hiatus 

Bad Kitty should by now know better than to make things worse for me. The more difficult it is to deal with my Parkinson’s, the less likely I was be well enough to write about Bad Kitty. So one might say that Bad Kitty tends to attack itself without realizing it and so I have to make plans to deal with this situation when it occurs. 

We can become our own worst Bad Kitty if we with PD are not careful to give ourselves time to accomplish things. Remember we are not as fast as we once were, we don’t have as much energy as we used to, and the ability to do what was once did with litte effort is often far more challenging than we ever thought it could be. 

Writers like me who are no longer part of the general workforce, who are in their homes practically everyday of the week and don’t have to go into an office environment like everyone else—well, yeah, we’re lucky, but often we get mistaken for living on a constant vacation of sorts. 

So when we need a break or go on vacation or holiday we don’t use words that most people do to describe our getting away. We go on hiatus—we break from the routine. Using this term, along with the fact that it is the most accurate in the English language to describe what I am doing, allows those who do not view what I do as work to not feel insulted as they might when I announce I need some time off. 

“Time off?” some might say. “What do you need time of from? You’re home everyday!” 

Thus I go on “hiatus,” even if I don’t actually go anywhere.

Hiatus From PD

When you have a chronic condition, an illness that is always with you day and night, regardless if you work or not, you still need a hiatus from that chronic disease. Yes, if you has the Parkinson’s then you need to take a “hiatus” from it every now and then. 

Now while we cannot expect to get a literal temporary cure or find a way to formally cease the symptoms we must endure, we can take it a little more easier on ourselves during these planned hiatus times. We can change our schedule around or refresh ourselves by making some drastic change to the ordinary for a little while. 

Whatever you do, make your hiatus a way to recharge yourself for those regular days up ahead. A break from the norm, even a little one, can do a lot to bring a bit of relief to what can often be a fitful existence with Parkinson’s. 

Don’t let Bad Kitty have all the fun either. Go out and make some for youself.

Me? Sick? Well, not really. I don’t have swine flu. I’m not down with a fever or anything like that. In fact, I’m not really sick. 

I don’t see myself as sick anymore. Sure, this is a disease. But do I qualify as “sick”? Maybe you have the “sniffles” or have the dreaded “walking pneumonia” (is there a “crawling,” “lying down,” “jogging” type as well?) or have the mumps or enjoy watching Lost in Space reruns 24/7. If this is you, then I consider you “sick.”

 But me? I’m not sick.

Am I run down? No. I’m fine. Now if I have been recently trampled by a herd of cattle frightened by another thunderstorm for the umpteenth time or by my wife in our car because she just found out I’ve been unfaithful to her (I’m not married, this is just an example), then I would consider myself “run down.” But now? Me? Nope. 

Then what am I? Under the weather? We are all under the weather. Unless we are astronauts flying above the surface of the planet, which in that case we would be “above the weather,” then that would be different. And if you were flying up in a space ship racing above the earth I guess you could have the flu but technically still be “above the weather” even though you were “under the weather.” Or is it the other way around? 

So no. I am not sick. I have Parkinson’s disease and sometimes it is harder to deal with than other times, but I am not sick nor run down nor under the weather. I just have Parkinson’s disease. 

True, as of late I am not doing that well with PD. Like others with the young-onset variety I have horrible pain in the soles of my feet. But I still have soul. I have a constant Charlie horse in my left calf muscle, but my inner child is somewhat disappointed that I neither have a real horse named “Charlie” or a newborn cow. I am also fatigued beyond description, but I am tired of dealing with that. 

So what am I, really? Complaining? Not really. Depressed? That would be a welcome change, but alas, no (which is somewhat depressing now that I think about it). And I don’t want to go see any one of my doctors again. Not right now. I am sick of that, if you ask me. 

But me? Sick? Not really. Dressed only in underwear as I write this? Likely. But you’re probably dressed in the same thing as you read this. 

Does that make us “sick”? Maybe, perhaps to some people. Funny how my discussing undergarments might classify me as sick, but my disease, well that is hard to say. 

Does anybody know? Does anybody care? Not really. And I don’t really care that there might not be anybody who does or doesn’t. Not right now. 

Why not? Because I don’t feel well. And why not? Hmm, maybe I’m coming down with something. 

Hmm, come to think of it, maybe I am sick.

This posting comes at a perfect time. Carl is not actually sick, but is beginning his Thanksgiving vacation. Except for Bad Kitty this Friday and the special Bad Kitty parade of videos coming next Wednesday, Carl’s posts will stop for a while until he returns from eating fattening foods and digests them.

Carl returns to blogging on Friday December 11 with an all-new Bad Kitty post. And if you are signed up for the newsletter you will hear from Carl on Monday November 23^rd for the first issue of IHTP in your email (so sign up if you need a little more Carl between now and Turkey Day). 

Till then, everyone have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving.

Exerpt from I Has the Parkinson’s courtesy of Bogus Productions and Lulu, Inc. Copyright © 2009 by Carl Hernz. All rights reserved.

One of the reasons it took so long for me to get diagnosed correctly (approximately 20 years and 13 doctors), is that Parkinson’s, like the unique differences between most snowflakes and Bad Kitties, never acts the same from individual to individual. 

If you’re a fellow Parkie, you know what I’m talking about. We can talk for hours and find striking differences between each other’s symptomatic profiles. It’s not like a lot of diseases out there where “one size fits all.” 

My Example 

Resting tremor, while often a tell-tale sign of Parkinson’s disease, is not as outstanding in my case as the average person who has Parkinson’s disease. For me it is bradykinesia and rigidity that stand out more.

Don’t misunderstand me. I do have a resting limb tremor but it is mild by comparison, and almost invisible under my meds. What is really affected by the PD tremor is my jaw and tongue, but people often overlook this or fail to look for tremor anywhere else but in the arms and hands. To confuse the matter I also have kinetic tremor or tremor with action, and it is often very pronounced. 

Here is where a specialist in movement disorders is important to consult in addition to one’s regular neurologist or primary physician. Not everyone with PD has tremor, in fact up to 25% of those with Parkinson’s disease do not have tremor. 

And though action tremor is generally diagnosed as “essential tremor” or ET (often called “benign tremor” even though it can be very disabling itself, so I see very little about this cousin of PD that warrants the description of “benign”), action tremor also occurs in some persons with Parkinson’s. Many people are often misdiagnosed as having ET because doctors fail to take into consideration the other symptoms of Parkinson’s in making their evaluation or worse, as in my case, they look at the age of the patient and mistake “unlikely” to mean “impossible” in younger persons. 

So it’s good to take a review of the symptoms of PD from time to time. Don’t expect everyone with PD to have the same problems or to have all their symptoms acting up all the time. It’s unpredictable, and it’s equally challenging to diagnose because it doesn’t always follow the book or look like what it seems to be from the outside or at first blush. 

Don’t let Bad Kitty fool you. He may look sweet at first glance, but when you turn your head and least expect him to, he’ll pounce.

It could also be that the newly published scientific law known as herecumus jimcantorium,or the principle that hurricanes are somehow attracted to Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel, is now holy writ in the world of meteorology. If Jim Cantore is in your town, you should leave because a hurricane is coming. It’s that simple. It is how it works here in Pensacola.

Thanks to all who showed concern via email messages, prayers, and the like. We were definitely spared a potential disaster. Of course, this may have been somewhat of a downer for my Aunt China who called me this morning to ask in her heavy Spanish accent: “Ju didn’t dies?”

No, I am happy to report to all well-wishers, we didn’t dies.

Forecast path as of 11/8/09 @ 10pm CST

Okay, so it isn’t cool to make fun of a hurricane since few of them have a sense of humor…at least this one because it appears that Ida didn’t like my post and wants to stop by and “discuss” the matter further.

As of this writing, Pensacola is forecast to be the center of landfall for Ida which should come across as at least a Level 1 storm with sustained winds of 75mph.

I will keep folks posted via Twitter as long as I can (@carlhernz), but posts to the blog will be suspended until further notice.

Hope to see you folks on the other end. It’s all a part of the experience of life.

Packing up the Sinemet…wrapping up Bad Kitty in plastic and masking tape, etc.

"Laura's Booty Dance" by Unfocused Mike on Flickr

As most of my readers know, I live in Pensacola, Florida. And if you are up on your news—especially the weather—you know that I am in an area that has the potential to become the site of a disaster once again. Tropical storm (or maybe by the time you read this it will be “hurricane”) Ida churns powerfully about in the Gulf of Mexico to bring hurricane season to a smashing close of a finale, having the last word as usual with Mother Nature doing he butt-wiggling “I Told You So, I Told You So, I Told You So” dance. 

Remind me why I moved here to Florida again? 

As of this writing there is little to worry about since Ida is not expected to still be a hurricane at the time of landfall (which she may never make in my area at all). She is expected, however, to intensify just before she enters the chilly waters right off the coast of Florida. 

For those of you who are weather geeks like me, this is an exciting event to monitor as we watch nature’s most power storm get stunned while traversing over waters too cold to supply further energy just to get swept in by sudden cold air currents, and eventually bring not only torrential rains to my area but eventual winter weather to the eastern part of our country. 

For those of you who are laypersons, I offer the following “primary reader” version: 

The Silly Hurricane That Thought It Could

There once was a terrible hurricane named Ida. Like all hurricanes, Ida needed warm water to keep her alive as a horrible storm. So Ida chose the warm waters off of Central America and the Caribbean to grow big and strong as she headed to Carl’s house to blow it down. 

Blowing down Carl’s house would make Ida a happy hurricane, a very happy and fulfilled hurricane indeed! 

Though Ida was strong, she was also stupid. She had not read her calendar to see that Turkey Day was coming (and we all know how cold it can get right before Turkey Day), and Ida didn’t realize that the waters by Carl’s house were now as cold as a bastard’s family reunion. 

Ida also didn’t see that Old Man Winter was waking up and planning to visit Carl on the same day she was coming. Old Man Winter visits Pensacola every year, but that’s about as far south in Florida he is willing to go (he has a warrant out for his arrest in both Miami and Key West for some stupid things he did after consuming too many rum and Cokes…So he hangs around P’cola for a month or two before and after Christmas, living off of Whataburgers® and Bushwackers). 

So when Ida came close to Carl’s house, Old Man Winter—slightly intoxicated from his first few Bushwackers of the season—accidentally bumped into her causing him to vomit all over her. 

If you are a tropical storm that relies on warm summer waters to keep your fumes going, the last thing you want is for Old Man Winter to vomit on you. 

Worse than getting covered in puke, Old Man Winter also brought H1N1 with him. Ida has not been vaccinated for H1N1. In fact, she could have received the swine flu shot for free when she visited Nicaragua earlier but at that time she thought, “Nah, I’m never going to get exposed to the swine flu…unless Old Man Winter vomits all over me from drinking too many Bushwackers. But if I get to Pensacola first and destroy all the Bushwackers…”

Shame, shame, Ida. That’s what you get for not planning ahead and thinking you are more powerful than the unforeseen and slightly intoxicated forces of nature. Maybe you’ll remember to get your flu shot next time before you set off on a hellish crusade…oh wait, there won’t be a next time for you.

 In the corner, watching all this play out, stands Mother Nature, wiggling her butt at Ida as she gleefully offers up another “I Told You So, I Told You So, I Told You So” dance.

PHOTO: Laura’s Booty Dance by Unfocused Mike © 2006, all rights reserved.

From the chapter BAD KITTY:

There is just so much you can take from Parkinson’s disease before you begin to realize that it has a mind of its own and will do pretty much what it damn well pleases. 

This, of course, I came to recognize as a supreme truth of the universe. It was like being exposed to transcendence that I could finally put into words, as if all the answers to life’s mysteries had been given to me in the whisper of an angel, something like an epiphany once forbidden to mortals but now granted to me from the very throne of God, or like being able to sit in on next fall’s television program scheduling meetings among NBC executives.

And this ultimate truth, of what does it consist? 

Parkinson’s disease is like the last pet cat I owned, Austin. 

The house revolved around Austin. Austin was the sun and I was a comet on a strange orbit that went in and out and around Austin at his whim, losing bits and pieces of me to this “sun” each and every time I came around.

 Let me explain.

Austin disturbed my regular sleeping patterns. He used to crash through my bedroom door with a loud thud every morning around 4:50 AM as if he were a cop from vice and I was some drug dealer trying to hide out on a Sealy mattress covered by a comforter from Sears. The cop would jump up onto my chest and proceed to question me with an onslaught of “mews” until I got up and fed him his breakfast. 

As soon as I was used to this disturbance of my slumber, Austin would change his habits and break in an hour earlier, or twice a night, or not at all (which would make me wake up when I suddenly realized I wasn’t having my sleep disrupted).

Austin also found it sport to find ways to trip me. No longer was this the nice kitty who once liked to be pet until a constant purr arose from his warmed heart. No, now the heart was gone, and all that was left was a dark hole wherein resideth evil, from which nothing could escape, nay not even light. 

To further illustrate: I would be minding my own human business walking from one room to the next when Austin would leap out from hiding and pounce upon one of my feat, attaching himself to me for but an instant of a second. This would not be near enough time for even a demon from the bowels of Hell to engage in a machination or two, but it was enough for Austin to plant his vampire teeth into my ankle and plant a bite. 

When you aim an axe at the foot of a tree and chop, should you be surprised that it falls down? Austin was. Regardless of the fact that he had just gnawed through my tree trunk with a chainsaw, he acted surprised when I would scream out in pain and fall to the floor with a crash, usually catching his tail or at least a paw of his under me in the process. 

How could this be? Austin would scream out in startled agony as I tumbled on top of him. For what reason should this idiot be falling on the floor wincing in pain atop innocent me? 

Have you ever fallen onto a cat? It is worse than a car accident or a plane crash. And if you survive either one, the vehicle doesn’t then screech in your ear and scratch at you in response for being involved in its own self-constructed demise. A cat will. 

You nincompoop! Austin’s response to me would be. How dare you fall upon me? I don’t care that you were startled into cardiac arrest when I pounced upon you from my hidden base behind the sofa as I then stuck my fangs into your fleshy ankle in order to draw blood. That is no reason for you to fall on me—so take that! MEOWRR!

Yes, Austin had grown from a nice kitty into a bad kitty, an unpredictable kitty, a kitty from which there would be no escape. 

How like Parkinson’s disease, I had thought to myself. The cat acted as if they were both one and the same. 

In fact, they could be, I then told myself. It has just dawned on me that not only have they never been photographed together, neither Austin nor my Parkinson’s disease was ever in the same room at the same time. 

I then knew I was on to something.

Exerpt from I Has the Parkinson’s courtesy of Bogus Productions and Lulu, Inc. Copyright © 2009 by Carl Hernz. All rights reserved.