Bitch (pardon my language)

For you to understand Ken’s determination in this story, you must know that I use language more colorful than Ken’s. OK, maybe a lot more colorful than Ken’s. Words that are not socially acceptable rarely (and I mean rarely) cross his lips.

In April, just about a month after Ken’s diagnosis, we took a trip to New Jersey. Our oldest daughter and her husband were having a joint 30th birthday party. Our youngest daughter also joined us on the trip. Ken did not want to use a wheelchair at the airport, so we walked. In order to save some steps and energy we took the moving walkway. I went first in case he fell forward, and our daughter followed him. Immediately he started swaying and grabbing for the handrail, which he didn’t want to touch because he is a germ nerd. Our daughter held him from behind, and I grabbed his water bottle and small roller bag from his hands. Grateful that we got to the end of the walkway with everyone still standing, we continued. Soon we came upon another moving walkway. I looked at Ken and said “walk or ride?” He looked straight at the moving walkway and said “Ride, I’m going to make that walkway my BITCH.”

It was at that moment I knew and understood his determination. Just as his doctor said, “Ken has Parkinson’s, Parkinson’s doesn’t have him. Ken has taken these words to heart.