Dang

“Well, dang it.” That sentence was all my husband said as the doctor left the room after confirming Ken had Parkinson’s Disease. “Well, dang it.” just like that, no exclamation mark, just a statement, the confirmation of our months of wondering and his extensive research.

November 2022 was the first time a physician mentioned the word Parkinson’s. A long wait followed for a referral first scheduled for May 2023 but moved to March 2023, thanks to being asked to be put on a wait list in case of a cancellation. After the initial November appointment Ken researched and studied Parkinson’s. He watched videos and read and read and read. I did nothing. It wasn’t that I had my head in the sand—it was just a word that had simply been thrown out, one word among millions of words. One word that attached a name to the symptoms we had been observing. But after two hours of questions and Ken performing tasks…simple tasks that he actually often performed like a novice learning a new skill…the word was spoken out loud, by an expert in the field this time — Parkinson’s. After speaking it into the world, the doctor left the room to consult with a colleague. She indicated she was sure we had questions and that they would return to answer them. Answer them?! How could she possibly have time to answer all our questions?

She returned with her colleague and their response to each question (and I am not kidding or exaggerating) was “I can’t say.” or “Everyone is different.” or “Everyone progresses differently and responds to medication differently.” “Really, you can’t answer any of our questions?” was the thought in my head. I left that appointment stunned: remember my lack of reading and research? Ken, however, was more stoic as he had already diagnosed himself and was open to accepting the reality.

It was about noon when we finished that appointment. We went to a restaurant to have lunch and process. I vividly remember sitting there looking at each other and at the same time saying to each other “I’m so sorry.” Puzzled, we took a second to try and figure out what the other person meant. I told him I was so sorry he had Parkinson’s, and he said he was sorry I had to deal with a husband with Parkinson’s.

”Well, dang it.” I guess that really is love. Each one putting the other person’s life ahead of your own.

Let me tell you how this started. In March 2020 the COVID pandemic hit the United States. Facing this great unknown, we didn’t go far from home. In April 2020 we started taking morning walks. As we walked down our neighborhood street, I looked at my husband and said, “You don’t swing your right arm when you walk.” He seemed surprised by my statement and replied, “Yes, I do.” After several more steps and being aware of his right arm, he said, “Well, I can.” I’m telling you his attempt to walk and swing his right arm was awkward. Then he said, “It’s just more comfortable here.” “Here” meant his right arm was bent at the elbow resting about waist high.

I am now hypersensitive to the position of his arm and the lack of usage. In my head I thought he had had an undiagnosed mini stroke. In April 2022 I went to his physical with him. His doctor had been watching a heart murmur and decided it was time to check that more closely. In July 2022 he had an ICD (implanted cardioverter defibrillator) placed in his chest to help increase his ejection fraction. At his November 2022 physical we finally addressed his arm. His primary care physician did a few simple tests in the office and announced…“ You have a progressive movement disorder; Parkinson’s is probably the most well-known.”

”Well, dang it.”