My Lucky Day

Three years ago on St. Patrick’s Day I stood in my hotel room at 4:30 AM wearing my lucky Red Sox jersey looking much less than excited as I readied myself for the placement of wires in my brain. After the seven hour procedure I felt lucky to be awake, communicating with my family, and having a nurse almost joyously charge my sheets and gown when I peed all over myself (that was a little creepy, to be honest, but it is better than being shamed).

I felt lucky for the possibilities of decreasing my tremor, eliminating my dyskinesia, and overall improving the quality of my life with Parkinson’s. What I was not prepared for was a desire to work again.

I had retired in at age 53 in large part due to my symptoms interfering in my ability to do my work. I had planned to work until I was sixty, but life threw a wrench into that plan. But I enjoyed retirement, found ways to busy myself, and was living my best life. Then, along came Deep Brain Stimulation and these improvements were not enough. Sure I busied myself and was living a good life, but suddenly I wanted to work again. The efficacy of DBS ruined my retirement.

Tremor better…check. Dyskinesia gone…check. Living my best life…check. Enjoying retirement…not so much. So, instead of retiring at age 60, I found myself taking a job one month after my 60th birthday last year. No longer is my luck that I was able to retire and enjoy it. My luck is that I can work again. Damn DBS!