On being overwhelmed by Parkinson's

On being overwhelmed by Parkinson’s

and sometimes

you just feel totally overwhelmed by it all

because it’s all such hard work,

such a struggle day and night,

day and night

the immense effort involved

in putting your shoes on or even

‘slipping’ your feet into wellies or slippers

putting your trousers on or taking them off

or getting your arm in a sleeve

which somehow contrives never to be

where it should be

then you can’t get the zip of your coat to engage

and you’re shaking again, you’re fucking shaking

and it’s all too much

because you never get enough sleep

tossing and turning, tossing and turning

restless brain, restless body

you’re always tired

and turning over in bed requires so much effort

and getting out of bed to go for a pee is so much effort

and so one day you just break down and sob

deep deep deep sobs from deep within you

while you are standing in the kitchen

to make a sandwich for lunch

though you can barely stand up at all

or you’re getting out of the shower

which you feel like you could stay in forever

and the tears are spilling from your face

as you tell yourself not to be so pathetic

what’s the matter with you

even though you know it’s okay to cry

it’s good to cry

and just now you can’t remember

that sometimes you can laugh at it

knowing that you may often walk

like a constipated duck

but you know you are not coping

and you feel as if you will never cope again

but you keep telling yourself

‘just get on with it, it is what it is’

and ‘there are lots of people much worse off than you’

and other such platitudes

and you remember how people keep telling you

you’re looking well, how are you,

and you say, as always,

‘good and bad, bad and good,

could be better, could be worse,’

and you know damn well you are not well

you will never be well again

whatever being well really means

I mean how many of us really are well

and all those things you took for granted

that were once so easy to do

you didn’t even think about them

but now you often shuffle along

dragging your feet

like you are 95 years old

and using a stick

and you’re crying again

it’s the grief, it’s the grief, it’s the grief

welling up from deep within you

well, you’re told it’s grief

and you hope it’s not self-pity

you hope you are not pathetic

and you hope you won’t burst into tears

in front of a stranger on the street

in a shop when buying some bread

or with anyone not knowing

the mess in your head

and all you can do is to try

to wrestle negative thoughts to the ground

and rise up more positive

to love what you have

to accept it all, with patience,

to see the good where there is good

and just carry on through another broken day

and another broken night...

© Dave Urwin January 2023