My stupid old head is acting up in very strange ways. I am not depressed or anything. But I think I may have Parkinson’s Disease just like my father before me.
I have been reading up on Parkinson’s since my father was diagnosed with it four years ago. I have learned enough about it to think I may have it without absolutely proving I have Munchausen Syndrome or am simply a very bad hypochondriac. When I thought I had certain conditions before and went to the doctor about symptoms, most of the the time I was right.
Last night I had massive problems with motor control. My legs kept kicking and randomly jerking all night long, especially the calf muscles below both knees. I have had similar random-movement jerking of my shoulder muscles in my upper back and sudden, painful uncontrolled stretching of the muscles in my lower arms. I don’t know why they call it a Charlie horse, but Chuck has been living in my arms for a while. I have banged against brick walls with my hands and elbows at particularly inopportune times, and came away with bruises for my trouble. Walking has increasingly become the same stumbling shuffle I observed in my father a couple or years ago. It is bad enough that my dog has been complaining that I don’t keep pace when she’s walking me on her leash.
My talking dog has even been involved in the strange hallucinations and partial visions that I have been having. It is a common thing for Parkinson’s sufferers to see people they know who aren’t really there. And my sightings of the ghost dog, or the ghost dog’s disembodied walking back end are that same kind of visions that Parkinson’s patients often report.
Today, while watching voting-tally updates, I kept blacking out, leading to brief, vivid dreams of people I don’t know and have never seen before saying a weird, random sentence to me or to each other. Like the portly Chinese woman with lots of powdered make-up and bright red lips saying, “You shouldn’t even be thinking about tigers!” Followed by me being startled awake.
The awakeness-startling is itself a problem. I keep hearing hammer blows knocking on the outside walls of the house near my bedroom window. And that is on the second story, high enough to realistically be declared hammer safe. The noise has to actually be coming into my stupid head from the stupid inside.
I know I should be going to the doctor to find out for sure. But Covid is out there in a very big way, especially in Texas doctors’ waiting rooms. Since the disease is incurable if I have it, it can certainly wait until after the pandemic is over. In the meantime, writing this post is becoming difficult, and life has become an even more complex adventure.