Most days now are pretty good. The Mirapex and Co Q-10 seem to be working. My energy level and coordination are greatly improved. My tremors and muscle tension are much less bothersome. Most of the time, that’s enough. I can go on with life, enjoying my more "normal" self again.
There are occasional moments, though. Moments when I'm suddenly struck by the reality that this recovery is all fake. Any "repairs" I see are pharmaceutically induced and very temporary. They will only last as long as the medicine in my system. When the meds are gone, so are the improvements.
Then, there's the scariest thought that jumps out at me now and then. — Every day, a few more of the dopamine-producing cells in my brain are dying off. THAT thought takes my breath away and gives me a chilly split-second of panic every time. "Quick! Someone! Just find a way to stop the progress of the disease! I'm not even asking for a cure—just let me stay where I am!"
How many cells are already dead? Nobody knows—maybe 50-80%. How quickly are the remaining cells dying? Nobody knows that either. There is one detail, though, that seems to be pretty universally accepted. One day, there won't be enough brain cells to produce enough chemicals for the prescription to enhance. One day, this medicine won’t work for me any more. Then it will be time to try something else from the long list of available treatments.
But I do know one thing more. I can't just sit around and wait for my world to end. God has given me every day to enjoy and live to the fullest. My times are in His hands and He has a purpose for EVERYTHING I experience. I can trust Him with my whole life.
"Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me, for in you my soul takes refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.
I cry out to God Most High, to God, who fulfills His purpose for me." —Psalm 57:1-2
"For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” —Ephesians 2:10
Sorry if this post sounds bleak — it isn’t really. I don't feel that way most of the time, but I’ve learned that these kinds of thoughts are easier to deal with and much less scary when they’re brought out into the light.
Thank you for your prayers and concern. Family and friends mean unbelievably more now than ever before.