I was once told that my life appeared to be like some kind of film. Actually, I’ve been told many times my life appears to be some kind of major work of drama. Personally, I’m not convinced it would make the most riveting piece of action, however, it’s certainly never dull. Whilst others complain of the monotony of their lives, I often find myself longing for a quiet weekend when not much goes on.
Such was the plan for this weekend just passed. Finally. Some nice weather and no major plans aside from a trip into the city on Saturday night for dinner to celebrate Mr D’s birthday. The sun was shining on Saturday morning, and as I drank a cup of coffee on the deck in the Spring air, Mr D sent me a message on my ‘phone to ask if I fancied a bike ride along our local cycle path. It was 0730. Good idea, I thought. We can have our ride, I’ll be back by ten thirty and the weekend can begin.
It was an idyllic day. We were having a great time. Mindful of his heart and wary of him ‘overdoing it’ Mr D stayed close by my side. For my part, slow yet steady, on I went. Hard work for me, yet important nontheless. It’s good for him to ride with me because I slow him down. Especially since his cardiac arrest last year. Think Christian Ericksson, but for 30 minutes. Let’s hear it for immediate response first aid, without which neither of them would be here.
Yet I digress. We cycled for around twenty four kilometers, then as we returned close to home I said I’d go home and not cycle all the way back to his house. I begged him to not go too fast. He promised he’d “be fine.”
I’ve heard that before.
I cycled round a corner toward my house. I’d been gone less than two minutes. My mobile phone rang. It was Mr D. His defibrillator had gone off. I got him to tell me where he was and as I was close to my house I ran up my drive and leapt into my car. I found him sat on a pedestrian overbridge that runs across the local expressway. Hardly a convenient spot. An ambulance arrived and he was taken to hospital. Thankfully I could go with him.
Let’s cut a long story short. Despite discovering the device and not the himself was at fault he had to stay in hospital for two nights. He was climbing the walls wanting to get out, yet we understood that we were lucky he got treatment at all. I have friends overseas that will be paying huge medical bills off for what seems like forever.
What does this have to do with Parkinson’s? Well not much on the face of it, but it serves as a great reminder to me at least that life is precious. Sadly often too short. I was in terror as I rushed off to find Mr D, terror that he would be taken from me before we’d even got a real chance to begin. It reminds us all that there are things out there other than Parkinson’s. What we suffer is a blight on our days, yet with exercise and medication we can expect no limit on our lifespan, though we might find it hampered somewhat.
I am grateful to live in country with healthcare that is freely available to all. I am grateful that Mr D is alive and well. I am resolute that I will not allow my health to stop me from being me.
Until next time, Kitty.
First twenty signups will receive a handwritten postcard from Kitty and Emma. Get going now! 🙂
Kitty Fitton is a motivational speaker, MC and comedian. She is also a full-time blogger and writer. She is mother to four small people and was very cross to discover she had Parkinson’s Disease.
Find out more at her personal site below.
Emma Kyriacou is a real-life ninja. Taking up Karate to help fight her Parkinson’s Disease, she’s co-founder of Good Moves and is passionate about promoting exercise to improve mobility and neuroplasticity. (Is that a word? It should be.)
Find out more at her personal site below.