6. Diagnosis: Parkinson’s Disease

The new neurologist examined me. At her instruction, I walked up and down the hallway for her observation. I closed my eyes and touched my fingertips to my nose. She tapped on my kneecaps with her little rubber hammer, and stood behind me pulling my shoulders toward her, before releasing them to observe just how I bounced back to an upright position.

The doctor performed a few more “tests” before announcing her diagnosis. “You have Parkinson’s disease,” she said. Then, “It’s not going to kill you. Lots of people live with it. Some, for decades.” she added, as she handed me a prescription – and a charge slip to give to her business administrator on my way out.

I had spent less time being examined than I had spent in this doctor’s waiting room. No blood or urine had been collected. No invasive procedures had been necessary. She had simply observed me and, by the training which deemed her a Movement Disorder Specialist, she had rendered a diagnosis that would change my life forever.

The doctor’s “complete” diagnosis was young onset Parkinson’s disease. I didn’t feel very young. I left her office feeling dazed and confused. She had offered very little in the way of information about the disease – and I had no idea where I might find support to help me deal with it. …Not from her, apparently.