8. A diagnosis can’t stop the daily grind

 

I had sworn my parents and my best friend to secrecy until I could find an appropriate time to tell my sons, and then my sisters, in person.

It was my boss who had insisted that I see a doctor in the first place. We had been friends for thirty years, so, of course, I took him into confidence as well.

I had one last shot at the Series 22 exam, a tricky 100 question test for which studying had become the bane of my existence. Unable to focus on much more than the diagnosis, I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. I wasn’t sleeping well and was coming down with something.

I had learned that my boss, who had somehow decided that it was in my best interest, had called my co-workers into his office and disclosed my Parkinson’s diagnosis to the entire group, I was furious! I was exhausted. I was sick. And I was scared. I begged to postpone the test until the following week, but my boss said no.

The next day, as I sat at a computer in the controlled testing environment, I was shaking so badly that the proctor slipped up behind me and placed a sweater around my shoulders. I completed the exam, feeling miserable, yet fairly confident of a passing grade. I gave directions to the computer and waited for my score. When the number appeared, I was stunned to see that I had failed the exam by one point.