How can I prepare my body, mind and soul so my time walking the Camino solo will be a fulfilling experience? How does anyone prepare for the Camino and the continual walking day after day in any and all elements Mother Nature might throw my way. And most importantly, how does this Person with Parkinson prepare after knowing some of the intimate encounters one can have with fatigue, blisters, tendinitis and generally dealing with a degenerative neurological disease while wandering the well trodden path across northern Spain..
About 20 some years ago Charlie and I were day hiking towards the Ingraham glacier on Mt, Rainier when we met up with a group of climbers, the youngest age 65, resting at their base camp before their summit attempt that night. I was particularly interested in visiting with the sole woman in the group about her training. She commented that the best way to train is by " doing it". She walked several miles each day near her home. On weekends she hiked steeper and longer trails and practiced technical skills as the terrain provided. "No crosstraining? Weights? Swimming? Cardio?" I inquired. "I just walk" came the answer from this experienced climber.
Walking the Camino with "the Family" taught me that practice was needed in some specialized skills and techniques. I will be "cross training" for Camino 2. Primary focus has been tilt the wine glass slowly towards the person pouring and smile longingly for a refill. Secondary focus is clanging a full beer mug in a toast to today's walk with cheers around the table and not a drop spilled. Pack on, Pack off, Pack on Pack off. Squat, pee, wipe. (Especially challenging for me). Pillow throwing and charge cord danging to wake neighboring snorers. The list can be extensive!
This weeks schedule was:
Day 1. 4 hours guitar playing. One beer
Day 2. One hour horse riding 1hour stretching. One wine
Day 3. Six miles walking 2 beers
Day 4 10 miles bike ride 2 whines
As you can see, if I continue on at this pace I will be a pickled pilgrim by April 26.
I should stick to the basics and walk daily with my loaded pack and take extensive hikes on the weekends. The wise woman climber had it right "train by doing it".
The Physical and Occupational Therapist I saw at Oregon Health and Sciences University taught me that also. Its easy to let sympathetic friends, family members and caregivers take care of all the household chores when you are stiff, tremoring or too fatigued to do it. Yet, if as a Person with Parkinson's, if you let them do it, you are going to lose it. Keep moving through those activities of daily living. Good advice for me, for everyone.
Friday, September 2, 2016
4. Preparing for the Walk 4
How can I prepare my body, mind and soul so my time walking the Camino solo will be a fulfilling experience? How does anyone prepare for the Camino and the continual walking day after day in any and all elements Mother Nature might throw my way. And most importantly, how does this Person with Parkinson prepare after knowing some of the intimate encounters one can have with fatigue, blisters, tendinitis and generally dealing with a degenerative neurological disease while wandering the well trodden path across northern Spain..
About 20 some years ago Charlie and I were day hiking towards the Ingraham glacier on Mt, Rainier when we met up with a group of climbers, the youngest age 65, resting at their base camp before their summit attempt that night. I was particularly interested in visiting with the sole woman in the group about her training. She commented that the best way to train is by " doing it". She walked several miles each day near her home. On weekends she hiked steeper and longer trails and practiced technical skills as the terrain provided. "No crosstraining? Weights? Swimming? Cardio?" I inquired. "I just walk" came the answer from this experienced climber.
Walking the Camino with "the Family" taught me that practice was needed in some specialized skills and techniques. I will be "cross training" for Camino 2. Primary focus has been tilt the wine glass slowly towards the person pouring and smile longingly for a refill. Secondary focus is clanging a full beer mug in a toast to today's walk with cheers around the table and not a drop spilled. Pack on, Pack off, Pack on Pack off. Squat, pee, wipe. (Especially challenging for me). Pillow throwing and charge cord danging to wake neighboring snorers. The list can be extensive!
This weeks schedule was:
Day 1. 4 hours guitar playing. One beer
Day 2. One hour horse riding 1hour stretching. One wine
Day 3. Six miles walking 2 beers
Day 4 10 miles bike ride 2 whines
As you can see, if I continue on at this pace I will be a pickled pilgrim by April 26.
I should stick to the basics and walk daily with my loaded pack and take extensive hikes on the weekends. The wise woman climber had it right "train by doing it".
The Physical and Occupational Therapist I saw at Oregon Health and Sciences University taught me that also. Its easy to let sympathetic friends, family members and caregivers take care of all the household chores when you are stiff, tremoring or too fatigued to do it. Yet, if as a Person with Parkinson's, if you let them do it, you are going to lose it. Keep moving through those activities of daily living. Good advice for me, for everyone.
About 20 some years ago Charlie and I were day hiking towards the Ingraham glacier on Mt, Rainier when we met up with a group of climbers, the youngest age 65, resting at their base camp before their summit attempt that night. I was particularly interested in visiting with the sole woman in the group about her training. She commented that the best way to train is by " doing it". She walked several miles each day near her home. On weekends she hiked steeper and longer trails and practiced technical skills as the terrain provided. "No crosstraining? Weights? Swimming? Cardio?" I inquired. "I just walk" came the answer from this experienced climber.
Walking the Camino with "the Family" taught me that practice was needed in some specialized skills and techniques. I will be "cross training" for Camino 2. Primary focus has been tilt the wine glass slowly towards the person pouring and smile longingly for a refill. Secondary focus is clanging a full beer mug in a toast to today's walk with cheers around the table and not a drop spilled. Pack on, Pack off, Pack on Pack off. Squat, pee, wipe. (Especially challenging for me). Pillow throwing and charge cord danging to wake neighboring snorers. The list can be extensive!
This weeks schedule was:
Day 1. 4 hours guitar playing. One beer
Day 2. One hour horse riding 1hour stretching. One wine
Day 3. Six miles walking 2 beers
Day 4 10 miles bike ride 2 whines
As you can see, if I continue on at this pace I will be a pickled pilgrim by April 26.
I should stick to the basics and walk daily with my loaded pack and take extensive hikes on the weekends. The wise woman climber had it right "train by doing it".
The Physical and Occupational Therapist I saw at Oregon Health and Sciences University taught me that also. Its easy to let sympathetic friends, family members and caregivers take care of all the household chores when you are stiff, tremoring or too fatigued to do it. Yet, if as a Person with Parkinson's, if you let them do it, you are going to lose it. Keep moving through those activities of daily living. Good advice for me, for everyone.
3 If the Coat FIts Wear it
3. If the Coat Fits Wear It
"I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life".
But what if the "coat" no longer fits?
The day I received my initial diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, I did not drive straight home. I stopped and bought myself a new coat.
That day came to mind, as I participated in a round table discussion at a Parkinson's Seminar in Eugene, Oregon.The question was presented "What did you do when you first heard those words "You have Parkinson's Disease?"
I blurted out "Oh, I went out and bought a coat." All eyes darted to me. I was expected to explain.
"That coat fit me well. It represented a time and place in my life. A career where I dressed in suits and dresses. A position that changed me into a person I never thought I would be. Some of that was good, some not so good.
That coat no longer fits me. Leave it to say I have gained 40 lbs since my diagnosis. But also it represents who I was pre Parkinson's diagnosis. I am so different now."
I turned to the woman on my right, a college professor with a brand new diagnosis. As tears rolled down her cheeks, I knew what I was about to say was too raw, too fresh for her to understand. Yet I had to say it, because it was that very moment I had discovered it was my TRUTH. "I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life". The entire table quieted and listened even more carefully to my words. Lightening it up a little seemed like a good idea so I planned my next comment "I have been permanently excused from JURY DUTY! I get to park right close to the Supermarket entrance! I have new hobbies, new friends, no responsibility for the tax payers dollars! I feel softer, rounder, stronger, and definitely tougher. The daily stress I once felt is replaced by peace. The anger I once harbored is gone. I find it difficult to get really mad, or really hurt. I am thankful." We sat there, in quiet for a moment, around that table, the four People with Parkinson's and their loved ones or caregiver, pondering, I am guessing "Can one really be at peace with this disease?"
Before leaving on my solo Camino, one year after that first agonizing march across Spain, my husband bought me a new coat. This was not to replace the coat I purchased the day of my diagnosis with Parkinson's, but my old rain jacket. Of course he would want me to have the best gear. It was going to wrap itself around my body and be my protection when he was not there personally. The old rain coat that had traveled scrunched up in my pack for most of its life was replaced by this bright green Marmot Minimalist jacket Charlie purchased, not even on sale. The color made me very happy. I loved it. Rainproof yet breathable, perfect. This jacket had a great hood, with a bill even! The underarm pitzips, vented back, and pockets that closed with Velcro or zipped: so many options it had! Most importantly, it did not look good with dresses, or suits from the work world. It fit the "me", the new me who had Parkinson's Disease.
"I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life".
But what if the "coat" no longer fits?
The day I received my initial diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, I did not drive straight home. I stopped and bought myself a new coat.
That day came to mind, as I participated in a round table discussion at a Parkinson's Seminar in Eugene, Oregon.The question was presented "What did you do when you first heard those words "You have Parkinson's Disease?"
I blurted out "Oh, I went out and bought a coat." All eyes darted to me. I was expected to explain.
"That coat fit me well. It represented a time and place in my life. A career where I dressed in suits and dresses. A position that changed me into a person I never thought I would be. Some of that was good, some not so good.
That coat no longer fits me. Leave it to say I have gained 40 lbs since my diagnosis. But also it represents who I was pre Parkinson's diagnosis. I am so different now."
I turned to the woman on my right, a college professor with a brand new diagnosis. As tears rolled down her cheeks, I knew what I was about to say was too raw, too fresh for her to understand. Yet I had to say it, because it was that very moment I had discovered it was my TRUTH. "I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life". The entire table quieted and listened even more carefully to my words. Lightening it up a little seemed like a good idea so I planned my next comment "I have been permanently excused from JURY DUTY! I get to park right close to the Supermarket entrance! I have new hobbies, new friends, no responsibility for the tax payers dollars! I feel softer, rounder, stronger, and definitely tougher. The daily stress I once felt is replaced by peace. The anger I once harbored is gone. I find it difficult to get really mad, or really hurt. I am thankful." We sat there, in quiet for a moment, around that table, the four People with Parkinson's and their loved ones or caregiver, pondering, I am guessing "Can one really be at peace with this disease?"
Before leaving on my solo Camino, one year after that first agonizing march across Spain, my husband bought me a new coat. This was not to replace the coat I purchased the day of my diagnosis with Parkinson's, but my old rain jacket. Of course he would want me to have the best gear. It was going to wrap itself around my body and be my protection when he was not there personally. The old rain coat that had traveled scrunched up in my pack for most of its life was replaced by this bright green Marmot Minimalist jacket Charlie purchased, not even on sale. The color made me very happy. I loved it. Rainproof yet breathable, perfect. This jacket had a great hood, with a bill even! The underarm pitzips, vented back, and pockets that closed with Velcro or zipped: so many options it had! Most importantly, it did not look good with dresses, or suits from the work world. It fit the "me", the new me who had Parkinson's Disease.
3 If the Coat FIts Wear it
3. If the Coat Fits Wear It
"I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life".
But what if the "coat" no longer fits?
The day I received my initial diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, I did not drive straight home. I stopped and bought myself a new coat.
That day came to mind, as I participated in a round table discussion at a Parkinson's Seminar in Eugene, Oregon.The question was presented "What did you do when you first heard those words "You have Parkinson's Disease?"
I blurted out "Oh, I went out and bought a coat." All eyes darted to me. I was expected to explain.
"That coat fit me well. It represented a time and place in my life. A career where I dressed in suits and dresses. A position that changed me into a person I never thought I would be. Some of that was good, some not so good.
That coat no longer fits me. Leave it to say I have gained 40 lbs since my diagnosis. But also it represents who I was pre Parkinson's diagnosis. I am so different now."
I turned to the woman on my right, a college professor with a brand new diagnosis. As tears rolled down her cheeks, I knew what I was about to say was too raw, too fresh for her to understand. Yet I had to say it, because it was that very moment I had discovered it was my TRUTH. "I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life". The entire table quieted and listened even more carefully to my words. Lightening it up a little seemed like a good idea so I planned my next comment "I have been permanently excused from JURY DUTY! I get to park right close to the Supermarket entrance! I have new hobbies, new friends, no responsibility for the tax payers dollars! I feel softer, rounder, stronger, and definitely tougher. The daily stress I once felt is replaced by peace. The anger I once harbored is gone. I find it difficult to get really mad, or really hurt. I am thankful." We sat there, in quiet for a moment, around that table, the four People with Parkinson's and their loved ones or caregiver, pondering, I am guessing "Can one really be at peace with this disease?"
Before leaving on my solo Camino, one year after that first agonizing march across Spain, my husband bought me a new coat. This was not to replace the coat I purchased the day of my diagnosis with Parkinson's, but my old rain jacket. Of course he would want me to have the best gear. It was going to wrap itself around my body and be my protection when he was not there personally. The old rain coat that had traveled scrunched up in my pack for most of its life was replaced by this bright green Marmot Minimalist jacket Charlie purchased, not even on sale. The color made me very happy. I loved it. Rainproof yet breathable, perfect. This jacket had a great hood, with a bill even! The underarm pitzips, vented back, and pockets that closed with Velcro or zipped: so many options it had! Most importantly, it did not look good with dresses, or suits from the work world. It fit the "me", the new me who had Parkinson's Disease.
"I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life".
But what if the "coat" no longer fits?
The day I received my initial diagnosis of Parkinson's disease, I did not drive straight home. I stopped and bought myself a new coat.
That day came to mind, as I participated in a round table discussion at a Parkinson's Seminar in Eugene, Oregon.The question was presented "What did you do when you first heard those words "You have Parkinson's Disease?"
I blurted out "Oh, I went out and bought a coat." All eyes darted to me. I was expected to explain.
"That coat fit me well. It represented a time and place in my life. A career where I dressed in suits and dresses. A position that changed me into a person I never thought I would be. Some of that was good, some not so good.
That coat no longer fits me. Leave it to say I have gained 40 lbs since my diagnosis. But also it represents who I was pre Parkinson's diagnosis. I am so different now."
I turned to the woman on my right, a college professor with a brand new diagnosis. As tears rolled down her cheeks, I knew what I was about to say was too raw, too fresh for her to understand. Yet I had to say it, because it was that very moment I had discovered it was my TRUTH. "I am a much happier person since my diagnosis, and for that I am thankful for this event in my life". The entire table quieted and listened even more carefully to my words. Lightening it up a little seemed like a good idea so I planned my next comment "I have been permanently excused from JURY DUTY! I get to park right close to the Supermarket entrance! I have new hobbies, new friends, no responsibility for the tax payers dollars! I feel softer, rounder, stronger, and definitely tougher. The daily stress I once felt is replaced by peace. The anger I once harbored is gone. I find it difficult to get really mad, or really hurt. I am thankful." We sat there, in quiet for a moment, around that table, the four People with Parkinson's and their loved ones or caregiver, pondering, I am guessing "Can one really be at peace with this disease?"
Before leaving on my solo Camino, one year after that first agonizing march across Spain, my husband bought me a new coat. This was not to replace the coat I purchased the day of my diagnosis with Parkinson's, but my old rain jacket. Of course he would want me to have the best gear. It was going to wrap itself around my body and be my protection when he was not there personally. The old rain coat that had traveled scrunched up in my pack for most of its life was replaced by this bright green Marmot Minimalist jacket Charlie purchased, not even on sale. The color made me very happy. I loved it. Rainproof yet breathable, perfect. This jacket had a great hood, with a bill even! The underarm pitzips, vented back, and pockets that closed with Velcro or zipped: so many options it had! Most importantly, it did not look good with dresses, or suits from the work world. It fit the "me", the new me who had Parkinson's Disease.
walking the Camino 2
2 Walking the Camino de Santiago?
Shortly after my mom's diagnosis I pondered cancelling a summer trip back packing around Europe with my husband. She said " No, you go. The world is the best classroom you can enter. Go see it! Travel while you can!"
I so wanted life to go on as usual after the shock of my own diagnosis with PD had settled. I wanted to keep traveling as my mom dad encouraged me over twenty years ago.
I so wanted life to go on as usual after the shock of my own diagnosis with PD had settled. I wanted to keep traveling as my mom dad encouraged me over twenty years ago.
When my mother finally left this world for a much better place, my husband and I were given the task of removing her personal items from the family home. There was one very large dresser that took up the entire wall of my parents' bedroom. This dresser we did not touch. It held mementos of her lifetime of travels. I wanted time to look through the things she'd saved; to discover what she thought was important to keep. My dad saw to it that my mother did a great deal of traveling in the last 6 years of her life, while she was fighting ovarian cancer. Shortly after my mom's diagnosis I pondered cancelling a summer trip around Europe with my husband. She said " No, you go. The world is the best classroom you can enter. Go see it! Travel while you can!"
Twenty four years late I sat down to clean out her dresser as we would soon be selling the family home. Receipts, postcards, itineraries, ticket stubs, menus, napkins and matchbooks revealed a part of my parents' life I knew really knew nothing of...their love of travel. Although I did not save little moments like my mom, I certainly inherited her big desire to roam the earth.
Prior to my "early retirement" I started a list, a bucket list, of great walks my husband and I would take when our kids were grown and we had the time. With my diagnosis of Parkinson's Disease a hole developed in my bucket. The list started leaking out. I said to Charlie "Do you think we can go on one of these walks?" He replied " Yes, but sooner than later. What's at the top of your list?" "Camino de Santiago." "Get planning".
The Camino de Santiago is an ancient Christian pilgrimage route that has recently regained popularity worldwide. Walkers find paths leading from all parts of western Europe to Santiago, where it is said the remains of St James, the apostle of Jesus, are buried.
Charlie, our 13 year old second child Luke and I geared up for 30 or more days of walking in Spain. As the planning continued our little family added Charlie's brother Al and our family friend Jeremy. Nephew Brandon and his mom Yvette planned to meet us in Burgos, Spain. Al's and Charlie's sister Cecelia, Al' s wife Delora and their son Joshua rounded our " family" to 10 in Sarria.
Charlie, our 13 year old second child Luke and I geared up for 30 or more days of walking in Spain. As the planning continued our little family added Charlie's brother Al and our family friend Jeremy. Nephew Brandon and his mom Yvette planned to meet us in Burgos, Spain. Al's and Charlie's sister Cecelia, Al' s wife Delora and their son Joshua rounded our " family" to 10 in Sarria.
I was four years into my diagnosis with Parkinson's. My medication and exercise regiment had smoothed out. I felt confident that the Camino was going to be an awesome experience.Yet our first day of walking from Saint Jean Pied du Port in France to the our nights stay at the Orisonne Albergue traumatized me. I had three major panic attacks, took two medication induced naps, and struggled 8 hours to walk the 8 steep kilometers. I screamed at my husband "If it's going to be like this, Charlie, I can't do it!" "Sure you can. It's just one foot of the other", a phrase we have used with each other all our married lives.
Walking across Spain with my husband's family in the heat of June and July was wonderful, challenging, exciting, arduous and agonizing all at the same time. With all the support and encouragement the walk should have been a totally enjoyable experience. Can I list the events that made it less than enjoyable? Rashes and blisters and tendinitis and medication challenges and sleepless nights accentuated by snoring pilgrims in the albergues. Medication misplaced and broken trekking poles and bus rides and taxis and losing my balance while peeing in the bushes and just wanting to walk quietly with no pain.
No, I was not satisfied with my Camino experience.
I didn't write much about what I was going through at the time. It was deeply engrained in me and I knew I would not forget a moment of that agony. Who would want to hear of my misery, anyway? It didn't match the hopeful and positive Person with Parkinson's disease I appeared to be. The journey took us over three mountain ranges, across the meseta (a long dusty plateau of agricultural nothingness) through eucalyptus forests and vineyards. We slept in albergues, dormitory like dwellings with bunk beds and showers, and took out meals at "bars" or with picnic. supplies purchased at small markets.Walking 16-23 kilometers a day in the elements. It had all looked good and fun on paper. It wasn't.
Returning from the Camino I was surprised to find that through an impromptu Facebook and First Giving drive, my friends and family donated $7000 in my honor to research for a cure of Parkinson's disease. My spirits were lifted.
Oregon Health and Sciences University acknowledged the gifts given on my behalf and allowed me to have a display and show some slides at their annual Parkinson's Conference. I had to adjust my attitude to to show the positive hopeful pilgrim with Parkinson's Disease.
And, as I scribbled out thank you's for the gifts, I secretly planned a return to the Camino.... soon, on a solo adventure!
walking the Camino 2
2 Walking the Camino de Santiago?
Shortly after my mom's diagnosis
I pondered cancelling a summer trip back packing around Europe with my husband. She
said " No, you go. The world is the best classroom you can enter. Go
see it! Travel while you can!"
I so wanted life to go on as usual after the shock of my own diagnosis with PD had settled. I wanted to keep traveling as my mom dad encouraged me over twenty years ago.
I so wanted life to go on as usual after the shock of my own diagnosis with PD had settled. I wanted to keep traveling as my mom dad encouraged me over twenty years ago.
When my mother finally left this world for a much better place, my husband and I were given the task of removing her personal items from the family home. There was one very large dresser that took up the entire wall of my parents' bedroom. This dresser we did not touch. It held mementos of her lifetime of travels. I wanted time to look through the things she'd saved; to discover what she thought was important to keep. My dad saw to it that my mother did a great deal of traveling in the last 6 years of her life, while she was fighting ovarian cancer. Shortly after my mom's diagnosis I pondered cancelling a summer trip around Europe with my husband. She said " No, you go. The world is the best classroom you can enter. Go see it! Travel while you can!"
Twenty four years late I sat down to clean out her dresser as we would soon be selling the family home. Receipts, postcards, itineraries, ticket stubs, menus, napkins and matchbooks revealed a part of my parents' life I knew really knew nothing of...their love of travel. Although I did not save little moments like my mom, I certainly inherited her big desire to roam the earth.
Prior to my "early retirement" I started a list, a bucket list, of great walks my husband and I would take when our kids were grown and we had the time. With my diagnosis of Parkinson's Disease a hole developed in my bucket. The list started leaking out. I said to Charlie "Do you think we can go on one of these walks?" He replied " Yes, but sooner than later. What's at the top of your list?" "Camino de Santiago." "Get planning".
The Camino de Santiago is an ancient Christian pilgrimage route that has recently regained popularity worldwide. Walkers find paths leading from all parts of western Europe to Santiago, where it is said the remains of St James, the apostle of Jesus, are buried.
Charlie, our 13 year old second child Luke and I geared up for 30 or more days of walking in Spain. As the planning continued our little family added Charlie's brother Al and our family friend Jeremy. Nephew Brandon and his mom Yvette planned to meet us in Burgos, Spain. Al's and Charlie's sister Cecelia, Al' s wife Delora and their son Joshua rounded our " family" to 10 in Sarria.
Charlie, our 13 year old second child Luke and I geared up for 30 or more days of walking in Spain. As the planning continued our little family added Charlie's brother Al and our family friend Jeremy. Nephew Brandon and his mom Yvette planned to meet us in Burgos, Spain. Al's and Charlie's sister Cecelia, Al' s wife Delora and their son Joshua rounded our " family" to 10 in Sarria.
I was four years into my diagnosis with Parkinson's. My medication and exercise regiment had smoothed out. I felt confident that the Camino was going to be an awesome experience.Yet our first day of walking from Saint Jean Pied du Port in France to the our nights stay at the Orisonne Albergue traumatized me. I had three major panic attacks, took two medication induced naps, and struggled 8 hours to walk the 8 steep kilometers. I screamed at my husband "If it's going to be like this, Charlie, I can't do it!" "Sure you can. It's just one foot of the other", a phrase we have used with each other all our married lives.
Walking across Spain with my husband's family in the heat of June and July was wonderful, challenging, exciting, arduous and agonizing all at the same time. With all the support and encouragement the walk should have been a totally enjoyable experience. Can I list the events that made it less than enjoyable? Rashes and blisters and tendinitis and medication challenges and sleepless nights accentuated by snoring pilgrims in the albergues. Medication misplaced and broken trekking poles and bus rides and taxis and losing my balance while peeing in the bushes and just wanting to walk quietly with no pain.
No, I was not satisfied with my Camino experience.
I didn't write much about what I was going through at the time. It was deeply engrained in me and I knew I would not forget a moment of that agony. Who would want to hear of my misery, anyway? It didn't match the hopeful and positive Person with Parkinson's disease I appeared to be. The journey took us over three mountain ranges, across the meseta (a long dusty plateau of agricultural nothingness) through eucalyptus forests and vineyards. We slept in albergues, dormitory like dwellings with bunk beds and showers, and took out meals at "bars" or with picnic. supplies purchased at small markets.Walking 16-23 kilometers a day in the elements. It had all looked good and fun on paper. It wasn't.
Returning from the Camino I was surprised to find that through
an impromptu Facebook and First Giving drive, my friends and family
donated $7000 in my honor to research for a cure of Parkinson's
disease. My spirits were lifted.
Oregon Health and Sciences University acknowledged the gifts given on my behalf and allowed me to have a display and show some slides at their annual Parkinson's Conference. I had to adjust my attitude to to show the positive hopeful pilgrim with Parkinson's Disease.
And, as I scribbled out thank you's for the gifts, I secretly planned a return to the Camino.... soon, on a solo adventure!
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Jan 27
OK Friends, hair style number one was the winner by vote. Even my hairstylist thought it would be a good style for me. I need to schedule a plastic surgery appointment to have the face that goes with the hair!
I am trying to keep myself occupied as I wait for the scheduler to call back with the date for my DBS surgery. I would go stir crazy if I thought about it all the time...so.. I am going through closets, boxes, drawers, the garage, the shop and leaving big messes behind as I get distracted into another room. Its great! I am spending time with my personal trainer, massage therapist, physical therapist(s), yoga instructor, guitar teacher, bicycling husband and walking friends to keep my body moving. I am volunteering, visiting friends, accepting invitations, playing music for the folks at assisted living, listening to podcasts and going to lectures to keep my mind active.
Time is going fast. Its almost February. 1/12 of 2016 is almost gone.
What will I be like in one month? Two months? Three months? In July at RAGBRAI, in August at the TRIATHLON, in September at the WORLD PARKINSON'S SYMPOSIUM.
Its like Christmas, so hard to wait
I am trying to keep myself occupied as I wait for the scheduler to call back with the date for my DBS surgery. I would go stir crazy if I thought about it all the time...so.. I am going through closets, boxes, drawers, the garage, the shop and leaving big messes behind as I get distracted into another room. Its great! I am spending time with my personal trainer, massage therapist, physical therapist(s), yoga instructor, guitar teacher, bicycling husband and walking friends to keep my body moving. I am volunteering, visiting friends, accepting invitations, playing music for the folks at assisted living, listening to podcasts and going to lectures to keep my mind active.
Time is going fast. Its almost February. 1/12 of 2016 is almost gone.
What will I be like in one month? Two months? Three months? In July at RAGBRAI, in August at the TRIATHLON, in September at the WORLD PARKINSON'S SYMPOSIUM.
Its like Christmas, so hard to wait
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