It's been two years since I last posted. On August 10, 2015 I was diagnosed with
Parkinson's Disease (PD).
I was reading articles on dealing with
PD while riding an exercise bike and listening to The Man Who Sold
the World: “A chance to die to turn to mold.”
There is advice on planning for your
impending decrepitude. Best case I only have 20 to 30 years. I might
be helpless as young as 80 something. Okay, that's not so bad.
At 15 I thought I didn't want to live
past 30. In the month before my thirtieth birthday I found a new job
and moved into a new house. Now at more than twice that age I'm glad
I lived. BTW, my first wife was not worried about me killing myself.
She just assumed that I would go to bed on August 7, 1983 and not
wake up.
As I read about all the directives and
planning I need to do I again return to the dreams of my youth. Well,
actually I've talked to my boys about this before.
I've always had a soft spot in my heart
for nature. I know I'm in trouble when I start to feel separate from
nature. A friend noticed that since I started treatment I am easily
distracted by birds flying by. In my youth I loved to watch birds.
Again in my teens I dreamt of being
buried in a simple pine box to decay and molder back into the earth.
My favorite dream was being buried at sea in the Laguna Madre, food for my
early arch enemies: hardheads and crabs. But perhaps my favorite and
most bizarre dream was that near the end I would go into the wild to
be torn apart and eaten by wild animals: pumas, coyotes, bobcats, &c.
and finally my great love, vultures.
As I go through these thoughts I begin
to wonder about my mental state. I read the following on the National
Parkinson Foundation Web Site under “What Are the Treatment Options
for Psychosis?”
“ The clinician must determine if the
psychotic symptoms are related to medication side effects, dementia
or delirium.”
So where do I really stand mentally.
Some may think wanting to be torn apart and eaten by wild animals
might be a bit on the psychotic side, but I thought it through.
Given the number of medications I take
it would be an act of cruelty to allow a poor beastie to eat me. It
would also poison the earth to decay in a pine box. I suppose the
only sane thing is to ask for cremation at a place familiar with
disposal of hazardous materials.
TTFN
