Today's story

My stepmother was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease about nine years ago. She was in her mid-40s at the time, which is SUPER young for Parkinson's. Needless to say, Michael J Fox is something of a hero in the house.

In the last five years, she's had surgeries (plural) to correct a palate/nasal cavity/jaw abnormality. She never quite regained full nerve function in her jaw, looks completely different (I mean, her face got rebuilt twice!) and since then, the symptoms of her Parkinson's have progressed significantly. She's doing... well, I suppose... but what it comes down to is that her medication load has increased by about 200% in the last five years and it won't ever go down. It's a degenerative disorder, so things will only ever get worse and it's all her doctors can do to keep up. At this point, her meds are organized in a full-sized fishing tackle box, by day, time, and type. She's taking easily thirty pills per day for tremors, speech, pain, dopamine, nausea, fatigue, and God only knows what else.

About a month from now, she'll be going through a process called deep brain stimulation surgery. The basic idea is that an electrode implanted in her brain (sort of like a pacemaker) will block the bad impulses that cause her tremors and speech problems. It's a three-part surgery that will end up taking at least six weeks (likely closer to three months). The hope is that this will get her off at least half of her medication--which, because no one really knows what the meds DO, especially when mixed--will help her fatigue, nausea, night terrors, and other symptoms ease up as well.

At any rate: I spent last night in a wrecked state emotionally; most of this morning was spent waiting to call my dad to make sure everything was okay. And I did. And it is.

It's a beautiful day and my cat just ate a fly.