Parkinson's and a stack of poker chips

As I sat there folding hand after hand hoping that the dealer would favor me with two cards that would at least be playable, I patiently watched and observed the other players at my table, trying to pick up a little bit of information about them that might help me rake in a few more chips. The old saying goes, "You play the player, not the cards", but great cards sure do help. The cards were dealt again. I raised the two corners with my good right hand to reveal once again…nothing. The action came to me and I slid my two cards back to the dealer and continued to observe my table mates. It was a friendly table, lots of pleasant chitchat and everybody seemed to have a decent poker IQ, which makes for a fun afternoon of tournament poker.

I looked around the table at everyone's chip stacks. I noticed the player to the right of me had a silver coin setting on top of his poker chips. The words on the coin read, "Life is Good". It brought an instant smile to my face. Before I could comment on the coin my fellow competitor turned to me and said, "I like your T-shirt! Do you ride?" It was a Harley-Davidson t-shirt one of my friends had given me. I explained to him that I do not ride, but my friend does and she always picks up a shirt for me from different Harley shops around the world. He replied that I must have really great friends. I told him that I've been blessed to have a group of the greatest friends anybody could ask for, a wonderful extended family. We introduced ourselves. My fellow player's name was Tony, Tony from New Jersey. I don't know what the mathematical odds of finding a Tony from New Jersey in Atlantic City are, but I'm guessing pretty good. Tony told me that he use to ride, but doesn't anymore.  I told him how much I liked his chip protector. He replied that he took it everywhere he played poker. It always reminded him not to take the game too seriously, but to have fun and enjoy playing it. He also went on to tell me that 10 years before while riding his motorcycle to the high school where he taught English, he was struck by a driver who was not paying attention. He spent six weeks in a coma, went into cardiac arrest several times, but the doctors kept bringing him back. Tony told me he'd been given a second chance at life, was grateful, and planned to make the most of it.

"Pat, can I show you something else?" He pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and in that notebook were photographs of his family that had been taped to the pages along with the words he had written under each photo of his daughter, son, and his longtime wife and what they mean to him. "Pat, I carry my family everywhere I go. You know sometimes life gives you lemons and all you can do is make lemonade. Pat, tell me do you have kids?" he said his classic New Jersey accent. I told him I did and a wife of 31 years, and as a matter fact we were celebrating our anniversary. "That's wonderful Pat. Family is everything."

Tony was an instantly likable character and we definitely had similar views on life. I told Tony that I fully agreed that when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. I told Tony that I had been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease two years ago and was determined to make the best of it. He noticed my shaking and was going to ask, but didn't want to offend me with the question. I told Tony no offense would have been taken. My shaking has gotten to the point where my disease is quite obvious, plus getting the elephant out of the room and the chance to spread some awareness is always welcome. I told my wife I was a little apprehensive to play in the tournament that day with the fine motor skills it takes to manipulate your chips, pick up your cards, and sitting in close proximity to other players all the while shaking. But like Tony said, all of that is just a bunch of lemons. Getting to sit next to Tony and hearing the stories and his wonderful philosophy on life made for a wonderful glass of lemonade.

I'm Pat Younts and I Move to Live.