Why Me?

Why me? Do I ever contemplate the eternal question  of someone who has been dealt a bad hand in life such as Parkinson's Disease? I can honestly say it has never entered my mind. Let me explain the version of "why me" that never entered my mind; the self pity woe is me version of that question. I could waste a lot of mental energy on why me.  Maybe if I fell to my knees in the pouring rain, hands extended to the heavens yelling whyyyyyy to God as lightening flashed all around like the priest in Caddy Shack when the putt set on the lip of the cup and did not go in to set the club record. Did it help? Nope. Life is full of the why me's. Most of the time when I hear it, you don't even have to ask why because you know it was something you did or didn't do or it was just out of your control. It does not matter if you thought the end result was just or not. It is what it is. Do you know why I have PD? I don't either, neither does my neurologist. It would be wrong for me to ask why me. That would mean I did not deserve my current situation, but everyone else did.  I am sure there were people on the Titanic who asked the question, why did we hit an iceberg?  It does not matter. It does not affect the current situation that the ship is sinking. Although you could ask, why is the band still playing? I would be duct taping a couple of cellos together and getting off that ship ASAP.  Did they invent duct tape yet? If they did, I bet they could have fixed the ship.
"What if", this is another great time waster, but let's play the what if game. What if I ate better when I was younger and worked out more, would I have PD? What if one of my parents carried a PD gene? What if no one knows, but through genetic marker studies we are getting closer to that answer? What if it was something in the environment?  This one that keeps me up at night -- what if those poor people did not take that three hour tour? I would imagine they would never been stranded on that island. We can ask, why did Ginger wear that dress? Why did the Howell's not own their own yacht? How come the Skipper never lost any weight? The people on Survivor always do. Why can the professor make a nuclear reactor out of coconuts, but not fix a two foot hole in a boat? Could Mary Ann be any cuter? Not a question, just a personal observation.

See it's a fun game, but we are not meant to apply "what if" to our current real life situations because we can't go back in time. I do admit to playing what if after my sports team loses a game. I am working on that in small steps and that's not a PD pun.

Now here is how I look at "why me".  Why me? Because I can make a difference. I have the ability to help. That's why me. Instead of feeling sorry for myself I choose to take that negative thought and turn it into positive action.

What if? What if I did not have PD?  Would I ever have been involved in trying to help get this disease cured? Probably not.  I have never known anyone with PD. People usually do not take up a cause until it affects a family member or a friend so I look at it as a calling.

I like to ask the questions, how and what? How can I help and what do we need to do?  Everyone has had the opportunity in their life to ask these questions. You have not been singled out in life. Mistakes turn into lessons. Lost loved ones are to be carried in our hearts, not to hold us back. Life will place shut doors in front of all of us. Don't spend time knocking, hoping someone will open it for you. You need to go through, around, over, under, but you must move ahead.

"What if", that's the past. "Why me", you're stuck in neutral. "Life" is what you do when you move forward. Michael J. Fox was asked by an interviewer on TV, "Do you ever think why me?"  His response was "Why not me?"

My blogger friends

What has Parkinson's given me? It is currently an incurable disease, but there are great people working on that. So what gift could I receive or what possible good could come from PD? First, you see the quality of your friends; the support and love they give you in your time of need. It’s very easy to be a friend in good times. It doesn’t take much effort, but when the chips are down and you need help and support, a friendship can be tested. I have been very blessed with the friends I have! Friends and family are part of the many different communities we belong to.

One good thing that has come out of PD is that my community has expanded by an incredible group of bloggers who have chosen to battle this disease through their inspirational writing. I think that most of my fellow Parkie bloggers will tell you that you don't know who is reading your blog. When you first put it up, friends and family are there to support it. Sure that's how we got to be searchable on the web and get it out to the Parkinson's community. There I was feeling like those guys at NASA sending out signals into outer space hoping to get a response back. I have never written anything before so my other fear was that I was going to be like those guys in the fishing boat drinking beer that the aliens always find and decide to contact. Immediately after a conversation with them, Bubba enlightens our alien friends that our world is doing great because of a TV program called Bassmasters. Was I going to be the Bubba of the blogging universe feeling that higher life forms have passed me by? I was so excited when I first received a comment posted by a fellow Parkie on one of my posts. I instantly felt less alone dealing with PD. It was validation.

Since then my PD blogger community has expanded. We find each other through this wonderful social media, brought together by our common challenge. There is intelligent life out there and they are called bloggers; a community of people getting the message out to the PD world that you are not alone and there is hope. We strike out at PD with every stroke of our keyboards. We lift the spirits of someone who suffers, whose hope was rekindled by the words of a blogger they never met. At the same time it makes us feel that even with our PD, we are viable and we will not go quietly into that good night! We can make a difference. What we all do counts!

On my blog are links to bloggers who have so generously taken the time to read my posts and respond to them. Please take the time to read their wonderful blogs. A special thanks to kj who writes 12 Paws and Frogs. She is a very special person who truly shows us what grace is even with PD and a father who is going through his own battle with cancer. kj reflects joy and positivity in her writings. Thank you, kj!

To all my friends who read my blog, I can’t thank you enough!!! Okay, Parkie bloggers, hit those keyboards. There are people who are counting on us!

P.S. - To all the fine people out late at night who are fishing on boats, the next time you make contact with extraterrestrials stop showing them that 8 pounder you caught and using the words "ain't she a beaut". Please tell them to stick around. We sure could use the help....Okay, got to go. Bassmasters is coming on.

I'm Pat Younts and I move to live.

Little River Band - Help Is On Its Way

For all you Parkies out there that might be having a down day, here's something

I found -- a little pick me up inspirational song. Hang on, help is on its way.

We are people in common

What’s your problem? We all have them to lesser or greater degrees. No one’s life is problem free. Even if you don’t, someone you care about does and that’s a problem, too, because you care about them and it makes us concerned when people we care about have problems. Since we all have them that means we all have something in common and that makes us part of a community called the human race. As part of a community, we need to be mindful of each other’s problems. A community survives by looking out for each other and at the same time not expecting the help. We also must be responsible for ourselves. Could you imagine a whole world of people taking responsibility for their own lives, not blaming each other for our problems, and at the same time helping someone else? How much could we get done?

If everyone on the planet earth could indulge me for a moment, I presume everyone reads my blog. I need to check my stat counter…1..2..3... billion, yep, everyone’s here. Now, if everyone could reach back and take the hand of the person whose problem is worse than yours, and with your other hand reach forward and take the hand of a person in front of you who has a smaller problem than you, it should look something like this -- the person at Morton's Steakhouse whose steak came back not quite medium rare should be holding onto the person’s hand behind them who just got a ticket in their new Mercedes Benz for double parking. That person is holding onto the executive who just lost their job and only has a year’s severance pay. The executive has a firm grasp of the person’s hand that lost their home because they had no severance package and now lives in a one room apartment with three kids. In that person’s hand is the hand of the abused mother and her children who have fled their situation. She looks back to see the pink shirt of the woman who is battling breast cancer, but it was fortunately caught early. The same could not be said for the man whose hand she holds who was diagnosed too late. He has some time to say goodbye to his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and in short time will be reunited with his wife. He tries to be strong for the young African woman who after being attacked by solders that killed her family, months later gave birth to a baby with Aids in the refugee camp that has no medicine, food, or clean water.

We have problems to greater or lesser degrees. Individually it’s about our own personal perspectives, but regardless of how you view them, what we have is the ability to extend our hands forward asking for help. We also have the ability to reach back and help someone less fortunate than ourselves. People of the earth, we have each other. On the count of three, everyone pull. Very nice. We gave each other a hand up. We moved the human race forward instead of standing there and focusing on our own problems. We helped and received help in return. Empathy is blind. You might have noticed that the hands of people you held are the same, not Christian, Muslim, Hindu or Buddhist. It wasn’t a black, white, Asian, Hispanic, or Middle Eastern hand. It was the hand of a human being who needed a little help; a people in common.

The words I love you

Through the course of the day I say the words, "I love you" at least 8 to 10 times per day to my wife. I never hang up the phone without saying I love you; of course, I mean to my family. I might have said it to my car mechanic one time when he fixed something and said no charge. I tell my brothers I love them and kiss them on the cheek in public. We are not embarrassed to show our love for each other.

My son is a varsity offensive line coach for the high school he graduated from and on occasion when he needs me to drop him off at school in front of his players, he gives me a kiss on the cheek and tells me, "I love you" -- big tough coach and a loving son.

My daughter was a cheerleader in high school. When we dropped her off,  I would tell her, "I love you," and wait until she got close to her friends, then stick my head out of the car and yell it again.  Embarrassing your kids is one of those great joys in the world. She always looked back and through gritted teeth would say the words, "I love you."

Sam is my future daughter-in-law and is getting used to our 'I love you household'.  Not all people verbalize their emotions. She shows us in her sweetness and thoughtfulness, which is very special. She gets closer every day to uttering those awesome words.

My in-laws are two of the greatest people you will ever meet. I think of them as parents. They have always made me feel like a son. Not everyone loves their in-laws. I do and I tell them I love you.

Let's see, who else...I will answer my friends who post those nice comments on my blog and tell them I love you.  My brother-in-law is one of the sweetest guys you will ever meet and he gets an I love you. I tell my dogs and cats, "Daddy loves you." Okay, I know, who does that? I think lots of people will -- I hope. I will tell my Titleist driver when I hit the ball straight down the fairway, you guessed it, I love you.

I never miss the opportunity to use the words and the point of all this is no point at all.  For all of you who are nice enough to read my blog, I just wanted to say......well, you already know.

Our Furry Friends

When I come home, the first greetings I get are from my two dogs, Duchess and Dexter. Their butts and tails wag a mile a minute. The rest of my family greets me later with an “Oh, hey you’re home and what are you cooking for dinner?” My dogs are still greeting me. If they had a human voice, it would come out as, “Dad, Dad, Dad. I love Dad. Dad, Dad, Dad, your home.” My cats purr and rub against me, all three of them. Cats always seem like renters that don’t pay and still would like me to feed them. In lieu of rent they cuddle up on my lap and repay me with one of the most pleasant sounds in the world, a steady and loud purr. My wife seems to take great joy in the mischief that our pets cause. My cat Oh No loves to knock things off countertops or anything that provides enough height to make a dramatic noise upon impact. My wife will say, “Oh No, that was bad.” Yet she has grin on her face. I think that’s an enabler.

As far as interspecies friendships, my cats and dogs love each other. They think they are all the same species, "human". My dog Dexter gets what I like to call a spa day. He will jump on the bed between the cats and let the cats groom him. I have actually seen him fall asleep while getting his tongue bath, sheer doggy bliss.

Over the last few years my wife and I have taken care of our dear friends Karen and Mark’s cats when they are out of town. You know where your friendship is with a person when they ask you to take care of their pets. I think that should be one of the questions on a government security clearance check: Have ever been asked to take care of a friend’s pets? Answer: Yes. Great, welcome to the CIA. Here's the key to the file room and you get the corner office with a view.

Our pets are very important to us. I write this blog today because I am sad for my friends Karen and Mark. They lost their kitty Trigger yesterday. Trigger was a great cat. Every time we watched him, he would greet us at the door with, “Hi Pat and Darla.” I think that’s what he would have been saying if he could talk. Trigger would rub and purr all over you and always have a different toy waiting for you at the door. It was as if he knew we were coming over and he was offering a door prize for the nice people who fed him when his mom and dad were gone. Trigger was sweet.
Our pets are family. They give us unconditional love and for those of us facing some adversity in our lives they give us a special comfort. We love our furry friends and for those who have lost their pets, I take the Buddhist outlook that all living things have a soul and when it’s our time, they will be waiting for us with a wagging tail, a bark or a purr.

What can a dollar buy

My wife and I recently returned from celebrating our thirty year wedding anniversary in Atlantic City. We love AC. It holds a fascination for us -- the ocean, the smell of all the food as you stroll down the boardwalk, and the diversity of the people. Of course, the one group I never see too much of are people from New Jersey. They are all in Vegas. At least that’s what everyone in Vegas said when I asked them where they were from. Don’t get me wrong, I love Vegas and hope to get back soon so I can see people from New Jersey.

Back to the Jersey Shore, on this particular day we finished eating dinner at the Trump Taj Mahal. Before we headed out for our stroll down the boardwalk to enjoy the beautiful evening sunset, we had to make the obligatory bathroom pit stop. I was getting ready to leave the men's room hoping that my wife might actually beat me out and would have to wait on me. On my way to witness this possible miracle, I noticed an elderly gentleman in a sharp looking Trump Taj uniform cleaning the bathroom. His head was down, concentrating on his work, keeping the place very clean. Now let me clarify, he was not an attendant. No cologne was offered or a towel or the uncomfortable stare waiting for you to finish. He was just the man cleaning the toilets. As I passed him, my hand went to my wallet and I pulled out a dollar. I thanked him for the great job he was doing. He looked at me with surprise that I was tipping him. A huge smile crossed his face as he thanked me many times for the dollar. It was not the amount of the tip, but the acknowledgement that what he was doing had worth.

Out I walked and, of course, no wife. A moment later she appeared. A side note - to this day I still get great joy watching my wife walk into a room. It makes me feel giddy. Off we went past the slot machines and out the door. We walked a little ways and realized I needed to take my medication. We stopped by a pizza place, one of the many on the boardwalk, to buy a soda so I could take my pill. I stepped to a section of the counter and asked the pretty young girl if I could get a soda. She was working very hard making the pizzas and was not the cashier, my mistake. I should have stepped inside and asked the right person; not the young girl who looked frazzled by how busy she was making the pizza. She asked, “Just a soda bottle?” in a slight Russian accent. I said, “Yes, please.” She stopped what she was doing and got the soda for me. “Three dollars,” she said. I gave her the money and she quickly turned back to the task of cooking when I said, “this is for you.” I handed her a dollar. She paused for a second with a surprised look on her face, smiled at us, raised the dollar high in the air, and walked away.

At the end of the evening after splitting the creamiest brownie topped with vanilla ice cream, caramel and strawberries at a great restaurant called Meghan's Place, we started back down the boardwalk. As we were walking back, a homeless man approached us and asked if we could spare some change. I didn’t ask what it was for, presuming it would go to a bottle of liquor. I handed him a dollar in change. “God bless you, sir. It’s just that I'm hungry,” and he was. I watched him go to one of the food stands to get something to eat and thought at least tonight he will not be hungry.

What did my dollar buy; it bought me three moments of joy.

It made me forget about my problems for those moments. Understandably, people with problems sometimes get a narrow perspective and focus on ourselves, but it’s a big world and I won’t let PD take away my ability to show kindness and be mindful of others. We tend to get caught up in our own lives and forget there are others out there who might be going through their own trials and tribulations. Simple every day acts of kindness can turn someone’s day around; hold the door for someone, let the person with one item go in front of you in the grocery store, use thank you and please - powerful words.

In today’s economy a dollar can buy a lot. It was the price of a smile. Money well spent!