Things I dislike about having Parkinson’s
#4 in a series of many
It is possible that I am a wit and raconteur to rank amongst the finest. It is also possible that I am not. We may never know. (My much better half has just glanced at this opening paragraph and given me a look that suggests that her mind is made up on the question. However I shall type on undeterred.)
I’ve always had problems with socialising and the clues are there: sci-fi loving, mathematics teacher. In addition I have an annoying habit. I’ll be there socialising with a group of fri… I nearly put friends but a group of people I know is more accurate.
The conversation moves onto a topic and into my head pops a witty or profound comment. Do I casually slip the comment seamlessly into the conversation and bask in the glory of the others admiration of my Bon mots? No. Instead in my hear I review and edit the comment, polishing this gem for its unveiling.
Now it is ready, honed to perfection, my moment has …. um . . . passed The conversation has moved on. With out winding the conversation back in a jarring ‘listen to me’ way, my remark, unused, unheard, and unappreciated, withers away.
Occasionally my timing was better and my remark would be heard and often well received. My Parkinson’s has contrived to rob me of this too. My voice is now very soft. Inaudible in a crowd, in a noisy place. My wit and wisdom is met with “what?”, “eh?”, or “pardon?”. So I have to repeat it. Nothing kills an amusing, throwaway remark so well as having to repeat it.
I’m just off to find a group of Trappist monks, who are having a sponsored silence: maybe I’ll be able to be heard there. . .