Jimmy Choi: Parkinson's Like Me

When I met Jimmy Choi at the Second Annual Parkinson's Circle of Care Alliance Event, I couldn't help but notice how much his hands tremored as he huddled close to all the people he took pictures with. 

And he took pictures with anyone who asked.

Far from being a rock star / actor with a price for autographs and pictures, which can get costly for some "stars" and other known quantities (for instance, at Aliencon, pictures went up to about $150 with the 2 main stars together), Jimmy was hanging out in the hall introducing himself to fellow Parkinson's warriors like you and me before his presentation. Between discussions on legal advice and a talk by Dr. Stephen Gollomp, Jimmy and his wife Cheryl were talking to fellow Parkies like they were old friends bumping into one another at the Appleby's. He was even the one initiating the conversation!

And people, younger and older loved it. We felt a part of something like the sea of hands raised up during an earlier presentation when asked, "Who has these symptoms?" 

Is this how an American Ninja Warrior really is when he's not beating nearly half the field in how far he gets in the competition? Yes. A man who has run American Ninja Warrior in 2017 and 2018 with those same shaking hands seeming so stable as he flies through the air with the greatest of ease is just like me or you or any of us, even if he's an outlier.

But when you listen to Jimmy, he really is just like us. Some days Parkinson's get him, too. He talks about the nightmare fall he took with his son in his arms (his son was unhurt, though Jimmy knew he had to change into the new him). He talks about hesitance to do things like sign up for American Ninja Warrior or even get out of bed. 

Except something in him or outside of him just does. Maybe it's his daughter asking him what his excuse is for not applying to American Ninja Warrior in 2016 after Allison Topperwein, another person with Parkinson's, competed on the show. Maybe it's marathon training. Then again, maybe it's not a trip back to 240 pounds and a cane. Maybe it's the fact that, by nature, he's an affable, athletic, and funny guy, a leader and inspiration, but still someone you'd share appetizers with at the aforementioned Appleby's while talking about life. 

When we meet our heroes, we have this elevated ideal of who they are and what they do. After all, this is a guy who Michael J. Fox sends messages of inspiration to. This is a guy who does push-ups with 100 pounds of metal plates in a backpack.

But when he talks about how people see him as some exceptional level of competitor that they can't be since they have a nasty condition, he opens the door to let them all in on the secret. While nobody should have to join the Parkinson's club, they can all get active and beat the rigidity to some degree. After all, he's not our only athlete, which is evidenced from the presence of Rock Steady Boxing's athletes and all of us who do things to stay motivated, no matter how slow or unsteady. It's also evidenced by other runners and athletes along the way, too.

This is just the message that I need. In my own life, I find myself shaking a 2 month void of feeling like Parkinson's finally caught up to me. The mantras and the pushing back, the shaking off problems, the worry about the future, and all the responsibilities as well as the lack of responsibility; suddenly all of these things combined into a perfect storm. I needed to see someone who was just like me making it work because I no longer was (though I'm coming back to me again).

I'm glad I met Jimmy that day. I'm thankful for the opportunity to take a picture with him and my wife in the same image.

I'm glad that my mom could just go over to him and talk about appreciating who and what he is. I'm glad that his talk inspired my dad, who was also there to support me in this Parkinson's journey. It's not easy to watch your children go through this. 

Then again, it's not easy to see anyone go through this, so seeing someone who seems to be winning the fight is a necessity.

But here's the thing: you and I are just like Jimmy in that we have something that sucks, but we fight back against it. Some of us are just like Cheryl in that we have someone we love, who we support, who is going through this storm, too. Others of us are just like his children, growing up inside the storm and learning to fight it off to become a beacon of hope for all.

What a run!

In the end, the real victory that Jimmy is fighting for is hope. He's prouder of raising $250,000 for medical research and tests than he is of his run. Getting medicines and treatments ready for medical testing is paramount, and his words of encouragement for that are incredible. 

If you're interested in taking part in a study, see HERE.

In the end, we're pretty much the same. We're not one size fits all. We're good people with a bad lot in life. We're fighting back. As we do, we're making connections to one another. Hopefully, someday we can all hang out and do appetizers at an Appleby's somewhere.

Identity and Diagnosis

Last Thursday I sat in the therapy chair as Mike, my therapist, and I discussed my life post starting a new job / new chapter of my life (full time with excellent benefits and an opportunity to make a difference for people). Essentially, many of the worries that were affecting my future were gone as I found my way to be the me I wanted to be (busier, more helpful, etc.). The session prior to that, the out of control Parkinson's life had caught up to me and body slammed me for the first time since its defined self came into my world, but good.

In hindsight, it was good to be able to have someone to talk to. Hug therapy and stoic philosophy only go so far. That said, a gift from the universe helps, too. Sometimes, we don't know how lost we are until we hit some ugly realization of the storm we're compensating for.

Anyway, at the early October session, we were talking about maintaining identity, which is something that every single person on this planet contemplates, whether actively or subconsciously. We want to know that we are something good and existing as us, not some bull in a china shop who is brushing up against things and knocking them all around.

As a Parkie, life is about balancing the new me with the old me. Like many of you, I had a life of who I was before Avalanche Day. Today, I am a part of that person. However, I also get to be parts of me that are Parkinson's.

From the minute Parkinson's symptoms came into play, minuscule fractions of that guy vanished as the bridges and highways of my brain were affected. The infrastructure of my brain slowed down, and I compensated in balance / posture / new ways of doing the same old things. Along the way, I adjusted my life accordingly.

Mike and I talked about one of those adjustments, which was giving up teaching. As a lover of knowledge (my geeky side) and a person who values education, I didn't want to lose that sense of who I was, after all I was fated to be a teacher all those years ago when I drove through Nevada for the first time.

At that point, we discussed how writing about Parkinson's is teaching, though it feels different. I see it as more sharing the experience so you can see the road you may find yourself on. I don't lecture a room, record attendance, grade papers, or demand cell phones are turned off when I'm writing! Then again, I'm not actively guiding people through feedback or directions of how to accomplish things when I'm writing either.

Mind you, I don't miss grading papers. I sometimes miss the lectures, but as a whole, other than the individualized guided help sessions and opportunities such as encouraging students to do things like go to academic conferences, I miss it a lot less than I thought I would.

Nevertheless, I still feel a teacher's voice inside of me, just in another way and for other things.

This leads me to where I am at this point in my life (as thinking like this does you in yours). Of the things that define you, how many of them are you doing?

I am a traveler, and while I'm still driving, I'm now the Jack Kerouac to my wife's Neal Cassidy (she drives while I'm riding shotgun, but we're still On the Road). Fortunately, I had my cross country jaunts, so I can always look back on those days as an "old man with his memories." I would encourage anyone to hit the open highway to see the world. Culture is best experienced in person with history and society flowing in our veins. You'll never regret anywhere you went (only places you should have gone).

I still go hiking, but the distances are far shorter, and there's a lot of time between the hikes. I definitely need to remedy this.

In our most recent trip, last weekend, my wife and I took in the Great Falls of the Potomac on the way home from Baltimore. We had been there before, but this time we saw it in autumn with rushing waters (instead of spring colors and low water). It's a short walk down the Potomac to do all the vistas (maybe a flat mile round trip). It's very accessible if you're tempted to go, should you be in the Baltimore / D.C. area.

By the way, people with permanent disabilities can get into national parks for free.

Yes, that is a rainbow on the waters!

I'm still a writer, though I haven't found the time to write fiction or non-fiction lately (until the snow day I was on earlier this week - work let out early, though it took 3 times as long to get home!).

I'm still able to love and appreciate the sci fi / archaeology / history / supernatural stuff, but that's not a defined version of me (just an interest umbrella).

I still follow baseball, though I'm not as devoted to it as I was when I was single.

I still find time to read, the news / non fiction / fiction. However, the anxiety I feel while reading them isn't proactive to making me happier. Then again, I don't think many people are content with right now.

I still love music, though I don't really find much connection to new releases or discovering them in the way that I used to. That said, it's not like I'm hurting for things to listen to (it's just I've heard many of them before).

I still eat too many cheese steaks for my own good.

I still enjoy the random sights and sites of American culture and all that it offers to do (music, theater, roadside attractions, historical places, unique fun experiences).

But what is this to my identity?

I can't say I'm identified by a sports team. Yes, I found myself rooting for Boston in the World Series, though I would have rooted for a good game if not for Manny Machado and his history with Boston and the rest of the league. Is it enough to just be a fan of 1 sport?

I have a sense of spirituality, but I'm not someone who recruits for my religion actively and openly, let alone wearing a badge to show my denomination. Nevertheless, I feel a definite need for God.

The same is true for my politics. Being in the middle, I find it hard to know where I am when neither side represents all that I am or am not. Nevertheless, I'm open to compromise and the best of both worlds.

It would be so much easier to be Mike Pence who is Christian / conservative / Republican (in that order). Instead, I often feel like Eugene O'Neill's hairy ape, struggling to fit in. Yeah, being a bull in a china shop is never easy, but it's the lot that Parkinson's leaves so many of us.

On much of that same note, I'm not self-identified by my colleges, nor do I feel an overwhelming connection to the military, though I am who I am, for better or worse because of my time spent in these institutions. I respect people who are. Maybe if I had been on a ship or in a combat unit, I would feel closer to that post discharge place, but that wasn't my military self. Likewise, if I had been into the tailgating / football Saturday world, I might feel differently about college as a name of where I went, but for me it was just an opportunity to learn. Nevertheless, I do feel a connection to professors who gave me that chance and their individual attention.

Obviously, like many of you, I have Parkinson's, but I'm not claiming that as my identity. Yes, there are the disclaimers and symptoms, but I don't want to be defined by this (as you don't either). I definitely don't like that it robs my old interests from me!

So what am I?

Sitting down with my Office of Vocational Rehab guy, Gary, who is also a good guy, we also looked at the results of my neurological baseline test.

On the positive side, I'm still thankful for the intelligence parts, but I think about the loss of speed in making decisions and the memory parts. I think about how Parkinson's has affected my personality, and how complicated it makes things sometimes.

Tom Friedman writes about the speed of Walmart's Internet site fighting to keep up with Amazon by accelerating search logarithms in fractions of a second to keep people hooked. While we can't see loss like that in our life (because we've compensated), it shows up like it does at the Daytona 500 when cars that are a mile or 2 slower an hour than the leader are lapped over and over. Here, it's all in comparison. My life didn't notice my inability to match symbols as quickly as I should until I was compared to other people. Then, I realized that I don't have the ability to save the world with instantaneous decision making anymore.

Besides, that's what we have Chuck Norris for.

So it goes.

Thinking back to the neurological baseline test I took 8 weeks ago and all that it was, a series of tests, some challenging / fun and some seemingly impossible / frustrating. I'm sure other experiences will vary on the Weschler Test, but I will say that my time with it left me feeling a few things.

Obviously, as an intelligent person with Parkinson's who is losing / will lose his mental functioning over time, it leaves me wanting to "leave less of a footprint" on the world around me. In life, I and many other people have opportunities to impact a lot of people who we know nothing about. The acronym below is a good model for me and others to fall back on. Even with Parkinson's face and voice mixed with being in a world that is pretty Dan-centric, that is a challenge since dopamine can leave my mood fluctuating. Whether it's not smiling enough or being "snappy" at people, it's not passing a Dale Carnegie class.

Hence, I'm working on it.

As teachers / professionals / leaders / the adults in the room, people have to do a lot more to tell other people why they need to do specific things. Because the syllabus / boss / doctor / parent said so isn't good enough. If I'm doing something that challenges me in a way that is beyond my abilities, I need to know why. Even the concept of folding t-shirts into 6-inch squares and tweezing the ends to get them even (spraying them with starch to stay there) had a purpose (attention to detail is everything with lives on the line - though my ability to fold said shirts wasn't something I could use to stop terrorists). I'd like to hope I've always done this as something more than "because I said so" (for instance,  we need to learn Civil War history in English 11th grade to understand the story Gods and Generals; some people don't even know the Abraham Lincoln part of that). 

As an educational professional, I can tell you that many college majors are losing math requirements that don't matter anymore for them. Algebra doesn't need to hold people back from a job unless the job requires algebra, trigonometry, or calculus. I used to believe this was watering things down. Now I see it as creating people who can get paid to make a difference for others while financially supporting their family units (self / others). 

Here, I also feel we should be more open to questions and issues that people might have while going through the process. Not everyone is attacking our credentials. And yes, I know I have to work on this.

As for my personal areas of frustration:

On said psych test, listening to Casio beeps from the 1970s might tell if I have hearing issues, but on an ancient audio cassette, they all sound pretty similar. That said, I know I have hearing issues. I just would have liked a clearer range of sounds as being different or the same to feel like I had a fighting chance at the questions.

Listening to 15 or so pairs of unconnected words read off like an auctioneer and being asked for B when the tester says A feels like something designed to trip people up. Doing something and coming off terribly in the response doesn't feel good, even if we end up in an average or above average percentile when compared against other testers.

Hearing 10 "incorrect" responses in a row on a series of pattern questions when we can't figure out the pattern is very demoralizing. Additionally, when we're told to guess anyway, having no idea what's correct, feels like setting us up to keep hearing the response of "incorrect." Had I guessed correctly, the answers would have been worthless. That's not fun when I already feel like I have a condition that's literally causing me to "lose my mind."

A test like the blindfolded project to put shapes into a standing board with 1 hand makes a lot more sense when the OVR guy says that this is the skill that electricians and HVAC people use when they're working in hidden, enclosed spaces as compared to just the feeling that I need to do something or I'm uncooperative and venting, or prone to my own way (though in actuality, I can be all 3 things for plenty of other reasons, too).

In the end, there are times when we need to suck it up and do. Going into something that is that kind of a necessity goes a lot better with an explanation / disclaimer in the beginning than a feeling of "you're here; now perform."

My time with the test was rough, but I finished. I didn't not want to finish. Some people get frustrated and walk away. The doctor even stated this when I asked him how do other people do.

That said, a test that is for our own good shouldn't make us feel that way.

Should you take the test, I can only say this is a test of you. However, you can't study for it. Nevertheless, you can know what it's trying to get out of you. You should ask questions. You shouldn't be left to feel inferior or a fraction of yourself (like I did) after taking the test.

Take this not as a validity of the test, but rather as words of advice to the next tester, should you need to get one to show disability.

And please remember, your test scores are not your identity unless you let them be your identity.

And this brings me back to my identity now.

I'm still almost all the things I was back in the beginning of this blog...

I am a husband to Heather

I am a son to John and Essie

I am a brother to Beth

I am a nephew to Toot, Dave, Pat, Steve, and Deb

I am Big D’s godfather

I am Uncle Dan to over 20 different kids and adults in Pennsylvania and Ohio

I am a cousin and all other kinds of family related tags

I am a friend to some really great people who have listened to my story about this and been there in good times and rough days

I’m a Berks County Boy living in Ephrata, smack dab in the middle of Amish Paradise

I am an educational adviser who works hard to push people to be great while teaching them how to write well, and for this, I’ve seen some really great people I feel awesome about working with
I am the proud product of a community college, which transformed my life
I am a writer of ghost stories, Parkinson's blogs, and outdoor tales
I may write ghost stories, but I believe in God and the power of true love
I went to a Catholic college whose teachers also influenced me

I am a hiker who is active in hiking groups to include the Standing Stone Trail, which in my humble opinion is the best trail in Pennsylvania

I am a photographer

I love music from all genres, especially Polyphonic Spree and Neutral Milk Hotel

I’m a baseball fan

I served in the Air Force

I like chocolate iced donuts, cheese steaks, and pizza more than I should

I’m heavily influenced by stories of people overcoming hardship.

I have a weird sense of humor

I’d like to think I’m a good person, but I’ve done some knuckleheaded things that I wish I could undo, too
The Stockdale Paradox is my defining code.

In the end, I am me. I am working to better myself and to enjoy life without getting so hung up on the feelings of futility and sadness. Whatever that may be, so be it. That's me!

Sometimes, all I need is a little push of inspiration from a great therapist. Yeah, that session was my last one until I feel I need him again. The same is true for my Office of Vocational Rehab case, though we are going to meet up again, eventually, to discuss potential work needs or progress.

It felt good to graduate, even if it's only a chapter of my life.

Additionally, sometimes all we need is a voice for the cause... but that's the next post to come (with American Ninja Warrior Jimmy Choi and my wife Heather; yes, he really is that awesome in person).

PART 1: Disabled vs. Disability vs. Differently Abled vs. (add your name here)

Part 2 of this is HERE.

Earlier this year, my wife and I went to Yosemite. Since I have a National Parks Pass for people with disabilities (THEY'RE FREE IF YOU KNOW ANYONE WITH A PERMANENT DISABILITY - NOT JUST A BROKEN LEG FOR THE TIME BEING), they gave me a tag for my car. This was so we could park in the designated handicap spots.

ALL OF OUR YOSEMITE PICTURES ARE HERE

In my article for Health Union (see here for many other conditions and stories of those who live through them - they're much more than just Parkinson's), I wrote:

Sure, I hike with a limp, but I can walk. Now, I had access to special parking spots. Does this mean I’m at a new level? Does Parkinson’s have me (like the pod people in Invasion of the Body Snatchers)? As a person who found his health condition at the mid-life mark, I now face this confrontation.

Let’s just say the access pass wasn’t the bonanza of front row parking that some people might think it is. Instead, I had a mental hurdle to cross. The placard might as well have said, “You’re less Dan now. Ready for the confidence shake?”

As my wife and I walked through the lot, I wondered if people were looking for a visual disability. After all, most of mine are invisible, save the tremors and the rigidity. I thought about how people judge active people with disabilities they can’t see.

NOTE - I used the permit once, and never used it again. As stated by a commenter, it's something to forgo since I could walk, AND it's something I don't need, which is why my car doesn't have a disability plate.

You can read the WHOLE ARTICLE if you choose, but the point is

WHAT AM I IN THE EYES OF MEDICAL SCIENCE, THE LAW, AND MY OWN ABILITIES? WHAT AM I IN THE EYES OF MY NEIGHBORS AND FELLOW PEOPLE? WHAT AM I IN THE EYES OF ME?

The CDC defines disability HERE.

These include conditions related to impairment, activity limitation, and participation restriction.

That seems pretty straight forward, but what if you can't see my disability and I'm active or at least taking pictures of me on the day when I told my nap I wasn't going to take it? Granted, I have a tire around the middle, but what if you think that because I hike in rocky places (when you wouldn't), I don't have disability "issues" and "concerns?"

What if you think I am just peachy because I can still do that when I'm no longer wanting to do solo 30 foot rock climbs like this  (at Hawk Mountain) or waterfall climbs up the falls like this (at Sullivan Run) and this, its frozen cousin at Ricketts Glen (and that isn't a fun thought, by the way).

All you know about my internal body heat getting out of control is that I must be the smelly kid if I look like this after 20ish miles on the Standing Stone Trail in 2013. You don't realize that I am on my way to looking like that in short order on a walk that's about 4 blocks long in my neighborhood yesterday (seeing as it was 90°+).

You see me as able to walk, type, talk, see, laugh, and play. You don't always catch my robotic voice, my non-smile, my inability to hear soft, high-pitched voices, my lack of smell, or my unblinking eyes and associate them with other things SLOWING down, too (although they do).

So let me ask you this, as I did my wife the other day when we were talking about the long disability process (partial / full / future / changes / etc.) and how I discuss being relatively "active" when I speak to people concerning it. 

Here I should emphatically state the boulder climb was last year, the frozen waterfall was 2015, and the running water climb was 2014. Also, keep in mind, my diagnosis was September 27, 2016. I still go out to places like the Throne Room (hiking through rock fields to stunning vistas) because I want to enjoy life. Why shouldn't I? Would it make people happier to know that by being diagnosed with Parkinson's that I am truly unable to do things. I mean, I could never dunk a basketball, let along fake out Lebron to dunk on him, but why can't there still be things I can do when there are other things I can't do / never will be able to do?

Thus, here is question # 1. What if Jimmy Choi is an American Ninja Warrior supreme? Does that mean that he's not someone with a disability?

There's a lot of famous people with Parkinson's. 

There's a lot of famous people with disabilities.

They do what it is they do and want to do and need to do. Does that mean that their conditions don't create other new normals for them?

There are a lot of athletes with disabilities. These include Jim Abbott, who has 1 arm and an MLB level no hitter to his name. His story was featured on Comedy Central's Drunk History.

Seeing as I'm a baseball guy, I'm a little more familiar with people like this (Lou Gehrig, MLB Hall of Famer, you rocked! See my story on his first season playing with ALS (which is the best baseball season ever!!!).

So yeah, here's Pete Gray who was the last pro hitter with one arm.

Here's a great story about one-armed baseball players including a lot of kids who do despite what other kids and adults make them feel that they can't do.

Adam Bender is a tough as nails kid. Despite having one leg, his life has been about giving it his all. Even when he was profiled during his elementary school days, he was still Navy SEAL tough.

Here's another list of people with disabilities who were / are successful in spite of them.

Nevertheless, in a world where the wheelchair is the symbol that many people think of regarding disabilities, what about invisible disabilities? For me, this is everything that bradykinesia does to slow people, like me, with Parkinson's down. This is also exhaustion, mental overload, medication side effects, and cognitive issues. For a friend of mine with ulcerative colitis, this is the need to always be around a bathroom and lots of exhaustion. For many of us with disabilities, apathy and depression are the permanent unwanted guest. For as good as we might look, we have our issues.

Just because you see us having a good time doesn't mean we're any less "diagnosed."

Additionally, my boots keep my claw toes in check, but without them, it hurts to walk distances. This is why I don't wear sneakers. Nevertheless, with boots AND poles, I can balance on rocks. Yes, I'm actually more comfortable walking a rock field in boots than from my car to my job.

But even when we're still ourselves (in my case Dan), we're still battling our conditions to stay us. 

"Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it rains (Bull Durham)." 

The point is that there are outliers who run marathons and kick butt. Sure, we can be the outliers. Most likely, we will do our thing and just be. However, we'll always have the monkey on our back to fight with. On those days, we'll get our GRRR on.

Whether you see it or not. 

So in the end, I'm Dan, but I'm Dan with an evil sidekick who constantly taunts me.

For that, I have a condition that always affects me. It may not be the condition someone else thinks of being "truly" disabled. It may have come on later than another condition. Nevertheless, it's something that affects me now, and it will affect me more later.

Whether other people understand that or not, it's true. That said, whether I think I always can let me be a person first, I need to keep being Dan, regardless.

Letting Parkinson's have me is letting me turn into a pod person, and that's not happening... no matter what symptom I'm stuck with.

In a world filled with so many wonderful things to see and do (this is the Faroe Islands), anything less would be anathema, especially when I control the equation.

A Day in the Life: Parkinson's at its Best and Worst

Tonight, athletic hero (and Parkinson's wonder warrior) Jimmy Choi successfully beat 2 obstacles on American Ninja Warrior. He almost beat the third. It really was that close.

Whatever he does or doesn't do, he'll get my cheers. Nevertheless, for the advocacy he performs and the fundraising he makes possible, that man is one of the best weapons we have going. From 240lbs and a cane to rock hard pythons that could compete with Hulk Hogan, Choi is an example of what is possible with heart. This doesn't mean that being an American Ninja Warrior is the only way to win, but it does mean that WHILE WE CAN, we need to be living as forward and people first as possible. 

Being energetic, however, defeats rigidity. For this, whatever your hobby and if you can do it safely, do it!

Remember, being energized and unafraid to live our lives in public makes people root for our cause, be it as a marathon runner or a grandparent.

Former Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell learned that today as he came out after being diagnosed with Parkinson's 3 years ago. And while I have to say, "Politics aside, people," since some people will remember him for that, I commend him for who he is today. His voice will do wonders for bringing support and recognition to our cause. 

People who choose to see him only as a Democrat will fail to see him as a persevering person, fighting the condition we share (or people we love share).

I wanted to take some quotes from a pair of articles and share them with you.

"I always viewed myself as indestructible, never missed a day of work through my working career," Rendell said.

The more human we get with our words, the more empathy we create. This isn't something he did to himself. This is a sneak attack (though he did have PD family history). By stating things as is without looking for a fight, we win hearts and minds.

BELOW, Good advice from doctors...

Heather Cianci, a physical therapist at Good Shepard Penn Partners said, "Because we know there is a cognitive slowness with Parkinson's, so there's a way to bring that to the forefront, stay ahead of it so we can slow it down."

"Our goal is really - when we make that diagnosis is to communicate to patients that our goal is really to keep you functioning if not normally, then close to it for many, many years," Dr. Matthew Stern said.

"Unbelievable, in fact my hands are steadier now than when I first started getting symptoms," Rendell said.

As a person who traffics in optimism, this last quote above, used out of context, bothers me. It almost seems to say we can stop this. Right now, we can't. We'd like to stop this, but that goal is ahead of the technology, though dedicated women and men are putting PD on defense as they go after it, Mike Tyson style. 

Here, I hope Rendell keeps boxing, fighting, and advocating and finding people to create that technology, but I don't want people to think that all Parkies have to do is eat better, take their meds, and keep active, and I or anyone else will be OK.

I believe it's coming, but will it happen before I see the big guns, granddaddy finishing moves coming at the end of the match? I'd be happy just to be stopped where I am.

Thus, before I leave you with the thoughts Tom Wolf (now PA Governor) has for Mr. Rendell, let me just say...

1) Just like Choi and Rendell (and Jackson and I), put your face up and choose to be the change you want to see in the world. I realize being out in the job world is scary, but if you can, be loud, proud, and work to the solution you need.

2) It doesn't matter who you are or how you do it, provided it's done with love and respect, but get out there and express in so many detailed words the fullness of our experience as Parkies. This helps doctors, family, friends, scientists, and the public feel for our cause and want to make a change. You don't need to be a writer, but you need to be confident, detailed, fair-minded, and engaged. I know we can all do that!

“Frances and I are sending our thoughts and encouragement to our friend Ed Rendell today. Pennsylvania has seen few leaders as tough as Ed and we have full confidence that neither has Parkinson’s disease. Ed should know that the entire commonwealth is standing behind him and hoping for the continued success of his treatment and therapy. As he always has, he is putting others first by going public with his diagnosis so others can also get the help they need. We are proud of everything Gov. Rendell did and does every day for Pennsylvania and Philadelphia. We look forward to continuing to work with him to build stronger and safer communities for a long time to come.”