Scene: Late Saturday AM at the Macon home of me — the Shuffling Editor (license plate SHFL ED) — and spouse Struby, The Great Copy Editor.
Shuffle and Great are finishing a two-hour conversation with three Parkie couples about the struggle for control of your lifeamidst Parkinson’s many curve balls.
The front door bursts open.
It’s Chuck and Shirley. “Are we late for the Pot Luck lunch?” Chuck asks, waving two bags of fried chicken.
Great and Shuffle are stunned.
Chuck and Shirley are members of the earlier PD Study/Action Group.
Well, no, they are not late for the Potluck scheduled for the followingSaturday.
“I was certain it was today,“ Chuck says.
Shirley rolls her eyes.
It’s a Parkinson’s thing, this mental confusion about dates and times.
(Another member of the first Study/Action Group appeared a day late for a breakfast meeting of Shuffle’s unrelated First Amendment Tribe (FAT) group.)
Twelve pieces of chicken and two beers later for the four of us, Chuck says they will return the following Saturday for the potluck
Just another day with Parkinson’s, the Great Disrupter.
1 thought on “The Improv Life With Parkinson’s”
If we stop laughing, we must be dead…
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