Thanksgiving 2021. Like most people (I hope), we were able to have a pretty normal Thanksgiving. Our regular group assembled around an impressive (and delicious selection I must say) rack of lamb, glazed ham and turkey. Each prepared with a personally created marinade and or glaze and cooked to perfection. Side-dishes, including legendary orange rolls, were equally delicious and plentiful. Conversation was spirited, provocative and funny as hell. Masks were optional. I was going to write in the heading “Post-Covid” Thanksgiving but that is not the case and won’t be for the foreseeable future. In grateful hindsight, the word “Covid” wasn’t mentioned at all. I wish all parties could interact like my small universe. We are all cognizant of Covid and the negative possibilities but have come to our own conclusions on a personal path forward. I don’t see an end in sight and believe we will eventually treat it like any other “flu” with annual shots developed as a best-guess for the current strain. At which point the seasonal and covid strains merge is anyone’s guess.

Michael J. Fox has been fighting to keep Parkinson’s disease front and center for decades. I don’t see him in the media much anymore but admire the tenacity that he and his family have, working constantly to keep his message relevant. I’m sure like any illness, malady or disease, the greater the chance you (or someone close to you) are to contracting it, the more attention you pay it. I have always liked MJF and was shocked when he announced his Parkinson’s. Prior to this, my knowledge was vague, so for the uninformed like me, it offered an explanation of the disease and a description of the symptoms. Like most, I felt bad … and never really gave it a second thought—until Sid. He was to this day, my favorite neighbor. He was a strong guy that was always active. He had turned his successful business over to his kids and retired—at least from going into the office. With a huge garage filled with vintage motorcycles and a ’55 Nomad, he always had a project at home or at his cabin to keep him busy. One day I noticed he was shaking more than he normally did and asked him if he was “Ok”. He paused for a moment, then looked me in the eyes and said he had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. Things started to make sense. He had been in several car accidents recently and while he was fine, he started driving less which surprised me. While there is no cure he said, doctors were hopeful they could mitigate the effects to give him as full a life as possible. It broke my heart when he started culling his bike collection. I know it made him happy for his grandkids to pick a favorite one to keep, but selling the bulk of them at the auction was hard to watch. Early one evening, after pulling into my garage, I noticed Sid sprawled out on his front lawn. I hollered but got no answer so I ran across the street to him. As I kneeled over getting ready to take a pulse, he stirred, smiled, and asked what was going on. “Ah shit Sid, I thought you were dead”! “Nope, not yet” was his answer. I helped him to his feet and into the house. I stayed and visited with he and his wife Cheryl for a time, both of them saying things seemed to be improving, all of us agreeing —in words anyway. Several months later I heard the sirens and ran out my front door just in time to see them heading in with a stretcher. I stood in his driveway, feeling paralyzed. I wanted to assist but felt helpless as they brought him outside and headed to the ambulance. Cheryl stood in the doorway crying and screaming as they drove away. His funeral carriage was his ’55 Nomad bedecked with a large American flag. For me, I’m not sure which came first, the odd shake in my wrist or the restless legs. The shake isn’t often and is totally random and seems to be primarily on the right side. The restless leg however has gotten worse. It’s so odd, during the day when I’m active I don’t give it a second thought, but at night if I haven’t taken the tramadol, my legs slowly twist in knots. Relief occurs only during the brief time it takes to move from one side to the other. It is a dull ache that ebbs and flows until there is consistent movement. My doctor has prescribed different doses of Ropinirole that have little if any effect. When I communicate this, he doesn’t enquire any further. All my vitals are good so I’m good —right? I don’t push it. Maybe because I have an antidote in available tramadol, or maybe because I don’t want a truthful diagnosis since my self medication helps. I’ve tried lessening the dose to check if it really does help and in return I receive a horribly restless night. I’ve tried this experiment enough to know it is the only thing that works. Recently, I had the opportunity to talk at length about this with a trusted friend and he suggested contacting a Neurologist rather than expecting a different outcome with my family doctor. When I got home after our conversation I did what anyone would do, I turned to WebMD! The more I dug into the symptoms of restless leg and possible options to alleviate the discomfort, the more connections I found to Parkinson’s. Obviously, Sid started replaying in my mind, especially his finale. Regardless, whether it is restless leg or Parkinson’s, I need an answer. I understood I would need a referral from my doc to get in to see a specialist, so I started there. It’s easiest to go through the administrative “Portal” when trying to communicate with his office. A well-phrased message explaining the need will hopefully get a quicker response than leaving endless voicemails, and besides, the thought of making an appointment to see him so he can simply tell me what I already knew—”You need to see a specialist” made me shudder. After a few hiccups with his office response, I finally received a call offering a name and number of a neurologist. I was happy—but surprised. Unsurprising was the fact he did zero research. This doctor, nor any others in his office took new patients. Shaking my head, I exhaled and decided to take a different approach. I opened my Medicare page and started the hunt for my specialist. Setting the filters, I started at the top and started to call. After a week of leaving multiple messages with no response, I reached out again to my friend. He is a newly retired attorney that was very successful and highly regarded with a network of equally regarded physicians, including neurologists. As I write this, I have contacted his prime pick and left a message. I’ll let you know. FYI-Sid was every bit as cool as his car.