Introduction to Parkinson's disease

     The visit to the neurologist in Graduate Hospital had been scheduled for a week, so my husband Paul and I were not unduly apprehensive.  His symptoms were simply puzzling to us.  But then we were not doctors nor medically curious; we always took the physicians at their word.  Period.  So carefully we rehearsed the little oddities we had noticed and waited for our doctor's professional opinion.
     Paul's voice had lost its timbre.  Try as he might, no longer could he project his voice and staff meetings had become an embarrassment.  Even the mike was not much help. Our young staff all working side by side with us in fleshing out our dream of Melmark were enthusiastic and direct.
     "We can't hear you, Mr. Krentel."  "Speak up, Mr. K." but he was doing his best and somehow his volume button wasn't working any more. But did this mean anything?
     And his handwriting.  Started out big and got smaller and smaller.  By the time he finished signing his name, it was hard to put it all together.  Little things. But indicative. No tremor, not then, not ever.  That nearly threw me,  It kind of gave me false hope. Paul had a few other early signs of Parkinson's disease.  Kind of a litmus test.  A shiver went down my spine. What I knew about this disease was precious little.  Paul looked as bewildered as I felt.  We finally went home with two presciptions in our pockets and a sample of Sinemet in my pocketbook.  The year was 1988.
     Then all those little things began to snowball.  It became increasingly hard for Paul to fit the key in the lock or to pick the right floor on the elevator.  No matter what it was,  Paul had one explanation,  it was the fault of some piece of "inferior equipment".  Always a mysterious someone had messed with things so they were no longer functional. Along with the insidious ravages of Parkinson's, Paul's impatience with life in general grew steadily, and I, riding at his side in the front seat of our car, saw his abilities decrease at
an alarming rate.
     Soon Paul needed help dressing, shaving and showering.  His aphasia continued to greatly distress him.  He could not find the correct names for the most simple everyday objects.  I found myself living with a man who looked like Paul and sounded like Paul but my real Paul was no longer present.  It was like having a death in the family without benefit of a funeral.
       Only Paul's body was here.
       Nobody had to tell me the name or the symptoms of what was coming.  I knew its name for I could almost see Paul's mind crumbling.  Every day another chunk of it crashed to the earth. I shrank from acknowledging its presence. 
     Alzheimer's is a cruel disorder.  The death of the mind is the worst death imaginable and to witness the disintegration of someone you love right before your very eyes is frightening.  I have heard the phrase that God goes before you.  I believe it. 
        I did not even know I needed help and I had not even dared to pray for someone to relieve me.  But God decided I needed help.  And He went before me.  Her name was Diane and she was a graduate of Philadelphia Biblical University with the disposition of a saint.  She not only moved in with us, but she stayed for two years before she left for Russia as a missionary.
       God is good.