Humbled (again)

As I enter the 17th year since my Parkinson’s diagnosis, anxiety surges forth from the deepest recesses of my being, a primal “fight or flight” response that meets my brain’s inability to process the simplest of tasks halfway, swirling together in a mix of panicky fear and reasoned concern. At least temporarily, I am back in the darker version of the hellish never-world of my pre-DBS (Deep Brain Stimulation surgery) life.

Sheer will—my only faithfully reliable tool—gradually succumbs to Parki...