Vibrant and attractive, I had the career, marriage and family I had always dreamed of. Little did I know there was a dark storm cloud looming on the horizon that would soon sweep in and alter life as I knew it. I’m glad I didn’t see it coming.


I began to notice a weakness in my left arm accompanied by a pins and needles sensation. Gradually, I became aware that my left thumb had developed a tremor and would turn into my palm. Easy enough to hide from the public—but I knew something more serious was happening. I didn’t go to the doctor for almost six months. I kept hoping it would go away of its own accord, but on a deeper level I knew I had a serious problem and I suspected it was Parkinson’s Disease.


Finally, it was time to face the music. I got a list of neurologists in my insurance network and made an appointment. I was very fortunate that the second doctor I saw had the diagnosis. He confirmed my suspicions and sent me to Barnes Hospital Movement Disorders Research Group for an extensive exam. I was given a firm diagnosis of Young-Onset Parkinson’s Disease. It was a pivotal life-changing moment that I’ll never forget as long as I live.


I had been handed a life sentence of living with a neurological disorder, a progressive disabling old-person’s disease for which there was no cure. I only had symptoms on my left side and was told with a little luck, I would never experience symptoms on my right side. The prognosis was a good ten years, maybe twenty, before more severe progression impaired my quality of life. I may or may not develop dementia, etc., etc., etc. I saw no luck in any of this.


My husband and I left the sterile, brightly-lit atmosphere of the hospital behind. Outside it was completely dreary and raining as was typical of a February day in the Midwest. A bone-chilling wind whipped at my coat as we hurried to the car in silence. There were no words of comfort.