[first published 13th Jan – unsure of the blog to which it refers]
I’m wondering whether yesterday’s post, despite the caveat regarding its brevity, may have been lacking in meat for some of those who took the trouble to click the link. But, as with many things, the piece was evidence of a collection of thoughts in transit from floating about the aether, unsupported and unfulfilled, to finding concrete expression in words formed by molecules of black gunk lying upon mashed-up and reconstituted trees. Or on a kindle.
Self-determination and identity, these were the topics, and they still are. That and how PD interacts with them. No pressure, then! Let’s start with two of the more thorny philosophical and psychological issues ever to grace the table, and add in a generous slug of brain disease and mix well, ensuring that it’s impossible to tell which came first … who’s for playing chicken?
Naturally, the problem increases exponentially with each addition, so matters stand a good chance of getting severely out of hand.
I’ve talked about individual symptoms before, though perhaps failed to show quite how difficult it can be to separate the causes of various of these irritating happening into disease/drug dichotomy … not least because the drug I am on is not one which does direct action, so to speak but one which seeks to re-establish conditions conducive to quelling whatever pesky parkinsonisms I happen to be manifesting.
So far (and I write at 11am), I have fallen asleep some five times … waking each time with my fingers on my keyboard (here we go again). Sleep:food:return. (I was right – drifted off twice during that sentence alone. Writing can be a tough gig sometimes. There I go again. Right. Stop.)