Columns

I was in line behind a young mother at the grocery store last week. She was probably in her early 40s and had three beautiful children in tow. The line moved slowly, so I was stuck listening to her lengthy cellphone conversation. She was loudly discussing her problems and focusing…

When my parents moved into their current house about 10 years ago, one thing they quickly learned about the property was that the previous owner had Parkinson’s disease. From what they understood, the man took his last breaths in the house, living out the end of his days…

Caring for my father, who is battling Parkinson’s disease, has been an emotional journey defined by the unwavering presence of love. In the face of this debilitating condition, every caregiving moment has become a testament to the profound impact of compassion and connection even as the symptoms persist.

One of my most vivid parenting memories involves my oldest daughter, Alexa, who’s now 27. We lived in Boston then, and I had enrolled her in a preschool program for 3-year-olds. She would be at school twice weekly from 10 a.m. until noon, which worked perfectly with her strict…

When I was in college, I worked as a waitress. One of the things I found remarkable was that I could go to work grumpy and leave happy. Was it because my co-workers were so fun? (They were.) Was it because the food was good? (It was.) Was it the…

My dad, who has Parkinson’s disease, has experienced some weight loss recently. I have theories about that. I think it’s partly because of his Parkinson’s tremors, which not only increase his energy output, but also make it more difficult for him to eat (which could mean that he’s…

There’s a small white church near the entrance to my old neighborhood. I used to drive by it daily. Outside the church was a large sign where meaningful quotes were posted. Over the 20 years I lived in that home, I noted a few that resonated with me. “Worry is…

The pneumatic doors whooshed open, revealing an expansive, tiled lobby and a closed door about 15 feet away. I entered the fluorescent-washed space, but Eric’s awkward, lumbering gait halted. I offered him my hand. “You OK?” “Yeah.” He used me as leverage to deliberately rock his left foot forward to…

Until recently, my husband, Arman, and I have been very private about his Parkinson’s diagnosis and our life dealing with the disease. He was diagnosed in 2009 with early-onset Parkinson’s at age 38. Before I started writing this column, titled “The Bright Side,” only our closest friends…

Have you ever pondered the question “Who am I?” Personally, I never have. This won’t surprise anyone who knows me, as I’m not the type of person who self-reflects. But I recently started thinking about it as I began researching how identity can change after a Parkinson’s diagnosis.