PD: The WE Journey – a Column by Jill Hammergren

Caregiving for a loved one is one of the most challenging, demanding, and often frustrating jobs that I can think of. My husband, Eric, and I never anticipated that I’d be his caregiver, but Parkinson’s disease changed our reality. I’ve learned that caring for someone is one of the…

As a caregiver to a husband with Parkinson’s disease, I often feel like we’re in an unseaworthy boat surrounded by sharks, searching for a lighthouse. So far, nearly 11 years after my husband Eric’s Parkinson’s diagnosis, we’ve been able to ride the waves of the disease’s progression.

During our shared Parkinson’s journey, my husband, Eric, and I have experienced much frustration, anger, and heartache over the challenges that the disease imposes on our lives. For my mental well-being, I meditate and practice mindful moments. I recently did a guided meditation with one of my favorite authors…

The air rushed out of my lungs, and tears filled my eyes. Eric’s face dropped, and his shoulders slumped. Simultaneously, we’d been gut-punched. In 2014, 7.2 billion people lived on Earth, but on that April day, we felt as if we’d been plucked out of the world we knew…

Many of us readily lend a hand when a loved one, friend, or neighbor needs support, especially if it’s a one-time occurrence. These are typically straightforward things like driving them to an appointment when their car isn’t working, providing a meal when they’ve had an illness or death in the…

I’ve always advocated for accessibility for all. For more than 30 years, I worked and volunteered for organizations supporting and encouraging opportunities for people with disabilities. Now, as a caregiver for someone with a debilitating movement disorder that causes mobility issues, accessibility is personal and paramount. As my husband,…

I’ve often heard people scoff “It’s not rocket science” or “It’s not brain surgery” when expecting someone to accomplish an easy task. But as I tried to calm my jangling nerves, an important clarification ran through my mind: “This is brain surgery.” I was alone with my thoughts in the hospital waiting room…

The 25-watt red bulb in the bedside table lamp gives the room an eerie glow. I chuckle as I remember my husband, Eric, and I giggling when we bought that novelty cherry bulb 15 years ago. At times, we joked it was our “love lamp.” Now, we visit the red-light…

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…