Mary Beth is a freelance writer specializing in personal narratives. Her work focuses on the outdoors and the transformative powers of nature. When her dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's in 2013, her search to understand the disease materialized through language. She now writes to help others understand the disease and how to be a compassionate caregiver.When I stumble through the door on my recent visit home, I’m not entirely prepared for the sight that greets me. My dad looks like he’s walking through molasses, and my mom is hobbling around on a bad hip. I’d seen them both just a few months earlier. Mom’s…
It is a Thursday evening when my sister asks me to come up with fake illnesses to give my dad. He has just received his first dose of the COVID-19 mRNA vaccine, and my sister, ever the practical jokester, wants to tease him.
Last weekend, I was exploring a South Carolinian swamp when my phone buzzed. It was my dad. “Call me after 2,” the text glowed on my phone. “OK,” I responded. After I’d wiped the swamp juice from my shoes and peeled back my muddy socks, I dialed my dad. Usually…
While I was home last Christmas, I had an argument with a loved one that caused tensions in the household to rise. The disagreement wasn’t with my dad, who has Parkinson’s disease. But I realized later, after speaking to him, that the situation had negatively affected him, too. In fact,…
I don’t have Parkinson’s disease, but my dad does. And sometimes I wonder how lonely it can be. Even when we as loved ones try to understand the disease, experiencing the symptoms seems really isolating. No, I don’t know what it’s like to struggle with tremors, dyskinesia, or freezing. Random…
When we’re born into this world, it takes us about seven months to sit up for the first time. It takes about a year to learn how to walk. The learning process is long and difficult, and riddled with unsuccessful attempts and blunders along the way. The act of walking…
The morning is crisp and the ground is frozen by the brutal Michigan winter temperatures. I pile my belongings into the back of my Subaru as I prepare to say my goodbyes, again. In 2020, I spent nearly three months here, the most time I had been at…
“What?” I ask from across the room, closing the distance between my dad and me. I don’t want to ask him to repeat himself again. “Can you grab me a glass of water and my pills?” Dad raises his voice, and this time I hear him. I fill a mug…
Every once in a while, the urge to crochet washes over me. It usually happens when the temperatures start to dip into the 30s when Christmas is just around the corner. During a recent visit home, the desire to make something with my hands emerged…
A few nights ago, Dad and I were watching an episode of “Star Trek” when he decided it was time for a bowl of ice cream. He doesn’t like to take his medications in the evening because the side effects affect…
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