“There will be a cure within five years”.
How many times I have heard that? Eeeerrrrr, about three times. Most people say “There will be a cure within ten years.”
The ten year statement is a fudge. Ten years is far enough away for the prediction to have a reasonable chance of coming true, is far enough away for the person who has just made this statement to break contact with you and vanish so you don’t turn up on their doorstep with a mob of angry parkies, and is far enough away for me as an individual to forget who said it.
Forget these people???? Not a chance. The overly optimistic people who choose the five year figure get a call this morning. The rest are on a list and would be advised to move to Australia, buy a cork hat and go and find a hidey hole in the outback. Otherwise I will find you..
Or maybe I won’t need to. Maybe they will be right. Personally, I think they will be right. Five years in, I think I’m closer to the end of my Parkinson’s journey than the start.
Am I a dreamer? No.
Am I deranged? Possibly, but I don’t think it affects my judgement.
Am I an optomist? Undoubtedly.
Five years is a nice tidy number. Five years ago there was nothing. The mere thought of the future, let alone the potential effects of the disease, was disabling.
What have I done in this week of the anniversary? I have run the Great Scottish half marathon with Karen and Julie, I have plotted the next Wobbly Dinner with Lynda, Jeremy, Herve and Anna, I have discussed cycling a Tour de France with Richard, I have reminisced about Kilimanjaro with anyone who will listen.
Disabling? This disease is enabling.