December 27, 2007
After the Parkinson’s diagnosis, I often lay in bed watching the clock tick past 2:00 am, 3:00 am, 4:00 am, contemplating the cruelty of my life sentence. The disease was targeting my right side, which I’d depended on for years to compensate for the stroke that had weakened the left. I was running out of sides. One morning, I called my friend, Cathy, who was battling her second round of cancer treatments. I asked her how she did it, got through the nights. She said that though there were times that flossing before turning in seemed an exercise in optimism, she did do one thing before she fell asleep.