Shaky Foot Wisdom
IV.
August 9, 2020
What If?
This morning, the bright orange ’67 Chevy Camaro resplendent with the finest pencil thin black pinstriping, dual pipes purring, pulls into the parking space emblazoned DENIAL. Naturally, I slide into this old familiar spot as if I am the by god damn Chairman of the Board!
My companion this day is an ole chap I have known far too long, What If?
Me and What If? call this meeting to order. The first order of business is to usher all medical experts from the room because science be damned. Suppose both diagnosticians in the guise of learned neurologists were just plain wrong. What if I don’t have by god dam Parkinson’s Disease? After all, the resting tremors, with meds four times a day, seem to be somewhat at bay.
So what if the low lying glimmer of fog has settled just barely on the horizon, I know who I am and I know all the BIG words, even three of the five memory words: field, daisy, red, velvet and whatever the hell the other one was too. And I can yet write inspired ecstatic poetry bespeaking of ancient truths forever known.
I can also recall many times when living by the seat of my pants and acting as if or even What If? got me through both tough times and tough jobs. Somehow though I am not convinced that taking up permanent residence in DENIAL’S boardroom, is my best hope for the future.
For now, the orange Chevy Camaro that never was is vanquished as I slowly and carefully headfirst pull the silver Fusion into the carport. With a deep breath and a sigh, I ask the question, PD what do you wish me to do now?
