January 11, 2013

A Song with a Cautionary Message for You Blog Readers

This classic song and rendition are terrific and have come to mind frequently in the past few years as I find "my way" to deal with aging and Parkinson's and life in general. But the lyrics and the performer have a bit too much "Ain't I Great!" flavor for my taste.

Don't get me wrong. I like Sinatra. After all, the combination of his In The Wee Small Hours album (LP, not CD) and martinis led to my marriage.

All of this is by way of making a couple of points that I've been thinking about as I research health issues and write this blog.
  • I'm not touting "my way." The more I explore Parkinson's and other health issues, the more aware I become of how idiosyncratic each disease is. And the same goes for the different ways each of us responds to particular medications and therapies. Yet most of us have tried a medicine, dietary supplement, new diet, or a "new age" therapy based on nothing more than a few anecdotal reports or a media appearance by a product huckster. In reading any of my reports on something that seems to be working for me, don't assume it will work for you. Check it out if you think you might want to try it, and get your doctor's OK. But it's almost certain you won't have the same reaction I did. I don't want this blog to turn me into another Mary Newport. She's the Florida doctor who saw dramatic improvements in her husband's Alzheimer's disease after feeding him lots of coconut oil. Her video and book have been promoted by Pat Robertson's Christian Broadcast Network, launching the coconut-oil-can-cure-AD craze: http://bit.ly/T4Dpv3).
  • "My way" is evolving.  "My way" today is the result of a lifetime of hyperactivity, borderline attention deficit disorder, and neophilia (novelty-seeking). A couple of  friends have said they sometimes feel guilty reading my blog posts because they aren't nearly as active as I seem to be. Relax. There's a lot to be said for a more contemplative life and for taking the time to savor life slowly and deeply. I'm moving more in that direction as I age. I'm beginning to relish "the joy of quiet." Interestingly, as I begin planning the Mediterranean cruise with my family this summer, I look forward to the quiet times sitting on my suite's balcony at night much more than the daily tours of the cities along the way.

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