On 24 July 2008, I was diagnosed with young-onset Parkinson’s. Every year, I pause to reflect on this turning point, and today is no exception: exactly 18 years later. I call it my D-Day, with the “D” standing for Diagnosis. Many people with Parkinson’s have their own D-Day etched into their memory.
D-Day divides your life in two: a part before and a part after. The question I have been asked most often is whether I felt that I had “it”. Not at all. The diagnosis came completely out of the blue. I was 37, full of energy and plans. Parkinson’s did not run in my family, either.
The only thing I noticed was a stiff neck. Friends would tug at the jacket of my suit because they thought it was sitting crookedly. But there was nothing wrong with my suits — I was crooked. I went to my GP, who referred me to a neurologist. His diagnosis was “stress” — at the time, I was working 80 hours a week — and he prescribed physiotherapy.
It did not help. A few weeks later, someone shouted “alcoholic” at me in the street one morning, as I was on my way to the bakery, because of the way I walked. I returned to my GP, who sent me to another hospital for a second opinion. There, I was examined thoroughly. The results came on 24 July 2008.
Completely unsuspecting, I drove to the hospital. The weather was beautiful; there was not a cloud in the sky, literally or figuratively. Perhaps I had simply been working too hard and would be advised to take a few weeks’ holiday. Nothing to worry about, I thought as I took a seat in the waiting room. The neurologist called me in. In my mind, I was already sitting on a tropical island, drinking cocktails.
“I have bad news,” the doctor said in a funeral-like tone. “You have Parkinson’s.”
With those three words, a new and uncertain journey began. It was not a journey I had chosen, but it became mine.
That journey brought physical decline, chronic pain, depression, addiction, having to stop working, selling my business, loss of income, friendships and relationships, and more. Fortunately, it also brought me a new beginning in Spain, three published books, connections with fellow patients, and the ability to enjoy the small things in life.
On 3 October 2023, I was able to mark a second D-Day, this time with the “D” standing for DBS. That was the day I underwent DBS surgery, which has given me hope and perspective.
Eighteen years with Parkinson’s is no reason to celebrate. Still, tonight I will raise a glass of cava to all of you — and to my health.
Wytze Russchen
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