Amid fall colors, a thought about Parkinson's

“I’m so glad we live in a world where there are Octobers.”

Eleven-year-old Anne Shirley was commenting on the beauty of her surroundings in the heartwarming novel “Anne of Green Gables” by L.M. Montgomery. Then she announces that she will decorate her room with colorful maple boughs. “Don’t they give you a thrill – several thrills?” she asks.

People who love being outdoors and getting exercise know that early fall is summer’s last gasp. The hot breath of one season is replaced by cooler but wildly varying temperatures of the next. Strong winds swoop in from the north as nature shifts her exhales.

The days shorten, and leaves stop producing chlorophyll.

It’s time for them to let their inner pigments shine.

I’ve always thought “leaf peeping” was an odd phrase. It’s as if you’re sneaking quick glances at the fall colors the way a kid who’s about to shoplift a pack of gum watches for workers.

Rather than peep, I allow my eyes to take their time, drinking in the sight of those glorious displays of reds, oranges, and yellows among the lingering greens.

Combining that with a brisk walk in a forest or just a stroll through my neighborhood – that’s nirvana for me.

I took a walk earlier this week to assess fall’s progress. I’m blessed to live near parks full of mature trees, which each October stand proudly showing their new hues.

Change is a constant

Those of us with Parkinson’s disease experience our own change of seasons, but it’s not all reds and yellows.

Just as summer can quickly yield to autumn, receiving a Parkinson’s diagnosis is a final gasp of normal life.

And like the leaves and their chlorophyll, dopamine production ceases in the brain. Rather than spellbinding colors, the result is tremors, rigidity, and impaired coordination.

Things slow down. The future becomes gray clouds and with gusts of uncertainty.

Is there hope?

A progressive degenerative disease tends to rob people of hope. There will be much suffering ahead, especially in the later stages of Parkinson’s.

But must this change of seasons be all doom and gloom?

I might feel that way on some days. But on others, I try to answer with an emphatic “no” and instead seek something positive about Parkinson’s.

For one, I now feel greater empathy toward others with health challenges. I’m more patient when they need a listening ear.

There’s a positive side to almost everything. I cling to that thought because if I don’t, the world is as dark as an arctic winter.

Anne of Green Gables also looks at the brighter side: “Autumn leaves don’t fall, they fly. They take their time and wander on this their only chance to soar.”

I’d like to see life with Parkinson’s in this way. As the disease progresses, maybe I’m airborne, as a leaf going down, but that offers opportunities. I can choose to soar. To wander. To take my time.

I can advocate for people with Parkinson’s, or raise funds for research. I can serve family, friends and strangers, even if in more limited ways. I can work to build connections among those living with this disease. I can see new places, meet new people. I can savor moments with a grandchild, or a pet, or a longtime friend.

Like the leaves, I can let my inner pigments shine.