WEAR MY SHOES
If only you would wear my shoes for a day
On feet that shuffle, slither, stick to the ground
On a good day they take me where I want to go
Put yourself in my shoes half way across a road
Those shoes won’t move
A lorry had to stop
Why stop just make it quick and final
He must have thought I was drunk as a skunk.

There are some kind folk who lend a hand
But I want to be normal
To wear shoes with stiletto heels, nice shoes
Without Velcro fastenings – to dance
Sometimes I get out of bed and forget those feet
Don’t want to take me where I want to go
I crawl on hands and knees – its faster and safer

Words that echo in my ears -they have no patience –
Speak up – don’t shout – what do you want now – later – the old folks home beckons
Struggle on as they watch me shuffle across a room
Would you like some help – would be music to my ears
They don’t understand – don’t want to know what a fight it is
To keep one step ahead of this nightmare called
Parkinson’s

Try to explain why carrying the smallest thing makes you wobbly
Why it takes several journeys to do what they can do in one
Why it is so hard to fold, to wash, to organise yourself
A kind word or gesture would go a long way.

To smell a rose on a summer’s day, fresh bread, oh so many things I miss.

Not to have to think what will be easy to cut, to swallow when out for a meal with friends
To dread walking across a room – will I make it round that chair, that table, what will those folk think – I’m not drunk – I’d like to be.

Can I hold on – wait until I get home before I go to the toilet – I can’t – what if I can’t pull my trousers up – perhaps there is a nice young man that could assist!! Chance would be a fine thing – I’ll wait until I get home.
Joke – make light of it – inside it hurts.

Those buttons on my new top are a challenge - my fingers are too slow and stiff – sh** sh*t s*d it – IT HELPS!!!!

My brain doesn’t work as fast as it used to and my voice even slower – I am not stupid – can’t you speak clearer than that – don’t’ know what you’re talking about – I am not stupid

Friends, family that care – treasure them – they keep you sane – boost your spirits when you’re down. I don’t want sympathy just unassuming help, an arm to hold, someone to take my coins out of my purse to pay for my messages, to quietly help me on with my jacket – to listen to me – a little goes a long way.

This nightmare that I live with is not fussy whom he visits – so be patient with me as
One day you too might wear my shoes

very,very poignant farhills, you have captured in verse pretty much what its like.i think there is almost no understanding and even less acceptance by the public.it is so hard to keep going out into the world and incredibly hard to keep one's confidence. you can take too much harshness then something breaks inside and bang giving up and becoming a recluse seems the only option but this is what we must never do