PD generated gaffes aside, I experienced one of my most embarrassing moments in Grade 9 English. Our assignment was to write a short story around the theme of a surprising experience. I’m not sure that it wasn’t pure malice that led the teacher to pick mine to be read out loud by another student – my surprise situation was so lame. Especially so as it followed a brilliant story by another girl in which the listener gradually discovers that the adventuresome protagonist is a young child climbing up the slide for her first time and looking down to where she would so very soon be transported.
The thrill of Heights.
One of my pre-Parkinson’s physical triumphs was standing tip-toe on the very top of a 10 foot ladder in the near dark reaching to the very high gallery ceiling to change a light bulb. And not falling.
Another was cycling very fast down the hill of Avenue du Parc in Montréal. The key to the joy was crossing with the pedestrian light across from the Sir George Étienne Cartier angel statue in Parc Mont Royal (scene of summer Sunday Tam Tam beats).
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| The cross walk |
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| Tam Tams |
3 lanes of North bound traffic clogged the uphill side of the avenue as I had all 3 South bound lanes to myself. Provided I maintained speeds of 50km/h or more I could slice down the middle of those 3 lanes and veer off onto a side street and plunge, bike courier like, into downtown traffic so high on adrenaline no obstacle (car, pedestrian, curb) was insurmountable. I never hit anyone or anything and always remained polite (unlike certain bike couriers).
The thrill of Heights.
My days of taking those kinds of risks were most effectively ended by PD. But I miss the thrill.
So, to celebrate Abdoukhadre’s and my mutual birthday on August 17th, we went up a mountain.
As wild mountain bikers careened down narrow rock and root strewn trails and flipped off; freeride mountain bike tricking in Crankworx @ Whistler, we rode the gondola up.
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| Crankworx |
At 436 metres above the valley floor, looking down from the Peak2Peak Gondola, the thrill was tame but still beating.
On the train back to Vancouver, hanging out the open window of the train to photograph the rapids in the Cheakamus Canyon way below wasn’t dangerous enough (except for the risk of dropping my camera into the abyss) and yet the tweak of the thrill of heights was roused again.
It’s been said that before the disease, sufferers of PD weren’t risk takers.
And that PD meds can make them so.
I just know that certain fear is really joy. Bring it on.
