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Parkinson’S Plus: A Woman’S Struggle Battling Alien Movements
Parkinson’S Plus: A Woman’S Struggle Battling Alien Movements
Parkinson’S Plus: A Woman’S Struggle Battling Alien Movements
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Parkinson’S Plus: A Woman’S Struggle Battling Alien Movements

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When Evelyn Walsh was diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinsons Plus, her world came screeching to a halt.



She suddenly found everything she valued the most was being taken awayher freedom, her health, and her confidence. As things got worse, she thought the unthinkable: Might she even lose her ability to communicate?



Her left arm would constantly engage in alien movements; it had a mind of its own. She injured herself on multiple occasions, and would often think about strapping the arm down so she wouldnt have to deal with its unwelcome consequences.



In this honest account, she shares her feelings about being diagnosed as well as the problems she faced, how she overcame some of them, and how she learned to accept others. She also shares what shes learned about Corticobasal Degeneration, which was deemed the most likely cause of many of her issues.



Whether youre seeking to learn from someone whos also battling Parkinsons, want to support a loved one whos coping with the disease, or want to understand the complicated health issues associated with the condition, youll discover important truths in Parkinsons Plus.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 9, 2017
ISBN9781452530635
Parkinson’S Plus: A Woman’S Struggle Battling Alien Movements
Author

Evelyn Walsh

Evelyn Walsh was enjoying a simple life and good health on an Australian farm when she was diagnosed with Early Onset Parkinson’s Plus, which turned her life upside down.

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    Parkinson’S Plus - Evelyn Walsh

    HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

    WE ENTER THIS WORLD WITH very little, if we are fortunate we are born healthy with an average to above average IQ. The truly fortunate are those of us who have a family who want us and care for us. In general aside from survival needs human beings according to William Glasser need love, fun, freedom and to develop a healthy personal power to grow into successful happy people. I am so grateful that I had this start in life.

    I am your average person who was born in a small country town in the sixties. Life was pretty fantastic running around in the bush exploring the dry creek bed behind the sawmill where my dad worked. I was fascinated by the Australian wildlife that came to the creek to water. My encounters with kangaroos, goannas and insects thrilled me and left a lasting impression on me and my love for nature. At four years of age I had so much freedom due to mum having a toddler and a baby to care for. That all changed at five when I had to go to school. The hot classroom with hard seats, individual chalkboards to write on, a teacher who wore stockings through the heat and wanted to be there less than I did, all contributed to an unhappy first year at school. I guess you could say I had my freedom taken away!

    I had to grow up quickly when I started school because my mother did not drive, dad took the car to work, and I had two smaller siblings aged three and two. Mum walked me to school for the first two days and then I had to walk all by myself from the southern side of town to the middle of town to attend school. My father didn’t do tears, so it never entered my head to cry. I went to school and attempted to learn, but the truth was that I was bored stupid and got through the day dreaming of all of the interesting things I could do when I got out of school.

    There was no zany teacher or brightly coloured posters and there was definitely no exciting computers like today. However, these were good lessons for life and I learned to be self-controlled, to go to my happy place when I was unhappy. Most of all it developed my personal power, knowing I was able to help mum out by walking to school and being responsible. If I had to pick a word that describes me, I would say responsible was it. All my life I could be depended on to be responsible.

    Responsible people are the ones who get the jobs where other people are reliant on you to perform. I was responsible for my brother and sister. Because I was the eldest grandchild I was responsible for my cousins at family gatherings. I had to keep an eye on all the kids at family outings. Dad made me responsible for my mother in his absence as she did not cope with stressful situations.

    To give an example when I was ten years of age the telegram man knocked at the door and I arrived at the door to my mother crying hysterically, she shoved the unopened telegram in my hand and screamed at me to read it. I was trying to read it with her sobbing and crying out what does it say? I had to tell her that her sister’s husband had passed away and console her in her grief! As a child I believed that I had to help look after my mother. I had to make good choices early in life and I had to ensure the safety of my siblings at all times to ensure the happiness of my mother. My reward was that it made my dad happy. I adored my father, he was a hard but fair man and he was always doing something that I found exciting.

    I think because my mother had three children under four I was often sent with dad. I have a memory of a day with him in the log truck singing my little heart out as the hard passenger seat jolted my tiny body up and down as the truck lurched forward, fighting its way through the sand to get the logs to the sawmill. I got to go roo shooting with my father and I helped by being lookout to make sure none of the carcasses fell out of the vehicle on the way home. We did exciting things like making a pig pen and it was my job to feed the pig. One of the pigs became like my dog and went everywhere with me until he started to attack anyone who came in the yard. I don’t remember the incident but dad told me this story. I do know that I love pigs to this day. Unfortunately my really early memories are very few these days but I do know that I was always close to my father and I was always happy to be with him while he worked.

    My father instilled in me a good work ethic and no job was beneath me provided it was legal of course. Every Saturday from the time I was eight I helped dad clean the sawmill. We would go with him as a family and help. Mum spent most of her time making sure that my siblings did not get into mischief so the reality was that dad mostly did the work at that stage. I used to get the huge No. 6 shovel and push the sawdust around but where I shined was in the blower. Dad would take the bench saw out and I would get under the bench with a used fruit tin and dig out the sawdust where he could not reach. Most of my childhood memories are of dad working, we were never rich but we were never hungry, dad made sure of that.

    We were always given a small amount of pocket money for helping out but we never received it. The money was always banked for us. When my grandmother and aunty sent a birthday card the money was banked for us. Mum taught us how to save and she often explained the values of not wasting money. We use to say that my mother was tighter than a fishes bum however she made sure we always had the basic survival needs. These were lessons that I learned well!

    When I reached grade ten I started to look at what I wanted to do with my life and I told my parents that I wanted to be a nursing sister. My mother was horrified and informed me that would not be happening because only a certain type of woman would do that job! I think she was scared that I would see men’s willies. I was informed that I should be a Woollies checkout operator as that was a good job! I looked into being a police officer, however I was too short under the rules at the time and I was deflated.

    I had some health issues throughout high school as I was diagnosed as having childhood arthritis and my parents were informed that I would have some limitations later in life. It never entered my head that my health would stop me from doing anything however as I neared the end of my year ten, it was clear that if you didn’t look at my math mark I was above average intelligence in some areas. I was discussing senior with my mother like it was a given when the crap hit the fan for me, she informed me that as parents they could see no value in further education for me because my arthritis wasn’t going to get any better and that as a girl I would marry at twenty and it was best if I applied to Woollies and other shop assistant jobs. This was my first real experience of my parents not trusting me to succeed. My personal power went out the window, I wasn’t feeling very loved, I certainly wasn’t having any fun and I had lost my freedom of choice.

    Times were tough and there were very few jobs about in country towns and Woolies were not advertising for employees. Mum told me to just go and apply anyway. So I did and one week later I was employed by Woolworths which made my mother very proud. The truth was that they were very good employers and I soon got over my regrets and I did the best job I could every day. The only time I stopped and thought that I had sold myself short was when I served the English Head of Department from the High School and she asked surely you’re not keeping this as your full time position? I replied yes this is my full time job to which she replied what a waste.

    Life was pretty good again and at sixteen I decided that I would buy a block of land to build my own house on it. We had travelled around during my early school years and dad was making noises like he wanted to move again. I didn’t want to move so I completed an owner builder’s course with a view to achieving my goal of owning my own home. I asked my then boyfriend did he want to go halves with a view to selling the property if the relationship failed. He agreed and so I spent my nest egg that I had been banking every week since I opened my school Commonwealth Bank account. We designed a small home that met the budget I targeted. Every work day I would come home from work and make three concrete stumps for the foundations. We dug the holes by hand and I used a barter system where I would work for someone else so that they would do something for me. My boyfriend was of little help at this stage because he was recovering from a back injury sustained playing football. None of this would have been possible without my father who had the building knowledge and helped with every aspect of physical work.

    I was giving my father a hand to snig timber, I was paying him back some of my debt in barter, when I became ill and I had severe pain in my upper right quadrant. We were trying to shift a huge log that had fallen in soft dirt and half buried itself. For those of you who are not familiar with timber falling we were moving the fallen trees to a loading spot. My father noticed my paleness and I told him that there was nothing wrong, that it was my imagination, because I had seen a doctor that week about this recurring pain and he informed me that he could find nothing wrong.

    To cut a long story short I had been born absent my ascending colon and the ileocaecal junction was in the right upper quadrant. Information I was not aware of until I became sick. I was informed after surgery that my appendix sat virtually on my lungs. So two operations later I survived that ordeal which was compounded by the fact that my father refused to allow the second surgeon to put a second scar on me. I gave consent for the first operation because my parents could not be contacted and I had just turned seventeen and legally could. My doctors informed me that their tests showed that surgery was urgent. When the doctors decided after five hours of surgery that they could not save me they informed my parents they were sending me through to the city, but they did not expect me to live. My father apparently went ballistic and physically attacked the doctor. So when he made demands at the city hospital they conceded to his wishes. Consequently this was very hard on the surgeon, lucky he was a God. The surgery was also very hard on my body because ultimately I had a scar that looked like a shark had attacked me. I asked my father why he would not agree to a second scar and he replied because no one would marry you with two scars.

    At eighteen I was engaged to be married to my boyfriend, I was a good Salvation Army girl and there was no way that I would live with my boyfriend as had become the rage in my era! However when I was nineteen I told my father that I was not sure that I wanted to get married and he informed me that I had to marry my fiancé because no one else would want me with my scar! So like a good daughter I did what I was told.

    So there I was nineteen years of age happily married, I owned my home and I was planning in my mind, how I would buy another block of land next. This all went

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