The Days of Yore (Ordinary World)

Tom Honig

I wake up in the morning and remember how some self-help book once recommended that a person should notice which foot touches the floor first. Now, for some reason, this has turned into a daily practice, even though I defeat the intention of doing the exercise by placing both feet on the floor at the same time.

According to a decision from the night before, I either slip on my running clothes and sneakers or I head directly to the shower. Whichever I choose, I do a quick self-scan of my body: ankle, knee, hip, shoulder. All the things that hurt at one point or another. Sometimes I go for a run with a friend, and we spend the entire two or three miles reporting on our aches and pains. It’s always fun to share with another person why you’re not running faster or why you need to stop at a nearby café for a coffee and croissant.

I generally forget my aches and pains once the morning run or morning shower has concluded. Then I’m off into my day. I drive through heavy traffic to work. I arrive at my desk, greeted by a stack of notes and a blinking red message light on my phone. Then it’s off to my morning meeting and through it all it never occurs to me to think about my physical state, except for maybe once every four or five years if I throw my back out.

“I’m great,” is my usual answer if someone at lunch asks me how I’m doing. Why not? I had my morning run. Deadlines and meetings come and go in the afternoon. Then a drive home and usually my wife has dinner on and a glass of Pinot on the table. Who wouldn’t feel comfortable with a nice, organized day like that? After dinner we relax, watch a good show on television and later fall into the arms of Morpheus.

 One night, just as I was falling asleep, the phone rang. It was my college roommate. I hadn’t talked to him in months, and he asked if I could meet him for breakfast.

“Sure. As in tomorrow?”

 “Yeah, he said. “I wanted to tell you. I just got diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.” 

“Wow,” I said to my wife. “Freddie just told me he got diagnosed with Parkinson’s. “Isn’t that the one where you shake?”