Ponderings on Parkinson's: An Inside View of Parkinson's Disease (Paperback)

''Let us seek to fathom those things that are fathomable'', said Goethe, ''and reserve the unfathomable for reverence in quietude.'' The point is well illustrated by Sarah Nock in her recent book PONDERINGS ON PARKINSON'S. She describes with wit and verve the many consequences of her illness as it has affected her over the past 20 years............... These misfortunes can be ameliorated with medication - though less so, regrettably, as time passes. But a true unfathomability is revealed in the resilience of the human spirit that continues to assert its authority over the malfunctioning of the brain. How that can be so certainly merits reverence in quietude...'' --Dr James LeFanu, SUNDAY TELEGRAPH

''I've endured it (PD) with help from many sources, but few more useful than Sarah Nock's little book in which she modestly, and from personal experience (She's suffered from the condition for more than 20 years), provides a touching footnote to the battle.......this is a moving and useful guide.'' --Leo Cooper, DAILY MAIL

''It's a great book.....A great read, an interesting read, an inspiring read - and it's fun'' - Gordon Astley, BBC Southern Counties Radio ''Sarah Nock has succeeded in writing an entertaining, thought-provoking, and educational book about what it is like to have Parkinson's Disease. It has certainly provided me with a better insight into how this condition can affect people, and with this additional knowledge I hope to be better able to help, and understand, those of my patients who also have Parkinson's Disease - to whom, and those around them, I'll be recommending her book.'' - Dr Robert Hicks GP, Author and Broadcaster ''The title says it all - this is a patchwork of jottings on Parkinson's with titles like 'On not looking drunk at Victoria Station'....Although personal, Sarah's Ponderings will resonate with many who read this book...a box of chocolates rather than a Sunday lunch.'' -Jon Stamford, The Parkinson Magazine of the Parkinson's Disease Society. --... and more

A while back, I wrote a perfectly gratuitous letter to my specialist at the National Hospital for Neurology in London. Here is most of it:Whenever I read something about Parkinson's, or hear a radio programme or watch a television one, I never feel any the wiser. I mean, I might feel more clued up about what is being done for us and other lovely things, but if I didn't have it myself I would be no nearer knowing how it actually felt. And I find no one seems to have any idea-until I tell them. I think a metaphor is the answer and I have had one from nearly the beginning: the Giant Hand. It is like being squeezed by a Giant Hand. Always, when I "flip" and am consigned to my armchair in extreme discomfort, I have this mental picture of King Kong with that girl in his hand. Nothing shows of her but her extremities, which are helpless, useless; it is difficult to breathe, impossible to think, the only reality is the immediacy of the squeeze.I've asked other people with PD if this is how they feel and they agree. I wonder if this would be general? I'm sorry to trouble such a very busy man with this, but I think it would help us all if our properly dopamined peers had some idea. You liked me saying I turned into a pumpkin when my medication ran out in the early days (Oh, happy days when that was all. Not even a valid metaphor as that was the fate of Cinderella's carriage). I might just mention that when I flip, my head turns into a colander (full of little holes); all my stored information and plans and intentions trickle out and thus I am quite literally empty headed when I recover. I then have to pick up all the pieces and cram them back in. Unfortunately, it is not long before the process is repeated. (I'm sorry I shall be leaving you such a porous object.)(I must just explain that parenthesis about the porous object: I had promised my brain to research, to this hospital, on my death.)I was glad to get that off my chest; it was frustrating that no one seemed to have any idea of what Parkinson's felt like, not even the doctors in the large teaching hospital where I volunteered for a couple of brain scans and having electric shocks to my head-no, certainly not them. Then, when I had forgotten all about it - to my surprise, I had a lovely letter back. Professor Lees said he found my letter helpful, that he himself found it difficult to comprehend the nature of the condition as experienced by his patients; he needed to hear it from the horse's mouth.And, as the ancient Romans knew, metaphors are the simplest way to get your message across. Professor Lees encouraged me to write more, and then to get my patient's insights published. What more could one want! With glee (and some difficulty, mostly after midnight) I wrote the following. And the first problem I wanted to explore was one that had perturbed me for some time: How to reassure your family and friends - and yourself - that you are not losing your marbles. Tricky (I speak for myself) but not impossible.