Nods and Becks and wreathed Smiles

Went to a speech language drop-in discussion group  today in which we discussed non-verbal communication  in the face of Parkinson's.

People with Parkinson's often have a blank sad expression which may not reflect at all the way we are feeling.   It is just our facial muscles are slack and we need to make a special effort to smile, nod, blink, avert our gaze from time to time and murmur appreciative clucking noises to show we are following a conversation, listening and taking things in.

Other problems include participating in larger group conversations when pwp may inadvertently miss their opportunity to enter a conversation because they miss their cue to enter by a second and can't get back in and give up.  No wonder they have a glum face and people get discouraged.

I can't say much of this applies to me as I have a very mild case of Parkinson's according to my neurologist and I  have worked hard the last few years to do all the right things to avoid pesky non-motor symptoms which interfere with one's  joie-de-vivre.  I joined a choir for people with neurological conditions  to keep my voice loud and clear .  I go to the gym and tai chi four times a week for exercise and coordination, participating in the social activities with the others to keep fully involved in an enriching life.  I do other exercises at home twice a day to strengthen my throat muscles  and swallowing mechanism.  Two lots of 30 exercises. Pwp often have motivation problems too, another non-motor symptom, so maintaining an exercise or other self-improvement programme is no mean feat in itself.l

The title of this post is a line from Milton's poem L'Allegro, which came to mind when thinking about things for this post.    I enjoyed this poem when studying Milton at uni and school many years ago, so many in fact that I am surprised it came to mind.  I read more  of the poem again this evening and found it very uplifting and affirms my decision to choose the brighter side of life, as opposed to succumbing to the morbid or  indulging in the melancholic, which is dealt with in Milton's other great complementary poem,   Il Penseroso.

Mirth with thee, I mean to live is the last line of L'Allegro and I fully concur.