In the wake of a life-changing diagnosis, a confounding invitation from Richard Chow’s doctor ended up providing a pathway forward.
I still held out hope that the tremors in my left hand were innocuous. I stood in the shower, gazing at my hand. I pressed it against the wall; the tremors stopped. Maybe I remained in control of my own destiny. Two hours later, a neurologist confirmed my Parkinson’s diagnosis, thrusting me through the looking glass into an uncertain world.
After reaching out to close family and friends, I called my cardiologist. For three years, he had listened as I insisted that something was wrong. He seemed relieved, as there was now clarity on the medical course of action.
As the call was ending, my cardiologist invited me to play nine holes of golf. I could not imagine anything more incongruous in that moment.
I often reflect back on that invitation – now, almost ten years ago.