By Jeff Woofter (with occasional fact-checks from my chauffeur, Mary Anne)
“Falling Behind, but Still in the Race”
In the race against Parkinson’s, I wouldn’t say I’m losing, but I’ve definitely fallen back a few places in the pack. Lately, I’ve noticed two very frustrating trends: my balance is off, and my mind doesn’t quite process things the way it used to. I’m still running, or walking moderately fast, I just trip a little more and take a few extra mental laps around the track before I cross the finish line.
Mentally, I could mostly hold my own regardless of the group I was with. Physically, I used to be a college football player at Penn State and I was somewhat agile, somewhat quick, and somewhat coordinated. When your identity is rooted in physical ability and mental acuity, it’s not easy watching your own body start to act like it didn’t get the memo. My center of gravity used to be something I took for granted. Now, it’s something I double-check before getting out of a chair.
The mental side is even trickier. Family and friends try to reassure me: “Jeff, you’re still sharp. You haven’t lost your intelligence.” And I appreciate the encouragement. But I can feel the difference. It’s not about knowing less, it’s about how long it takes to find the knowledge that used to come instantly. It’s like my brain still has the answers, but they’ve been tucked away in a back drawer and someone rearranged the filing cabinet.
I notice it in conversations when my timing is just a beat behind. I notice it when I’m searching for the right word and it’s right there, on the tip of my brain, but refuses to show up on time. And I especially notice it when people I’m speaking to patiently wait for me to finish my thought.
There’s a temptation to hide these struggles. To brush them off with humor (which we often do) or pretend they’re not happening. But the truth is, they are happening and naming them gives us power over them. It also gives others permission to talk about their own experiences.
Mary Anne and I didn’t start “Life with the Parkinheimers” to pretend this journey was easy. We started it because it’s hard, and because it’s still worth it. Even when the ground beneath us wobbles, and even when our minds don’t fire quite like they used to, we’re still in this race. We may have slowed, but we haven’t stopped.
So to anyone reading this who’s facing similar challenges, whether you were once an athlete, a scholar, or just someone who used to run up stairs without thinking, know this: your worth isn’t measured in speed, stability, or how fast you can recall a name. It’s measured in courage, perseverance, and the willingness to keep showing up every day with love, humor, and a fighting spirit.
I may not be winning this race, but I’m still running. And with Mary Anne by my side, donuts in hand and chauffeur jokes ready, I’ve already won more than I ever expected.
Until next time,
Jeff & Mary Anne Woofter
Life with the Parkinheimers
