Dear Ozzy,
It’s 1981 and I’m in the 8th grade. I spend a lot of time in my basement listening to your new record, Diary of a Madman. My friends and I love it; a couple of us have even been sounding out power chords on our guitars as we listen and play along. We have listened to Blizzard of Oz, your first record, for nearly a year, when playing basketball and talking about girls and Mustangs. Who doesn’t love to jam to “Crazy Train?” But what you might not know is that your music also speaks to our adolescent angst and gives us hope. Ours is an awkward phase of life. We are trying to moderate hormones and new kinds of urges, wanting to be kids and grown-ups simultaneously. We are trying to figure out who we are and who we want to be. You help us with all of that, and we dream of seeing you live when you come back to Atlanta.
Fast forward to 2020.
I’m now almost 52, and I learned yesterday that, like me, you have Parkinson’s disease. I’m sorry, Ozzy, to have to welcome you to the “family.” But I’m also glad you’re here if it has to be this way. After all, as you’ll see, it’s a stunningly generous and supportive family to join.
One thing you learn about Parkinson’s is that it’s different for everyone. Symptoms differ, as do the particular challenges that come with it. In fact, it’s sort of like people who dig rock and roll. Some gravitate toward you, others toward AC/DC, still others toward Led Zeppelin, and some of us like all three and more. But as different as Parkinson’s can be among those who have it, there’s a lot we have in common. I could never have imagined the immediate bond you can feel with another human for no other reason than you share the same sinister disease. You’ll see this if you haven’t already.
At any rate, I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I thought I’d reach out and offer a few things you might think on in these days; some gentle advice if you will. You helped me during my awkward years. Maybe I can help you.
Take a slow, deep breath. It’s going to be OK. Life will change, certain things will become more challenging, you will need to make managing your Parkinson’s a priority, but this disease is treatable for most people; its symptoms can be managed for a long time. It tends to progress slowly. Your life expectancy is essentially what it would be if you didn’t have Parkinson’s. Remind yourself of this and live your life accordingly.
Find your people. I mentioned the Parkinson’s family. It’s really important to meet, spend time with, lean on, and learn from others who live with the Parkinson’s beast. I cannot stress enough how much of a difference it makes to have your people who “get it” because they “have it.” I know you must have many questions. I think we all do when embarking on this new life road. Having friends with Parkinson’s whom I can reach out to, at any time, to ask questions, draw encouragement, and learn from has proven invaluable. You might need some folks to talk you off the ledge occasionally, too.
Keep moving. My neurologist said this to me as I left my first appointment with him, and it’s sound advice. We know that regular vigorous exercise not only helps those with Parkinson’s feel better, and move better, but it’s also been shown to help slow down disease progression. It doesn’t really matter what you do to keep moving, whether it’s running, swimming, biking, boxing, yoga, tai chi, dancing, or something else. Just find something you like, or keep doing what you already do and enjoy, and it’ll serve you well over the long haul.
Slow down but speed up. Speaking of long hauls, remember to strike a balance between slowing down to enjoy what’s most important to you, and speeding up so that you cease to delay experiences that you find meaningful. Parkinson’s helps you not take as much for granted because it takes so much from you. You learn to value what you have, to see it more clearly, and to relish in the awareness that nothing lasts forever, for anyone. All of us are on the clock, Ozzy, whether we have Parkinson’s or not. All we have is today, and we damn well should make the most of it. There’s freedom in living with this awareness.
I’m a teacher, and so I could go on and on, but here’s a couple more suggestions.
Use your Parkinson’s for good in the world. Having a chronic illness is hard, but you can find meaning in it and help others do the same if you use it as the basis for growth and enlightenment, generosity and compassion, kindness and even joy. I don’t know what any of that will look like for you, and perhaps you don’t yet know either, but you will figure it out if you keep it in mind and hold it to be a high value. You have a platform and voice that few people have, Ozzy. It’s exciting to imagine how you will use these for good, and not just with respect to Parkinson’s.
Keep dreaming big dreams. In your song, “Dreamer,” you say, “I’m just a dreamer, I dream my life away / I’m just a dreamer, who dreams of better days.” You have Parkinson’s, but you also have a life to live, people to love, songs to write and record, and shows to perform. And it might be hard to believe this, but you will have better days ahead. You’ll have worse days, too. That’s how it is with Parkinson’s. But still, dare to dream, Ozzy. It keeps us all alive.
I saw you and Sharon interviewed by Robin Roberts on Good Morning America. It’s clear how much you love one another. It’s also clear that your marriage is marked by mutual devotion. This, too, is a gift and will provide you with a measure of power and hope that you’ll need. I couldn’t help but notice how moved Sharon became when asked what she would want your fans to know. Talking about how much you love to perform, and how much you love your fans, she echoed your statement that your fans are the air that you breathe. You said, “I need them.”
We’re here for you, Ozzy, and those of us in the Parkinson’s community need you, too. Together, we dream of better days.
Your fan,
Allan
P.S. Here’s an idea. How about an Ozzfest for Parkinson’s? We could have the first one here in Austin, Texas, which, as you know, is a great music town. And we have bats!
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Allan Cole is a professor in The Steve Hicks School of Social Work at The University of Texas at Austin and, by courtesy, professor of psychiatry in the Dell Medical School. Diagnosed with Parkinson’s in 2016, at the age of 48, he serves on the Board of Directors at Power for Parkinson’s, a non-profit organization that provides free exercise, dance, and singing classes for people living with Parkinson’s disease in Central Texas, and globally via instructional videos. He also serves as a Community Advocate for ParkinsonsDisease.net, writing columns about living well with Parkinson’s. He is author or editor of 10 books on a range of topics related to bereavement, anxiety, and spirituality. Currently, he is writing a book on counseling people with Parkinson’s disease, which will be published by Oxford University Press.
Follow him on Twitter: @PDWise