My wife is a doer-cleans house, hosts parties, plans trips abroad, etc. We’ve spent much time enjoying Italy, Austria, Switzerland, Germany, Scotland, England, Canada, St. Martin, Greece, Croatia, Santorini, Mykonos, Capri. Most times, things have gone relatively smoothly. At other times, I suffered through most of the trips. I just ran out of energy after 10 or so days, and it took me a week to recover after returning home. On a trip to England in 2007, we spent the first week with our best friends from New Hampshire and her English aunt and uncle.
It turned out that the aunt’s niece was celebrating her 50th birthday with a ‘summer ball’ and we were invited. We were told that her husband had PD and was in such bad shape that he most likely would not attend. When we arrived at the party, Tom stood out- very dapperly dressed in a white dinner jacket, handsome, and appearing to be in good spirits. However, his PD overrode all his natural and moneyed appearance. We gravitated to each other and talked about solutions, including suicide. I had to be honest that I had considered it. Our conversation became even more depressing as we drank. It turns out that he was a candidate for DBS in England in 2001. About the time of surgery, he was involved in a car accident which left him a less desirable candidate. He had missed his window of opportunity. I spoke with his daughter and his wife who, in each conversation urged me to get DBS surgery. His wife, Deidre, said if it was only 50% successful, she’d recommend the surgery.
We came home from that trip determined to see if I was a candidate for DBS. When I told my neurologist, he was concerned. “You’re not that bad…why risk it all, even if the odds are in your favor?” After we spoke with the department chairman, who agreed that only the patient could determine when an alternative might be helpful, we decided to investigate successful neurosurgeon/neurological teams.
Our daughter determined along with a colleague who knew a lot about successful DBS surgeries, that Michael Okun and Kelley Foote at the University of Florida, Shands Hospital, were the perfect pair for us.
The Wonder BoysWhen we went for our first appointment, we couldn’t help but remark that Dr. Okun looked so young that we called him “Doogie Houser” after the old TV program about a very young, very brilliant character who became a doctor at a very early age. Dr. Okun changed medications, hoping that the change would be positive. When the changes didn’t help that much, he made an appointment for me to be tested-physically, mentally, psychologically, emotionally, to see if I was a viable candidate. I passed and the first surgery was scheduled four months later. They said I was being “fast tracked” for surgery. Four months later didn’t seem like a fast track for me.
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