Who Killed the Cat?

Who Killed the Cat?

In Ethiopia, when someone has tremors, an observer might draw one of two conclusions. The first is that the shaking is caused by withdrawal from alcohol (in some places called delirium tremens). The other assumption drawn from such a sight comes from an Ethiopian saying, "He who is shaking has killed a cat". Wolde was certain that neither was true of him, despite his tremors. But the idea of identifying the cause of his Parkinson's disease as being based in something as simple as having killed a cat brought a smile to his lips, and mine, as he spoke comfortably about his diagnosis a little over a year ago.

Wolde had been a mechanical engineer with the Ethiopian highways department before his retirement. Not wanting to be found idle, he volunteered as a logistics specialist with World Vision, assisting large numbers of needy people in his home country. Despite having left those responsibilities behind, he assured me that he kept active, both physically and mentally.  Regardless of his 76 years, he understood that this was important to maximize the quality of his life with Parkinson's.

We met in a modest second-floor restaurant in the southeast quarter of Addis Ababa where he and several of his long-term friends met every week. They had done so for years to enjoy each other’s company, reminisce, talk about current topics of concern, share their common passion for the work of young people and leaders in their respective circles. Wolde drank a macchiato, and I sipped on my Ethiopian coffee, served in a demitasse with several teaspoons full of sugar as is done everywhere throughout this country. I loved the coffee, but struggled each time to get the tiny, scalding hot, full-to-the-brim cup to my lips without leaving a dark stain down my shirt or scalding my tongue. Despite our age difference, life experiences and the fact that I was from a culture and a city at least half a world away, we spoke as friends who shared a not so secret disease.

Wolde had been diagnosed incorrectly several times before finally being told that he had Parkinson's disease. It had struck him hard, as it does most people, but he quickly regained his equilibrium and now remains positive despite the prognosis. Astonishingly, despite his large number of friends and contacts, Wolde was unaware of anyone else that had Parkinson's, and knew of no association or organization that works to support people with PD or improve their lot. He was certain that "nerve doctors" would know of some, however, he himself had been diagnosed by a general practitioner, who prescribed carbidopa levodopa in basically the same dosages as I take.

I asked him how he stayed positive? He was quick to tell me that his faith, being a longtime member of a local Protestant church in Addis Ababa, was a key for him. He said that he did not understand how people without a faith in something bigger than themselves, bigger than science and bigger than people generally could manage remaining positive in the face of serious disease. He did not consider his faith to be a crutch. Rather, his beliefs constituted the core of who he was, and they simply became stronger when confronted with the challenges of the disease. This was not all. He was obviously in tune with at least some of the aspects of self-care that might alleviate or slow down some of the symptoms he was experiencing. Since his diagnosis, he had begun taking certain vitamins and was doubly committed to remaining active, reading, doing puzzles, getting exercise, and generally using all of his faculties to their fullest potential.

After an hour of interesting exchanges, I thanked him for his time (trying my best in Amharic (the primary language in Ethiopia, although there are some 80 others), "Ama seh geh neh lu’ (thank you very much).  He answered, “Chigger yellem” (no problem).  I gave him my Positively Parkinson’s card and he sincerely wished me well with the blog and seemed keen to follow our continuing journey.  As we parted, we firmly shook hands knowing that, despite the short time together, we had become friends.  “No more killing cats now”, I said.