What Do Curling and Parkinson's Disease Have in Common?

It is such a strange contest. Men and women approach, point at a distant target, and then launch themselves onto a sheet of ice from a "hack" in order to throw 40 pound "stones", sometimes called the "hammer", at a "house" located some 120 feet away, using aggressive phrases such as, "take out", and "guard". The players involved do not necessarily look like typical athletes. It could not be concluded that the best players were the best conditioned. They wear little in the way of special garb or protective gear because injury is rare.

Such is the game of curling, a permanent Olympic sport since 1998. It is a game of oddities, especially when compared with the thrills, spills, speed and stamina of other Olympic competitions. In fact, some would argue it has no place on the medal podium reserved for those that evidence unquestionable athletic prowess. Despite any similarities, it is very different than shuffleboard. It has been compared to horseshoes and golf, and also nicknamed "chess on ice". Finesse, skill and strategy combine in competition to form this highly challenging game played in winter climates the world around. Although the Scottish inventors of the game are still tough competition, Canadians have become dominant adversaries in this poorly understood and often derided sport.

Strange as it may seem in a country, and city, hooked on hockey, curling was the game I most wanted to see at the Olympics currently being held in Vancouver. This morning I took the risk of heading to the curling venue ticketless, praying for a friendly and desperate scalper. My prayers were answered by the first gentleman I met as he held up a ticket for a well-placed seat and said, "$80 and it is yours". Given the modest $15 premium over face value, a small price to pay for having left my decision to the last minute, and the fact that the place was sold out, I thought it was a bargain. In fact, this was a bargain when compared with any of the other Olympic sports where tickets ranged from $150 up to many thousands of dollars. The value is especially evident when you realize that you could watch four curling matches concurrently, with a good view of each.

The game of curling is easily distinguishable from the other Olympic competitions in a number of ways. Some would even call it the ugly duckling of the Olympics. First, it is the slowest paced game, involving no one traveling at a speed faster than a brisk walk, albeit on ice. Movement on the ice surface is comprised of shuffles and a brief sliding on one foot, sometimes using a long handled brush for support or "sweeping" none of which are measured for technical merit nor artistry. It is played on the smallest surface of all other winter sports. As long as you have reasonable strength, a deft touch and excellent eyesight, and of course a lot of skill and many years practice, there is nothing to preclude you from being the best in the world. It is not unusual to find among each country’s 4 member teams the oldest Olympians competing (this year, the Canadian, Carolyn Darbyshire at the age of 46)

I love watching curling. Mostly because it represents an enjoyable chapter in my youth, it also reflects pride in my family members, given that my nephews, Brad and Ryan Kuhn, were Canadian Junior Champions, and then World Junior Champions, in 2000. But I love the game because it is an oddball in the world of sports. It reminds me of Parkinson's disease. Just as the sport is often misunderstood, so it is with PD. Just as the disease involves a small team committed to a common strategy, each member utilizing their best efforts with their unique skill sets, so too does Parkinson's. It is a slow game, but nonetheless may require you to dig down deep and maintain an attitude of courage over a series of battles where the opponent wants nothing more than to take you out of play. Any of us could relate to someone on a curling team. They are everyday folk, just like the people with Parkinson's. Perhaps we could learn something from these Olympians with their camaraderie, commitment, consistency and caring to do their very best.

Scrabbled Priorities

Who beats their mother without mercy? Well....

Shortly after my PD diagnosis, January 19, 2006, I was attending a New Diagnosis Day sponsored by the Parkinson's Society of British Columbia (a very helpful organization providing very useful support and information - next New Diagnosis Day is October 3, 2009). A speaker told 50 or so eager but frightened attendees that exercising one's mind was an important priority in combating the cognitive impairment potential of the disease. WHAT! You mean there is more than the potential crippling stiffness, uncontrolled shaking, loss of balance and depression? We have impairment of mental functioning to look forward to as well!?

Well you can imagine how I sat up when this lightning bolt struck. For someone who makes his living with his brain, the idea of physical disability is bearable. But early cognitive failure? That had me starting to count from 100 backwards immediately.

As a "present-minded" person my memory has never been superb, and my ability to take notes had gone straight downhill. So I knew that being able to remember things would become even more crucial, and difficult. I found myself checking for the onset of mental lapses, as I did for some of the other symptoms of this ever-advancing PD blight. Forgetting someones name sent me into a quiet panic as I imagined the worse. But this led me to hone right in on the advice I heard from that speaker.

Of course, I thought the worst, despite the reassuring statistics. Most of the 30% of PD patients who experience cognitive impairment develop PD more seriously and quickly in their old age rather than having been diagnosed with "young onset". Young onset is defined roughly as around 50 years of age at onset (I'm "only" 57 now so I must have been "young" at onset!). Old age can have a mind-dimming affect too if you are not careful. But regardless, I decided I wasn't waiting to find out if I was a statistical anomaly.

So I started doing crosswords and sudokus and other word games and mental gymnastics with the determination of a chain smoker trying to light up in a rain storm. Sometimes I was more tired after a day of my normal "head" work supplemented by my "mental exercises" than I was from my physical work out. Typically, I was overdoing this mental calisthenics routine.

But one benefit of this addiction was the discovery of Scrabble on Facebook (yes, my kids suggested I sign up so that I could keep in touch with their social networking circles). Scrabble was a game we played often when growing up, along with almost any card or board game imaginable, and I was an avid competitor. For me the game was the fun part, and winning, though enjoyable, was secondary. And who became my first online-Scrabble opponent: my Mom (yes, at 75 her grandkids got her hooked on Facebook as the easiest way to communicate with them).

Now there is a problem with this scenario. Do you try hard to win to assuage your nagging doubt about your own mental faculties being in tact? Or do you let your mother win out of respect for your elders and a desire to encourage your mother? Forgive me, but I chose the former. I could not throw a game. Yes, she won sometimes, but there was always the next game.

So let me encourage you to beat your mother...I mean...play games...I mean...challenge yourself with some mental push ups. Start an easy crossword, sudoku or other solve-it game or puzzle and work your way up to harder ones. You will find it gratifyingly easy to convince yourself how bright you are. And a Scrabble match, even in your pajamas, is as close as your nearest computer.