Metaphors for PD

In my graduate studies I came across a book called Metaphors We Live By, by George Lakoff, which argued that we treated certain things certain ways because of the language that we use surrounding it. Fascinating stuff!

For example, time is a metaphor for money in our culture. We treat money just like we treat time, and we use the same language for both.

Some examples: we invest time, we lose time, we gain time, we spend time, we save time. You get the idea. So, to most of us, time is very important because money is very important. We have schedules and calendars and notifications and we go to things on time. Some of us are never late.

If you spend any time at all outside our borders, you know that time is not as important as money in other cultures. Late to a wedding or business meeting or basketball game? No problem. They probably have a different metaphor for time and the language surrounding it. I haven't done the research to know for sure, but it's a pretty good bet.

So, what does it mean for Parkinson's patients and care partners when the clear metaphor for Parkinson's is war. Everywhere you turn in the Parkinson's world, you see and hear the language of war.

Easy examples: I'm battling PD, I'm fighting it, I won't surrender to it, I have a new strategy, it will not defeat me, it's my enemy, every victory counts, I will not be hostage to it, I will never give up.

There's part of me that gets it, of course. War seems apt. We do appear to be on opposite sides and the stakes are very high. The language of war seems to fit. But at what cost? When time is money, our behaviors and attitudes and mentalities are beholden to it. We change who we are, to some degree, to adapt to that idea.

So, what are the resulting impacts on PD patients and care partners that come from thinking about a disease as a war? And, more so, it's a war that will never end and has a pre-determined outcome.

Do I put too much pressure on myself to win? Do I exhaust myself with the constant idea that I'm in a battle and, if I don't win, I will be destroyed. Does it produce more anxiety and depression to know that I'm in a fight for my life, and I don't have very many weapons at my disposal.

Am I fundamentally changing who I am because—based on the language I use—I'm in an arms race with a degenerative disease? What kind of psychological, emotional, or physical damage may be happening?

Perhaps none. Perhaps war is the best choice we have. But I've been imagining something different—some other way of talking about and thinking about and framing up my language in response to Parkinson's. I haven't landed on it yet, but maybe you can help me.

What if my primary metaphor for Parkinson's was teamwork? Yes, I know you’re supposed to have a team of people that helps you with PD. But what if the disease was also a player on your team? What if we collaborated with Parkinson's? Or participated together? Or we made a pact? Negotiated?

What if we took the idea even further and thought about dancing with PD. Not in the sense of having PD and still trying to dance in spite of it. I mean what if it was our dance partner? What if we choreographed together?

Instead of getting up every day and arming myself to go to battle with PD, what if I road-tripped with it or camped with it or remodeled with it or brunched with it or pickleballed with it or antique-shopped with it. What if we were partners or teammates or an ensemble cast instead of sworn enemies? What if we collaborated for the rest of my life?

Esoteric stuff at best. I HAVE NO IDEA how any of this translates into real life. I have way more ‘what-ifs’ than ‘I’m sures.’ But I'm intrigued. I’m mulling it because, at the moment, I'm really, really tired of fighting. The ‘doing battle’ thing is exhausting.

War is hell.

Am I giving up? No. But I have to consider what might happen to my mind and my body IF the metaphor I lived by, the language I used, the paradigm I looked through, was something other than a war with PD.

Something gentler and easier. Peaceful even.