To cry or not to cry - that is the medication

While Parkinson's disease can take away so many of our abilities, there are other skills it seems to enhance. The ability to cry is one of them. We can cry in any situation, any place, in front of anybody. We can cry while watching comedies or commercials, listening to a lecture on mathematics, or seeing a cute puppy. 

My natural skill in this area was advanced anyway. After my diagnosis, I could have been a superhero, if crying could be considered a super power. Unfortunately, crying has not yet been accepted by the Board of Animated Mutants (BAM), Panel Of Weird Writers (POWW), or even the Board of Associated Super Heroes (BASH). Yes, it remains, to this day, an unappreciated skill at which I am embarrassingly talented. 

Until recently when a change in medication took me from Kwazy Wabbit mode to embracing The Way of the Tortoise. 

There were a few odd things that came along with this medication change: dry mouth, throat, nose, and eyes... and nightmares. I didn't notice all the changes right away. I was moving so much slower and my nervous system had calmed down to where I wasn't reacting so strongly anymore. Little did I know, it had also taken away my one and only superpower. (Okay, that's an exaggeration. I still have my ability to turn into the Human Torch every time I get a hot flash. Yup. They're still hot enough to roast marshmallows.)

Last week, a dear friend of mine died. I was sad, but I didn't cry. I didn't cry when I was told or when I read the obituary. I didn't cry at the memorial, even when they played a song my friend had once sung to me. Usually I feel embarrassed when I cry. On the day of the service, I was horrified! What a terrible friend I must be to not even shed a tear! I pulled out a kleenex and dabbed at my eyes, pretending I was tearing up. There just weren't any tears. 

This upset me enough, I came home and emailed my neurologist, asking if this could possibly be happening because of my new medication (Amantadine). She wrote back, starting with "My, you ask the most interesting questions". After she researched a little, she found this indeed could be an effect of the meds. The timing is right.

I'm not going off the Amantadine, but I'll try to stick with a low dose. Without it, my dystonia can decide to run the show. The Amazing Pretzel Woman is not among the accepted Super Heroes, either. It's weird to know my ability to cry can be changed by a medication. Even if I can't change this, it's good to know there's a reason for this mystery.

And, at least I don't feel like a terrible friend anymore.