Every Little Thing….

The enormity of life can be overwhelming… its at times when it feels this way that we must focus on the Little Things….

It was the morning of the 5th of September 2019. A bright Autumnal day. I was making my way to an appointment with a specialist at the Maidstone Hospital. Over time, I had experienced a loss of dexterity in my right hand, which had also developed an annoying tremor. My handwriting had become untidy and cramped up as I wrote. I tended not to swing my right arm and dragged my feet when I walked. I had lost my sense of taste and smell. If I became stressed or cold, the tremors would increase. My work as a consultant was affected by a deterioration in my typing speed and accuracy. My confidence was at an all-time low. Clients had noticed a difference and, on two separate occasions, suggested that I see a doctor — a sentiment echoed by my family.

I was frightened. I had a recurring nightmare that I was in a body that didn’t work. I was awake and aware but out of control and unable to move in the dream.

I could feel myself slowing down in real-time and sensed that I was losing interest in life. I had stopped my studies at the OU because I couldn’t see how I’d write for three hours at the end of the module examination. Everything was hard work, and nothing lifted my mood. I was slipping into a depressed state as I struggled with the idea that my nightmare was becoming a reality.

I did my best to carry on as usual but didn’t do well.

I was afraid to see a specialist but had finally agreed to do so. By now, the idea of Parkinson’s was on the radar and getting this diagnosis confirmed made my nightmare a potential reality. I had so many questions: How would I support us? Should I sell the house? How would I get to my clients? What would become of us? Parkinson’s might not end my life, but how would it limit my ability to get on with it? How would those limitations affect our future? Many, many questions, very few answers.

As it turned out, two specialists and a brain scan confirmed the diagnosis. I was devastated.

I had never felt so defeated and hopeless. Sue was at a loss as to what to do to help me. At some point in this miserable downward spiral, I decided to marshal my thinking. I took my advice to others, and that of Bob Marley to me, who, in his inimitable style, encouraged me with his song Three Little Birds, to “not worry about a thing, [that] every little thing [was] going to be alright…”

I had a new reality: worrying about it wouldn’t change anything. This wasn’t about Parkinson’s. It was about becoming the man I had to be to deal with this new reality’s challenges.

While being out of control of my body, there was something I could do: I could control my thinking and, therefore, my doing. I might have Parkinson’s, but I also had the freedom to choose how I responded to it.

It took a while for me to process this new reality. The medication took effect, and I experienced a significant improvement in my movement and mood. That said, this was still a very challenging time. I cried a lot. Just when I thought things couldn’t worsen, the pandemic hit, and my consultancy practice dried up as the world around us shut down.

At this point, things looked pretty bleak. I had a choice. I could fold and accept the status quo, or I could make the rest of my life the best and most productive years ever.

I chose the latter. I would repurpose and rebuild my business to enable me to work from home. To make this possible, I would completely transform my offering and move online — an option that had not been available before the pandemic. I would lose weight and run a marathon, using the opportunity to raise money for others living with Parkinson’s, and I would do everything I possibly could to encourage and help people live their best lives.

I have told my clients on innumerable occasions that people like the idea of change, but they don’t like its reality, the effort required to make it happen. The same was true for me.

My objective for change was quite challenging. I knew that if I didn’t get going, I wouldn’t.

So, having decided, I enrolled on the NHS couch to 5K app and bought running shoes, shorts and shirts on the last day of trading before the lockdown to start working on the marathon.

My first objective was to run for 60 seconds. It nearly killed me! I continued to train five days out of 7.

I kissed Sue goodbye and “went to work” every day in a bedroom along the landing furnished with a desk, two bookshelves and a small filing cabinet. I read profusely, worked diligently, and began to see evidence of a completely new consultancy model taking shape. Sue and my children’s encouragement was a constant backdrop to my efforts.

I resisted the never-ending option to give up and give in with all of my heart as I sought to overcome my physical challenges and constant fear of failure.

I leaned heavily on my faith in God’s ability to help me and wrote my goals in my journal every day.

By the time the lockdown eased, I was running a focus group to test my new service, which was entirely online. I set and achieved a goal to land twenty new contracts and continued to develop the model. In addition, I employed an assistant to run the business administration. My son has joined me in the consultancy, adding to our offering and ensuring that I keep my focus. My diary is fully booked.

Since my diagnosis, I have broken most of the records that I’ve set in nearly twenty years of consultancy.

I rekindled my interest in gardening and model trains. I invest time with my family, cook dinner with Sue each evening and regularly walk the dog. I’m documenting our family tree.

I train with a PT coach and I run. Frequently.

I have invested maximum time in helping people live their best lives.

And finally, I completed the marathon.

The outworking of my diagnosis has made this one of the most profitable experiences of my life. I am thankful for it and wouldn’t have it any other way. It has inspired me, motivated me and driven me into my destiny.

It has reinforced six fundamental ideas that have become the foundation of my approach to adversity.

Get over it — be the overcomer, not the overcome

Get a cause — be the inspirer, not the inspired

Get active — be a mover, not a shaker

Get resilient — be a thriver, not a survivor

Get reasonable — aim for progression, not perfection

Get results — be a finisher, not a fader

Finally, and most importantly, “Don’t worry about a thing. Cos every little thing is going to be alright…”