There I was, frozen in the neurologist's office. They were measuring my ability, or in this case, my inability to move while off medication. I was easy to measure because hey, I was not moving much. As I hobbled from one area of the office to another, the attending neurologist suddenly planted her toe in front of my foot as if to trip me. This is not as far-fetched a possibility as it sounds. One of the standard parts of a PD exam is to be tugged from behind as a test of balance. Why not a "trip" test, too?
In fact what she was doing was the opposite. Without a word, she shot a toe in front of me. Without a pause I understood. "Step over the toe" my Parkinson's sense told me. And with a step as light as a dancer (OK, maybe not that light, think of the hippo ballerinas in "Fantasia.") I gracefully performed my part of the dance, executing a "Grand jeté de PD" over the helpful obstacle.
This became almost a game in our family, with Pam and Wiley enthusiastically throwing toes for me whenever I ground to a halt. I never asked but now realize that this is for them a concrete and simple way for them to help in the daily struggle I wage with this disease. By lending their toe, they can lend a hand.