The lift

For two years, from 2021 to 2023, I lived with what I thought was a shoulder injury. It started as a heaviness in my arm an odd, persistent weight that didn’t feel quite right. I told myself it was something physical: bursitis, a strain, maybe something that just needed time and treatment.

So I did what most people would do. I chased answers.

Physios, chiropractors, massage therapists if there was someone who might be able to fix it, I booked in. I kept searching, convinced that eventually someone would pinpoint the issue and make it go away.

But nothing worked.

Eventually, I was referred to a shoulder surgeon. I walked into that appointment expecting another opinion, maybe a new treatment plan. Instead, he looked at me and said something that completely shifted the course of my life:

“You shouldn’t be here. You should be seeing a top neurologist in Sydney.”

He even turned to my husband and said, “If that were my wife, I’d be getting her the very best neurological care. This could be Parkinson’s.”

Just like that, everything changed.

What followed was a blur. It was Christmas time I was defeated, appointments, uncertainty, and a growing sense that something much bigger was going on. When the diagnosis was first mentioned, it felt surreal, like it couldn’t possibly be real. I remember feeling completely overwhelmed, like the ground had disappeared beneath me.

After one of those early appointments, I got into a lift at the hospital. Standing next to me was a woman I didn’t know. And for some reason, I turned to her and said, “I’ve just been diagnosed with Parkinson’s.”

She looked at me with such kindness and said, “I’m so sorry.”

Then I asked her a question I didn’t even know I needed to ask: “Do you think I’m going to be okay?”

She held my gaze and said, without hesitation, “Yes. You will absolutely be okay.”

I never forgot her face.

Still searching for clarity, I continued to seek more opinions. Second, third hoping, maybe, for a different answer. Eventually, I was referred to a sub-specialist in young-onset Parkinson’s disease.

I walked into her office… and froze.

It was the woman from the lift.

The same stranger who had looked me in the eye and told me I would be okay.

After a thorough clinical assessment, she confirmed the diagnosis: early-onset Parkinson’s, at 42 years old.

It broke my heart.

But then she looked at me again—the same steady, reassuring way and said, “I still believe you will be okay.”

And somehow, that mattered just as much as the diagnosis itself.

Because this story isn’t just about Parkinson’s. It’s about the long road to being heard. It’s about trusting your instincts when something doesn’t feel right. And it’s about the unexpected moments of connection that can carry you through the hardest days.

I didn’t choose this path. But I’m learning that even here, there is strength, support, and hope.

And maybe that stranger Dr Natalie in the lift was right all along.

Day 5

Day 5 ✔️
I’ve been doing an hour of Pilates each day and honestly feel amazing. Exercise really does make such a difference in managing Parkinson’s symptoms.

Thank you, so much to everyone who has donated  your support means more than I can say. Let’s hope our small contribution helps move research forward.

Parkinson’s is the fastest growing neurological disease in the world, and it really makes you stop and wonder why?