as published in University of Nebraska Parkinson's Post
by T. Christopher Choate
It was a Wednesday. The day after Christmas, 2018. Breakfast in New York City. Her kind eyes and stone face were betrayed by her deep breaths and a single tear from her left eye. I’d known her for 25 years by then... lived with her and slept by her side more than half my life. I knew what was going on inside her chest. I could feel her struggle to stay strong, remain calm, steadfast and steady... while her heart broke. My words fell on the table next to a half-eaten bagel and the remaining strawberries, as our world changed forever. December 26, 2018 was the day I told my wife I’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. At the Grand Hyatt Hotel, on 42nd Street.
I’d held the secret for too long. It was no secret, she knew. If not what and why, she’d known something...for a while. I’d been running from the truth for 6 months. In the middle of that magical vacation in Manhattan, I stopped running. I was 45 years old, she was 47.
A few weeks later, diagnosis confirmed, we stood a couple of thousand miles away from the sunlit corner of that café in New York... in the bathroom of our home in Colorado. Face to face, hand in hand, falling words replaced by falling tears. I could never ask; she never made me. She recited our wedding vows — and took up the fight against an enemy neither one of us can defeat. And she made it clear that I’d damn well better do the same. In the years since, the bravest woman I’ve ever known has never given up.
I’m a narcotics detective; my wife is a college professor. We are the proud parents of a United States Army soldier and a high school student. Our lives had no place for Parkinson’s disease. It changed us — until we found room. The symptoms are mine; the disease is ours. I have no choice; they do. They choose me. This fight. All of it.
I have good days and days that set me back a bit. I’m grateful for them all and the perspective they bring. I’m coming to the end of my career in law enforcement, which is a harder task than I’d imagined. I’ve found the white noise in my life muted a little. Priorities and passions are a little louder now. I’m excited for the chance to support my wife in the prime of her career...and grow old with her. I have front row tickets for our kids’ arrival at adulthood. I’m planning on being the grandfather I never had, someday. I’m excited about who I am and the things my disease has taught me to appreciate.
I’m a little scared of where Parkinson’s disease and I are headed. I get frustrated...tired. I’m still not at peace with the disease my body has thrust upon my family. I feel some guilt. And I think that’s ok. In our house we often say, “Never out of the fight,” “Keep moving forward,” and most importantly, “I love you.”
My name is Christopher Choate. I live in Durango, Colorado. I’m Dr. Jill Choate’s husband, PFC Sam Choate’s father, and Claire Choate’s daddy. I’m a cop, I love to travel, I’m a pretty good cook, and a very passionate mediocre boxer. I’m a patient at the Nebraska Medicine Comprehensive Multidisciplinary Parkinson’s Clinic in Omaha, Nebraska. During my first appointment, Dr. Bertoni put his hand on my knee and said, “You have a choice as to how this goes. Your attitude will determine everything from here on out.” Parkinson’s disease is no fun. But hidden in its’ riddle are gifts. The white noise has faded. The good stuff is taking its place. I have a disease for which there is no cure. One that I’ll die with. But first...I’m going to live with it.
I am blessed to know him. I am blessed to know his family.