I Checked Myself Into a Psychiatric Hospital. Parkinson’s Came With Me.

There is a strange thing that happens to a medical crisis when it crosses the neck.

If the body shakes, freezes, hurts or falls, people can see disease. If the mind becomes the place where the emergency is happening, the same people start looking for a character flaw. The hospital can remain a hospital, the medication can remain medication and the brain can remain an organ—yet somehow the patient has become a confession.