Why this book exists
A focused place to understand what is happening
Clifford noticed it first while holding a cup of tea. He was sixty-four, a retired civil engineer, a man who had spent forty years building things that had to stay exactly where he put them, bridges and drainage systems that did not move because he had calculated, precisely, that they would not. And one ordinary morning he noticed that his right hand was trembling. Not much. A faint, rhythmic shiver, there when the hand was resting, gone when he reached for the cup. Months later, after examinations and scans and a period of dreadful waiting, he was told, in a quiet consulting room on a Tuesday afternoon, that he had Parkinson's disease. A progressive neurological condition. Incurable. Manageable, for a time, but progressive, which meant it would.
The writing is designed to reduce shame, bring the underlying pattern into view and give you practical ways to respond without pretending that every life follows the same formula.
