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My brother, Dick, was 4 years older than I, and as a youngster I idolized him. He was 6'5", good looking, and a great athlete - characteristics I could only aspire to. He also was mean, cruel, a smart ass, beat his first wife, and finally disowned his 4 children. In other words, the definition of a sociopath; but still he was my brother. He was my only living blood relative besides my children and Dick's, except my mother who was in a nursing home with severe Alzheimer’s. We had become estranged over some stupid issue about 15 years before his death.

About 1997, I ran into Dick in a local Burger King and sat down with him and found out he was a severely depressed person. He had had a hip replaced, and the surgeon made his leg 3/4" shorter instead of longer which destroyed his other hip. He wouldn't have that replaced because he would have to go to a nursing home to recover and like me, he hated nursing homes. His second wife, 20 years younger than Dick, had left him and was living with the town chief of police just down the road from the log cabin he and his first wife had built. She wouldn't sign off on the house so he could sell the property and take his equity and move out of town. She turned out to be just like Dick. Dick and I seemed to run into each other in the Burger King for the next year. He felt he was lost and would never find an answer to his problems.

Early in 1998, I got a call from Dick's wife. She told me Dick had committed suicide (He didn't), and that he had attempted suicide twice before, but this time was successful. When asked why I hadn’t been informed, she replied that Dick didn’t want her to call me. I was getting very angry with this woman.

Then the guilt set in. I’m so sure that if informed of his suicide attempts, I could have changed his mind, even if I had to go live with him. When I told my wife Sheila about Dick’s hip dilemma, Sheila, who hated only one person in this world, Dick, said, “Of course, he could come and stay with us after hip surgery so he wouldn’t have to go to a nursing home,” a pure act of love, for m.. I never got around to telling Dick the good news.

Dick died under strange circumstances. He was reported missing by his wife who was not living with him .Even though state and local police were looking for Dick, it was his wife that found him. Because Dick died alone, a non-witnessed death, an autopsy was performed. It was determined that no foul play had occurred. Dick died of simple heart failure, and after I’d told everyone he had committed suicide. The story was that Dick had parked his truck in a rest area off of Route 2, a highly traveled road, and had gone down a steep bank to the Deerfield River. Allegedl, he had a heart attack trying to get up the steep bank to his truck. Dick's body was cremated the day after his funeral. I admit some concern about foul play in the circumstances of my brother's death. His wife refused to talk to me about anything. At his wake, all arranged by his wife and the police chief, the scene is hard for me to describe without getting teary. He treated his kids terribly, had beaten them and never gave them his love. Three of his children came to the wake. One hated his father so much he would not come. Another mentally ill son kept going back to the open coffin as if he didn’t believe his dad was gone. His beautiful daughter came, now free from the scourge of a bad drug habit. His fourth son, a strikingly handsome young man, exhibited behavior that reminded me of Dick when he was young. Dick had specifically excluded his children by name from his will. In spite of all the bad things Dick had done, I still believe that his life was worth saving. I often wonder if he could have been saved if he had received proper help. I still feel terrible about his death. You may wonder why I am so concerned about the death of my sociopath brother. I don't have an answer. Especially after he urinated on me when I was 8 years old.

I am a 67 year old male with advanced Parkinson’s disease. I have heart disease and had a heart attack in 2002. I have osteo-arthritis, had back surgery in 1999, have a dropped left foot and wear an articulated AFO on my left leg. I’ve had DBS surgery in 2003 and had a new stimulator installed this fall. I had my left knee replaced in August. I have Asbestosis from working with asbestos. I have detached retinas in both eyes and have had laser surgery on my eyes a total 12 times. I’m in constant pain. I have ongoing prescriptions for Oxycontin and Percocet. I have acid reflux disease and have to sleep in a chair. I have 11 prescription drugs which I take on a daily basis. Life is a constant challenge. People say I look great and have a positive attitude.

Have I ever contemplated suicide? Yes indeed - I have. I even know how I would do it. In the early morning hours when I’ve fallen again and am essentially alone, and I’ve started one of my leg cramps that are so painful that sometimes I pass out and I’m laying on the floor for 20 minutes waiting for the cramp to subside and I’m freezing, - yes, sometimes I wish I were dead. And then the cramp goes away and my beautiful wife comes to my aid, awakened by my crying, and the sun comes up and it’s a new day, a new start, a new adventure, and all is well. It may not be a great day, but it will be different.

I consider suicide to be the most selfish act one can commit. I know there are exceptions where someone is dying and is in severe pain and the family agrees that it is kind thing to do. I would never commit suicide because of the guilt load that I would leave my family. I adore my wife and couldn’t do this to her. I have a wonderful family who will let me go when my time comes. As my oldest son says in jest, “We’ll drive you to the bridge, Dad.”

When you have a progressive disease like PD, you spend a great deal of your time dealing with it. You fight and scratch to get the best possible treatment in order to keep the inevitable wheel chair and hospital bed beyond the horizon.

I have a disease that I would not wish on my worst enemy,

But I will prevail, I will prevail.

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*My Name is Robert G.(Bob) Newton, I live in Millers Falls, Mass, a village of the Town of Montague. Montague is located on the Connecticutt River, 10 miles below the New Hampshire border. I started out as a electrician apprentice in 1957 and retired on disability in 1990, the year I was diagnosed with PD, as the senior electrical engineer at Erving Paper Mills in Erving Mass. I also taught evening classes at the local community college. I was the electrical inspector in my town for many years. I've lived within 7 miles of where I was born all my life. We've lived in the same house since 1964. We have 3 children, Martha, a registered nurse, Rob, a superintendent in the electrical industry, and Tom, a engineer and general manager of a paper mill. I've been married to Sheila for 49 years.