This is a re-post of a semi-autobiographical story about a man with essential tremor. This neurological condition affects hundreds of thousands of people worldwide, making it difficult to perform the simplest of tasks. I have the condition, and if I can laugh about it, why shouldn’t you? If you want to know more, just Google ‘essential tremor.’
Shaken, not stirred Stanley, a butcher's assistant Lived at home with his mum, and his gran A dog, fifteen cats and a budgie And a lodger from Uzbekistan. The dog was a mongrel, named Scruffy Stan fed him 'scrag end' from the store 'Cats got bits of fish from the chippy 'Bird, seed, from the pet shop next door. They all rubbed along pretty nicely And 'lodger 'elped out wi' his keep They'd sit round 'gas fire watching telly Until granny and mum fell asleep. From his gran, Stan had picked up a problem Shaking hands, like the leaves on a tree This made eating and drinking a problem And soup were a catastroph-ee. 'Butcher's patience had finally run out When young Stan cut his hand, with a yelp "That's umpteenth time, only this week lad I think you need medical 'elp." Before he could visit the doctor's His mum checked out how he were dressed "We don't want no tittlin' or tattlin' I've laid out on 'bed 'Sunday best." Stanley sat doodlin' in 'surg'ry A bit feeling down in the dumps Wi' 'coughers and 'sniffers and such like And a boy wi' a bad case of mumps. His first diagnosis was Parky's Which came as a bit of a shock But after some prodding and poking He was sent to a specialist doc. "You've something called ee-senshul tremor," Stan was told,with some justification "It's not a life threatening condition We'll put you on strong medication." The specialist prescribed him three tablets One yellow, one white and one red Two to be taken at mealtimes And one with his cocoa at bed. Medicated, he shook like a jelly More discussion, and consideration The hospital theatre were beckoning For a bit of a brain operation. At the hozzie they gave him a checkup His ticker was tocking so slow That knocking him out for the surg'ry Was a lux'ry he'd have to forego. Six hours with no anaesthetic! Two big 'oles in his 'ed, Stan were stressed Sticking 'lectrodes and probes in his noggin And a pacemaker thing in his chest. A fancy remote he were given Big improvements is what he were hoping 'Operation did help him a bit And with eating his food, he was coping. Soon, Stan was back at the butcher's Let loose with this 'uge boning knife A 'glass half full' kind of person Who looked on the bright side of life. So, pleased with the little improvements He gave 'budgie a peck on its beak Granny's bird had the avian flu though Stanley curled up his toes within 'week. His mum, mortified at his passing Had checked Stan's insurance again One payment short on the premium She'd have to make do wi' free pen. The family were very upset Played his favourite song at the wake The group were 'The Swinging Blue Jeans,' The record was 'Hip' Hippy Shake.' Shakin' Stanley it said on his 'eadstone Shook his last, no more 'Rattle and Roll' 'All shook up' on a permanent basis And may God rest his shiverin' soul. To his wonderment, Stan went to 'eaven Passed the Man in the Moon and the stars Gave Orion the 'unter his belt back And took a sharp right after Mars. When he reached 'pearly gates, Stan were baffled Saint Peter had asked for a word "I've got you a job in the bar, son God's Martinis are shaken, not stirred."