When I arrived at the office of Dr. Monique Giroux I was at my wits end; hurting, not sleeping, tremoring like crazy and scared beyond belief. After hearing my saga she calmly suggested we first worry about "getting me off the cliff" and then talk treatment plans. After taking me off all of the meds possible and ensuring I was safely off the cliff, she ordered major blood work to determine if anything else was going on inside my exhausted and aching body and brain. She then suggested we take two simultaneous paths; one path for natural healing and the other path towards Deep Brain Stimulation surgery. 

The road to DBS is not quick as there is about six months worth of hoops to jump through in preparation. The MRIs, blood work, x-rays and doctor exams are fairly easy; the hard part is the four-hour evaluation by a neuropsychologist. In the meantime, I continued with the exercise, the gluten-free, the probiotics, the acupuncture, the chiropractic and the hypnotism. 

And I continued to get worse.

My 12-year-old son had to help me get dressed, I couldn't go to the gym because I hurt too much, I wasn't sleeping, I was ineffective at work and I was getting completely depressed. I had to have the surgery. 

I couldn't live like this anymore.

So there I lay, getting prepped for DBS. Four nurses were sticking needles in my arms and shaving the side of my head. The anesthesiologist had just told me - and had me sign off on - all of the possible horrific complications there could be, most of which I could die from. I asked my husband Alan, who was looking quite pale, "Are you scared?" He nodded as his eyes welled up with tears. It took everything in me to not shout 

The DBS team put me under anesthesia and when they brought me back up to consciousness, there was a nickel-sized hole in my head and a four-inch wire plunging into my brain. They woke me up to do the testing, but the brain has no feeling, so it didn't hurt at all. However, it was weird when they turned the electricity on to test my reactions. They checked different wire locations and amounts of power for about 30 minutes until the surgeon was pleased with the results. Then they put me back under, tunneled the wire down my skull and neck and implanted a battery in my chest. After a total of seven hours in the operating room, I awoke in the recovery area. Eventually, my husband and youngest son were able to come see me. We all cried.

The worst was over.

I spent just one night in the hospital and then was sent home the next morning. For two days I experienced a honeymoon period, meaning that although my DBS power wasn't turned on yet (and wouldn't be for three weeks), I was oddly symptom-free, a fabulous side-effect due to the swelling in my brain. After that second day my symptoms returned. The next day my husband removed the bandages from my head. After five days I was allowed to wash my hair. After two weeks I was back at work. But during those first three weeks post-surgery, I was back on all my Parkinson's meds, as I had to wait for the post-op swelling to subside in my brain before the doctors could turn on the neurostimulator. 

Three weeks after surgery Alan and I met with Sierra, my Neurostimulation Programmer (yes, there is such a job), to get my unit turned on. The night before I had to be off meds again and had yet another sleepless night. But when Sierra turned that thing on, my tremoring and cramping instantly and completely stopped. 

Alan and I both cried. Crying has become a part of our world, 

but this time it was tears of absolute joy.

Parkinson's is a progressive disease and although the benefits from DBS should last me at least ten years, I will continue to get worse. The surgery only helped the one side of my body that needed it, but eventually I will start to be symptomatic on the other side and will have to get this all done again. My battery should last around five years and then will need to be replaced. I am keeping my fingers crossed that during the next ten years a cure is found for this terrible condition. 

In the meantime, I'm back to being a mom, a wife, a business owner and a volunteer. I feel that the best way for me to deal with this condition is to speak up. Parkinson's will be a part of my life until there is a cure, but it doesn't define my life...I define my life! 

Jill Ater is founder and Chief Operations Officer of 10 til 2.