We all have our favorite Dr. Seuss books. Mine include classics such as Horton Hears a Who, The Cat in the Hat, and Green Eggs and Ham, which were all published in the 1950s and 1960s. However, in 1990, a year before Theodor Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss) died, he published one more title: Oh, the Places You'll Go! The book has since become one of Geisel's most popular. For me, it took on new meaning after I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease in 2011.
The star of the story, a little man dressed in a one-piece yellow jumpsuit and holding a toboggan, starts out with great enthusiasm-as we all do, right? He tries to choose the right path and to make all the right decisions. The results are mixed. He experiences victories and setbacks, exhilarating highs and depressing slumps, ultimate fame and extreme loneliness. Eventually, he faces up to his problems and keeps moving forward despite the obstacles and finds success.
One of the most ominous places the yellow man visits is not, as you might suspect, where the weather is foul or where enemies prowl. Instead, it's something called "The Waiting Place." No one is moving; no one is working; no one is doing anything but waiting.
Why are they waiting? They're waiting for trains, planes, buses, mail, phone calls, a change in the weather, their hair to grow, or water to boil. These are all tangible things, but Dr. Seuss includes a few more intangibles, such as a yes or no answer, or a better break, or another chance. A few characters in the Waiting Place look angry. Others appear to be asleep. Most just seem dulled from the sheer boredom of waiting.
To me, these people either have given up or are simply tired of trying. Their circumstances have overwhelmed them, and so they've decided to stop and wait for things to change magically on their own.
The older and wiser Geisel, well into his eighties when he published this story, yells his advice to Mr. Yellow and, by extension, us readers on the very next page. "No!" he shouts. "That's not for you!" Find a way to escape all that waiting and staying, he urges.
After my diagnosis, this message took on a special urgency: My neurologist said sitting and waiting was the worst thing I could do. So instead of waiting for my circumstances to change, I embraced movement. I joined a boxing program for people with Parkinson's and now box three times a week. I also visit a rehabilitation center two days a week to learn Parkinson's-specific exercises that I can do at home. And I recently joined my local YMCA, where I have my own personal trainer.
Just like Mr. Yellow, I'm not giving in or giving up. There may even be dance classes in my future. The places I can go are limitless. Thanks, Dr. Seuss!
