At 41, I figured my midlife crisis would involve questioning how much Botox was too much Botox, whether I needed a new skincare routine, or possibly buying something completely unnecessary. Instead, I found myself having brain surgery. Well, that escalated quickly.

I have two young children, a husband, young-onset Parkinson’s disease, and now a rechargeable battery in my chest. In October, I underwent deep brain stimulation (DBS) surgery, which means I now have electrodes in my brain and a battery I have to remember to charge. Slightly concerning, considering I’m entering perimenopause, can barely remember why I walked into a room, and can’t even keep my phone charged. Now I’m responsible for charging myself?

The Botox part is particularly ironic. Before Parkinson’s, I was a Regional Sales Director for a national medical spa company, managing hundreds of employees and overseeing Botox, fillers, and treatments designed to help people look younger. I spent my career fighting the signs of aging. Apparently, my brain didn’t get the memo and decided to develop what everyone thinks of as an old man’s disease. Spoiler alert: It’s not.

My symptoms began around 2019, but Parkinson’s wasn’t exactly at the top of anyone’s list. Two neurologists told me I was too young. The third noticed my slightly reduced facial expression and ordered a DaTscan, although he reassured me I had only a 2% chance of having Parkinson’s. Apparently, I’m an overachiever.

When he mentioned my lack of facial expression, I casually explained, “Well, I do Botox.” In my defense, it was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Unfortunately, the scan had other ideas. Turns out, it wasn’t just the Botox. In December 2023, at 38, I was diagnosed with young-onset Parkinson’s disease.

Eventually, I left a career I loved. My life revolved around medication schedules, unpredictable symptoms, and hours of involuntary movements caused by the very medication I needed to function. I went from managing hundreds of employees to being managed by a pill bottle. At some point, having someone drill holes in my skull (otherwise known as DBS) started sounding more appealing than continuing that routine. Meanwhile, raising two little kids with Parkinson’s has been an adventure of its own. My neurologist would probably love for me to avoid stress and get plenty of rest, but my children have respectfully declined both recommendations.

I’ve ugly cried, worried about the future, and missed moments with my children because my body wouldn’t cooperate. But Parkinson’s was already taking enough from me. I didn’t want to give it every good moment, too. So I chose to laugh whenever I could, even when life wasn’t particularly funny.

On October 29, my DBS device was activated. Without Parkinson’s medication, my motor examination score improved from the 30s to a 6. I cried when they told me. After years of watching my body slowly lose abilities I once took for granted, I suddenly felt like I was getting pieces of myself back. Now, if only they could program this thing to get rid of my wrinkles, we’d really be onto something.

It’s only been a few days, but I’m discovering things I can suddenly do with ease again: walking downstairs without holding on, braiding my hair, putting on makeup, and playing with my children without constantly thinking about how my body moves. I’ve even gone from five Parkinson’s medication pills a day to recently taking none, under my doctor’s guidance. It’s early, but the changes have been remarkable.

Naturally, I celebrated this major neurological milestone by going to Ulta. Apparently, after brain surgery, my first priority was buying more makeup. Some things never change.

DBS isn’t a cure, and I’m still figuring out what life with it will look like. But I’m excited about what’s ahead. I also share my life on Instagram at @unshaken.ish, where I mix motherhood, marriage, Parkinson’s, and humor. I never wanted my diagnosis to become my entire personality. Sometimes I share the hard stuff; other times, I make fun of my husband.

I don’t need to be inspirational every day. I can hate having Parkinson’s and still love my life. And whenever possible, I’m choosing laughter.

Now that I’m healing from brain surgery, I’m looking forward to getting back to some normal midlife activities. Starting with Botox, because while my neurologist has been busy fixing my brain, my crow’s feet have apparently been getting deeper by the day.

One medical crisis at a time, please.