Ping Pong Parkinsonia

I like to ping, I sometimes pong,

I always get the scoring wrong,

But there’s a gang where I belong—

A table-bashing happy throng.

I’m a ping-pong Parkinsonian.

My forehand’s fast but veers offtrack,

My reflexes don’t bounce right back,

But I don’t care.  I’m on attack—

It ain’t a war, just a friendly whack.

I’m a ping-pong Parkinsonian.

There’s no one chasing cups or glory,

Just bring your diagnosis story,

Help me out—ball’s on the floor—

Whose bloody serve was it before?

Hold on, i’ve got dystonia…

There’s only one way this can go:

If I flick it fast or spin it slow,

A smash of fun, a shot of grace,

A blank expression on your face—

It’s time for Levodopia.

We may be slow, and stiff, and shake,

And sometimes need a longer break,

But fun’s the thing and that’s what makes

us all come back - that and the cake

We’re ping-pong Parkinsonians.