In a touching letter to fans, Carly Simon revealed she has been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.
“Many people wrote to me, politely inquiring about my relative silence, wondering how I was and what I had been doing,” the 83-year-old Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductee wrote. “The truth is that I have learned to live with Parkinson's disease.”
She added: “It took me some time to understand the diagnosis, to accept it and to decide how much I wanted to talk about it publicly. Parkinson's manifests itself differently for everyone and can be unpredictable. Some days I'm so tired I can't even start my day. Others, however, gives me a little more space to move, think, work and feel like myself.”
Simon also revealed that she recently underwent treatment for facial cancer, which removed the tumor. Although Simon acknowledged that these events pushed her to retreat from public life (“If a person can hibernate both winter and summer, then I have become a bear for all seasons”), it also resulted in her next album, Comes in Wavesannounced last month. “There were melodies, verses and ideas written and put aside awaiting an indefinite future, when I would have the time and focus to complete them,” he said. “Apparently, that future is now.”
Comes in Wavesout August 14, marks Simon's return with a new album after nearly 20 years, following Never Been Gone of 2009. The new album was recorded in his home on Martha's Vineyard and produced by his collaborator Paul Samwell-Smith. His children, Ben and Sally Taylor, are featured on the album, while Sally designed the cover. The lead single, Howlis already available.
In 2022, Simon was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, 26 years after qualifying. “My first thought was, 'I can't believe it. It must be the House of Pancakes I just walked into,'” she told Rolling Stone at the time. «Really, I was amazed. I thought they were wrong.”
This is his statement:
«Many people wrote to me, kindly asking why I remained silent, how I was doing and what I had done. The truth is that I have learned to live with Parkinson's disease. It took me some time to understand the diagnosis, to accept it, and to decide how much I wanted to talk about it publicly. Parkinson's manifests itself differently in everyone and can be unpredictable. Some days I'm so tired I can't even start my day. For others, it gives me a little more space to move, think, work and feel like myself.
The problems started with arthritis in both knees and one hip. In the end they replaced all three joints, out with the old ones and in with delicate bouquets of metal and plastic. After three replacement surgeries, I thought my difficulty walking was simply an unfortunate and somewhat ironic consequence of the healing process. But my mobility kept getting worse. I had trouble getting up from low chairs and deep couches without someone offering me an arm. Upholstered furniture became my enemy. Once I sat down, I felt as if I had been swallowed up by the chair and could remain there forever, like a guest who had stayed too long.
Over time, there came periods when I couldn't walk without help. My family and I knew there was something more serious. After a thorough evaluation at the Mayo Clinic, I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. I have started therapy, which includes taking medications to relieve stiffness and other symptoms. The disease does not follow a precise or predictable schedule. He doesn't consult my calendar before deciding what kind of day awaits me.
Parkinson's disease is usually associated with problems with movement, tremors and balance, but it can affect more than just the body. It can cause anxiety, depression, fatigue and apathy. Apathy is particularly strange. You may find yourself lying like a starfish drying in the sun, with your arms stretched out in all directions, with nothing inside urging you to get up, read, watch a movie, write, sing, call someone, or do just about anything else.
It was one of the hardest things to explain. It's not simply about sadness or laziness. It's as if the part of the brain that sends invitations to participate in life has temporarily lost the guest list.
Around the same time, I was also treated for facial cancer. The tumor was removed, but the surgery affected my appearance and made me more insecure about being seen in public. I've always been more critical of my appearance than anyone can imagine (just think of the irony of having written “You'r So Vain”), and this has provided my inner critic with quite a bit of new material.
Between my mobility issues, the Parkinson's diagnosis, the surgery, and the emotional repercussions of it all, withdrawing from public life was the most sensible response. If a person is allowed to hibernate in both winter and summer, then I have become an all-season bear.
But I haven't stopped living and I haven't stopped working.
In the midst of all this, I started recording a new album, Comes in Waves. It still seems mysterious to me. Music has always known when to arrive. It has saved me countless times. It's like a cat or dog that silently appears next to you when it senses that you're not quite yourself.
The album includes songs and snippets of songs that I've been waiting for, some for years. There were melodies, lines and ideas jotted down and set aside awaiting an unspecified future, when I would have the time and focus to complete them.
As it turns out, that future is now.
Working on music gave shape to days that didn't always have one. It offered me a place to go without having to leave the room. It reminded me that illness can change your life without becoming your entire existence.
I don't consider Parkinson's to be a gift or a blessing. It is neither one nor the other. It's difficult, frustrating, and sometimes scary. I'm still learning to live with it and accept it without feeling like I've given up something essential.
I continue to write, sing, imagine, laugh, worry, remember, and occasionally get trapped in an overstuffed chair.
I am deeply grateful to my children, my family, my friends, those who took care of me and the medical staff who helped me on this journey. Their love and patience supported me in the days when my strength was not enough.
Today I move slower, I rely on others more than before and I have learned to accept that every day will be a little different. But I'm still here.”
From Rolling Stone US.
