- Reba Smith-Weede has essential tremors, a neurological condition.
- Her hands shook so badly she couldn't even write her name.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Reba Smith-Weede. It has been edited for length and clarity.
I can't quite remember when my hands first started shaking. It must have been about 25 years ago. Back then, I thought I was shaking because I was hungry or nervous. But over a decade, the shakes got worse. By the time I was in my 60s, I couldn't hold my coffee or cut my food.
For a long time, I was scared to go to the doctor. I thought I had Parkinson's disease. But when I finally went, I was diagnosed with essential tremors, a neurological condition. Doctors put me on medication, but it didn't help.
Instead, my symptoms got worse. My hands shook so badly that I couldn't write my name with my dominant right hand. I learned to do it with my left, but it didn't look pretty. My head shook, and in public, I could feel people staring. Even my voice shook until I could no longer sing the gospel music I love.
A doctor said a 2-part surgery could stop my tremors
I had lived with tremors for a long time, but now it was impacting my life. I didn't go out with friends because of how people stared. I stopped making jewelry, another hobby of mine.
My doctor put me on one medication, then another, then more. They'd work for a while, and then the shakes would return. It was frustrating, especially since I don't like taking any pills.
Finally, my doctor recommended that I meet with a neurosurgeon, Dr. Patrick Karas, with the University of Texas Medical Branch. He mentioned deep brain stimulation, and I was immediately on board. I thought they'd put something on my head.
Karas explained it was much more complicated than that. I'd need two surgeries: one to implant an electrode in my brain and another to implant the transmitter in my chest. I was terrified, but I knew I couldn't continue living with the shakes.
I was awake during the surgery and clapped on the operating table
In 2022 I was wheeled into the operating room, knowing that Karas would be cutting into my head. Not only that — I had to be awake for the surgery so he could be sure the electrode was in the right spot.
In the operating room, doctors screwed a halo onto my head in four places as I sat in a surgical chair. I told them it hurt, and they gave me more medication.
Then I was moved to an operating table. I remember pressure, but no pain, as Karas drilled into my brain. Once he had the electrode placed, a nurse handed me a paper and pen and asked me to draw a spiral. I hadn't been able to do that for years — I couldn't even write my name at that point. I drew the spiral, and a wave of exuberance washed over me. I started clapping right there on the operating table.
Then, they put me fully under so they could finish the surgery.
The surgeries worked better than doctors thought they would
When I woke up, I was back to shaking. I needed to heal, then have a second surgery to implant a transmitter in my chest. At least this time, I got to sleep through the operation.
When doctors finally turned on my stimulator and adjusted the impulse, my shakes were gone. Doctors told me the surgery would work for my hands but not for my quivering voice or shaking head. I could have lived with that, but I got the best surprise: The surgery stopped all my shakes.
All I could think was, "Thank God for science." It's life-changing to be able to do everyday tasks like put on lipstick, feed myself, and sign a check.
Last fall, I got to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving for the first time in years. It had always been my job — one that I loved and I was heartbroken to give up. Now, I talk to my family in a clear voice and sing gospel. I make jewelry and wear it confidently in public. I wish I hadn't waited so long to get help, but I'm grateful each and every day for the miracle of deep brain stimulation.