From flesh to rigid stone

Parkinson's disease is a snake bite; venom is radiating from the initial wound and is inexplicably seeping into me. Its poison obliterates all it touches; exchanging flesh for rigid, cold stone. Silent pain sets my face in unalterable anguish as the snake wraps its body around mine. It bites again and again; those around me try, in vain, to drag the creature off me. I finally surrender to the stone and there I remain, locked in the perpetual embrace of Parkinson's.