I reached for my coffee cup, moved to the table behind my computer, set the cup down then lifted the carafe to pour.

I smiled in amazement as I filled the cup almost to the brim. I knew when I lifted that cup today my hand would be steady. I wouldn’t spill a drop.

Slightly more than two months have gone by since I arrived at the hospital with fear and trepidation for a surgery I hoped would change my life. No matter how small the difference, it had to be an improvement.

I went in with the understanding that I might see changes in the involuntary movement in my hands, but it was doubtful I would see much change in the constant movement in my head or the uncontrollable sensations that kept my legs bouncing or moving about in uncontrollable spasms.

I secretly hoped for all this to be miraculously changed as well.

The surgeon also warned me that I might see changes in my speech patterns. They may or may not return to normal in time.

I had seen changes in my speech patterns and thought processes more in the past two years than I had noticed for quite some time. It was a part of living with Parkinson’s disease.

The ultimate loss for me was the ability to write.

I would go out on assignment for The Times-Post or work on a story to be submitted elsewhere; I would attempt to write legible notes, but it was difficult. My high school and college days in shorthand paid off immensely because I could let my pen fly loosely over the paper for the strokes to make the symbols rather than hold the pen tightly and work laboriously over each letter.

When I got on the computer, it was even more difficult as my fingers bounced uncontrollably over the keyboard. It often took me a whole day or more to write what I once could produce in half an hour.

Two months after the surgery to implant a device for deep brain stimulation (DBS) therapy, my life has begun to evolve. I still have days when my speech is impaired, but it seems to be mostly later in the day or after I have been involved in prolonged conversation.

The neurosurgeon and the neurologist who is responsible for programming the device watch closely as I progress.

The day I met with the neurologist who would do the programming, I watched in awe as she adjusted the level of stimulation that would follow the lead wires from the device implanted in my chest to the front of my brain on the left side. It would control the right side of my body. As the level of stimulation went up, my tremors went down . . . down . . . until my right hand was perfectly still while stretched out in front of me.

I shed a few tears as I tried to remember how long it had been since I looked down at a steady hand. I realized I couldn’t recall such a time.

The focus that day was on my hand, but I had written a list of things that have changed dramatically over the past three or four years. I noticed differences in my ability to smell, taste (particularly in my ability to taste the difference between hot and cold — it was like there was a 10-second delay switch turned on, and that meant I frequently had blisters on my tongue from attempting to eat or drink something too hot), walk, talk and lay my head down to sleep at night.

I started to get a bit of sensation back in my tongue days before the programming. Afterward, it was phenomenal. I haven’t had blisters on my tongue for the past few weeks, and I can actually taste the difference between too hot (heat) and too hot (spicy). I can also eat a little spicier food than I had been able to; I guess that is because I don’t have blisters on my tongue.

The doctors had cautioned me not to get my hopes up about any change in my head and neck movement, but that also has changed. I still have slight movement in my head during the day and almost no movement at night when I lay my head down to sleep.

I check my DBS frequently just to assure myself it is still on and working. That means I carry an antenna and a monitor with me at all times. If I need to check it, I slide the antenna around my neck so I can lay it on my chest over the implanted device. In the other hand, I hold the monitor and click a couple of buttons to see how it is reading.

If I should happen to fall, I call a member of the Medtronic Company who is available to see if everything is still intact.

I also had to have cataract surgery two weeks ago. That meant I had to notify my “team” so they could be sure there was coordination with the anesthetist and ophthalmologist. I will have to do the same next week when they do surgery on my other eye.

I have actually had more difficulty with the eye surgery than I have with the brain surgery. Mostly, it is in being able to walk straight when my sight is so unbalanced. I have near-perfect sight in my right eye (as a result of the cataract surgery) but far- from-perfect in my left eye.

Who knows, maybe another brain surgery will be in order so my right and left sides will be balanced in terms of typing, writing, eating, drinking and whatever else might come of it.