Could I explain it to you? Or anyone? Hell, no! But dang, it was fun to listen to him!
I am truly blessed to have the caregivers that I do. Each of them (the MD/acupuncturist/neurologist, the OMD/herbalist) has at least thirty years of experience with M.S. patients. And they'll often say that "such and such happens with a lot of M.S. patients" or "such and such is common" or things like that—but when it comes to treatment, the treatment that I get is entirely, totally, customized for me and me only, for the condition I'm in on the day I'm being treated. I get nothing that's an "all my M.S. patients get this" treatment. "The cloud" of M.S. patients doesn't get treated. I get treated.
And the herbalist was telling his student, "This often happens with M.S" or "You have to check for this with M.S.," but when it came time to make the prescription, it was individually crafted for me. Not for the cloud.
And I got some encouragement, too. "Such and such happens once a week," I told him, "And I need it to happen more frequently. When is it going to improve?"
He said, "Well, it used to be once a week. Now it's once every five days. That is an improvement." But he did agree, he understood how that might not really be enough, and that he—we—were going to work towards making it better.
How many times do we M.S.ers hear about something, anything, getting "better"—even a little bit?
We do take what we can get in the M.S. biz. Every once and a while, we actually do get something. Even a little improvement is an improvement, whether you want to spin it with enthusiasm or not. There's no denying that "better" is "better," even if it isn't much.
And "better," even if it isn't much—I'll take.