Had an interesting chat with my MD/acupuncturist/spiritual counselor a couple of days ago. He told me of a friend of both of ours who has, well, something neurological maybe, but the bottom line is, nobody knows what's up and what's wrong. But they do know he's wheelchair bound, very wheelchair bound, even worse than I am (at least I can sorta transfer reasonably enough, much/some of the time); he spends most of his time meditating, I'm told. Well, when he's able to, at least.
But you know, spending the day meditating doesn't have side effects. Enlightenment, maybe, but that's as bad as it gets. Which, really, ain't that bad.
My doc and I spent a few moments looking over what our bodies have decided that we no longer, or regularly, do certain things. Putting me, and many of us MSers, in the "cath club" because our bladders work... or rather, don't. As one fellow member of the Cath Club put it, "Basically all I have in there is a bag."
If MS actually existed, much less was sentient, it seems as if though what it says to us is "This... (whatever it is)... you don't need to do any more." For things like walk or drive a car, it seems quite an off "take it off the table" thing that I no longer need to do... Emptying the bladder, as with all excretory ativities, is more than kinda biologically necessary. but with us in the Cath Club, we can still do it, it just takes... equipment, skill, good luck, and ... cooperation. Certainly, when I'm working with the bladder instead of at it, things go much more pleasantly and easily.
But it is an interesting path... when the highway is yanked out from under you and heads in a completely different, unforeseen and unknowable direction. One magician tells how Teller of Penn and Teller told him, "Tell the truth... and surprise me."
Which is, I guess, in its own way, very much a...
Definitely a gift of MS...