Six simple words

A guess, and a gift.

Here's my guess. About an analog to MS in the non-weirdo-neuro world. Even MDs think nerves are weird, the Chinese millennia ago referred to the brain as a "curious organ." It has always been, and probably always will be, essentially a mystery.

But anyway... The analog is: Migraines. My MD calls them "allopathic," which is the fancy way of saying "we have no idea why they happen." People who have them know what sets them off or helps them live through it, but they're still a mystery.

My poor wife was migrained horribly yesterday. The day before was a day of glory and triumph, she did Really Cool Thing with Really Cool People on the  Voice Actor Road, and it was as nice as nice gets. On Migraine Day, she was toast.

What often helps--matcha, chiropractic treatment, massage, a few other things that usually work--none of them did. She spent the day in bed with the blankets over her head. Thank goodness that the day ended, the migraine went away, and she was happy and sunny again. Today, she is totally happy, and has gone off to a Women's Success Circle which she finds very supportive and inevitably makes her feel better in as many ways as "better" can feel.

And here's my guess: Such is the say of relapsing-remitting MS. Which I don't have, I have the "it only gets worse, and keeps getting worse, it never gets any kind of better ever" kind of MS. Oh well... anyway, things are bad and there's nothing to do about them and everything you try fails and eventually it just goes away. If you're lucky.

But if I'm right, this may be a way for us MSers to explain our road to non-MSers quickly, and more importantly, gently, compassionately. Really, who wants to hear details about what actually has gone south in our daily lives? Even among ourselves, MSers who know all too well what it means to us, and people who care about our adventures on the MS Highway, I use cartoons to talk about Alan, B-san, Mr. Bladder, without going into details about exactly how my adventures in the Cath Club go.

I have not found a suitable cartoon to illustrate my other excretory adventures, and I'm pretty sure that you are too, so as Steven Colbert used to say, moving on...

But now, the gift.

Speaking now for MSers like me, or pretty much anyone else like me, who is in the gentle administrations of a loving caregiver, has very little to give to one's caregiver who needs care given to them. But the gift I have, the gift we all have, is... compassion.

People as august as the Dalai Lama have spoken extensively on compassion, but it is expressed simply. I do the best I can to not need my wife to shift into caregiver mode; I feed myself, I keep the cat fed and happy as best I can (which, as those of you who are Cat People know, is not as easy as it sounds, but we do our best, being only human), make as little noise as possible so if she's asleep at least she stays that way as long as she needs to (which was all day, yesterday), nothing is said about anything besides "How are you?" and "I love you."

Six small words may be the greatest gift we can give to anyone.

"How are you?" "I love you."

And this is definitely a gift MS has given to me... to find and live within a state where my own physical nonsense does not get in the way of compassion, of generosity, of love.

Simple words, and despite what seems to be afflicting people in the news nowadays, very simply done. Many people use the catch-phrase "let go and let God," and I don't have as sound-bite-y a saying, but...

Get out of the way and let God do the work you can't. God's better at it than you are, anyway, being God and all. And to start, how about those...

Six simple words.