I can never say how much I esteem, care for and about, yes love, my MD/acupunctrist. But... treated [scream] IN MY HOUSE without requiring an hour's drive plus an hour and a half drive back, and getting into and out of the car, and fighting with the bathroom at the doctor's office--every door in the place is wide enough for my wheelchair, but the bathroom is extremely hard to deal with, even for the able-bodied caregiver that was at my house yesterday. Gotta work on how people help me on and off the table, but it was a wonderful experience.
One of the main reasons she came to my house was that she lives under 10 minutes away from me, but her office is on a second or third floor with [scream] ZERO accommodation for the "differently abled," e.g. wheelchair-bound, and being dead-lifted up the stairs ain't gonna happen. My wife was absolutely brilliant at finding a place to set up the table, although after the weather cools down comin' on Autumn, we can do treatments in the back yard, surrounded by birds and flowers.
Which is, to quote Martha Stewart, a Good Thing.
I told her about the heart-warming things I watch on Steven Universe, about how the characters care for and about each other, who ardently love each other... and she told me she felt that warmth in her heart just hearing me talk about it.
Us MSers, we don't really like "sensitivity," because it's pretty much unavoidable, in all its forms, but it is quite an amazing gift. In my last year as a teacher, many life-changing moments were catalyzed by sensitivity; my sensitivity to the student, and their sensitivity to their true, inner selves. But it really is a constant gift, a gift that will enrich my life as long as I'm in this human shell.
A perpetual, constantly renewing, gift. For something occasioned by a neurological disorder... definitely:
Not a bad gift.