My sister told me today her stomach hurt. I suggested eating peanut butter on marshmallows. The BRAT diet came to mind but she doesn’t like bananas or toast. I guess she could eat the RA and I could be a cheerleader. RA RA RA. Shish boom ba.
Um…
There’s not really a quick fix or even great suggestion. I try to recall what’s relieved similar symptoms in the past, but unless she’s “foggy,” my sister will remember way better than me. So I just make stuff up. Say it with confidence and truth it will be. Too bad she knows I’m a terrible liar.
I read a blog today called “My Wife Has Lupus” where the author wrote:
Sometimes she just wants to know that things will get better, or that the pain is temporary. I can certainly tell her that, even though I don’t know if it’s true. I don’t know that it’s not true, so I feel like I’m still being truthful.
How often should this we said about our lives in general, Louie or no? Work can be crazy, relationships confusing, conflicts bubbling and pain and sorrow showing up, unwelcomed.
At these moments when we can name the issue and then ask, “what will happen?” why not say, good will come? I don’t know the future any better than anyone else though I eat Chinese food as much as I can to practice my fortune telling skills with the cookies. I do know, though, that a statement that’s positive, optimistic and containing even an ounce of hope, even if it’s only a partial truth, can be just the relief needed or encouragement to carry on. My last paper for class or issue at work or my sister’s sleep schedule might not turn out as perfection, but at least we can move forward into these situations with a glimmer of the possibility. It’s the spoonful of sugar with all the other medicine that has to go down.
Ready? OK!
2-4-6-8
Tomorrow can turn out great!
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