In February 1987, I was thriving. I was performing in local Seattle clubs to promote my new album and researching a historical fiction novel based on the life of Joan of Arc. I was in love. But then I got a headache that wouldn’t go away. Throbbing pain made me nauseous. Over the course of a week, my vision morphed from tones of sepia brown to black nothingness, and I became blind in one eye. There were blood tests, spinal taps, and visits with doctors tapping my joints with rubber mallets. How many fingers do you see? And then the final, fateful test with an ophthalmologist who didn’t mince words. See those white spots? I squinted with my good eye at the black and white Seurat image of my brain. You definitely have Multiple Sclerosis. I took a sobbing breath, already knowing my world would never be the same. The headache morphed and moved throughout my body, a wolf chewing my arm, a knife stabbing my back. But, eventually, I discovered a hidden secret. Extreme pain left me with the most significant, most liberating gift the universe could ever give –the realization that I had nothing left to lose. I…