Getting Old

You know you’re getting old when you wake up in the morning, only to realize you hurt yourself in your sleep. I’m heading towards 50 years old, but not quite that fast. I’m still closer to 40 than 50. But, sure as hell, I woke up today, stood up from the bed, and it felt like my foot got trapped in a vice or something. Walking was pain-free, but flexing my foot to put on my socks was uncomfortable. Then, I get to work, get out of the car and now my foot says “Nope!, We’re going to limp all the way to the office”.

On a higher note, I’ve lost 13 lbs since the end of May. I’m determined to kick the crap out of prediabetes. I’ll know how well I’ve done when I return to the doctor for a follow-up appointment in September. My severe aversion to doctors kept me from getting checkups for a few decades. This also means I’ve dealt with seborrheic dermatitis for a little longer than that. As it turns out, it was an easy fix. All I needed was medicated shampoo. Of course, this made me feel silly for not taking care of it a long time ago. I can’t remember the last time I looked in the mirror and didn’t see red flaky skin on my forehead. Or how long it’s been since I began avoiding darker-colored shirts when I could.