Call Me A Cab, But Don't Call Me Old -- Or Young
I am not an old woman. So then, why is it that everytime I go in for a medical appointment, I am surrounded by people of the previous three generations, all with false teeth, purple hair and three-pronged canes? Why am I the only one there with blonde hair and almost all my own teeth, walking unaided, and able to breathe without the help of a 10-litre oxygen tank attached to my hip? As some of my readers already know, I am not the healthiest person on the planet. I may be one of the cuter ones, maybe one of the funnier looking ones, and probably one of the most erudite people (umm, what does that mean again?), but I'm definitely not one of the healthiest. I have the following health issues: major generalized arthritis, migraines, irregular heartbeat, detached rectum retinas, severe myopia, Stickler Syndrome, scoliosis, mitral valve prolapse, currently undiagnosed digestive issues, currently undiagnosed issues with fatigue, hypoglycemia, cataracts, hearing loss, probable autoim...