44

Happy bday, me. I did manage to blow out all the candles eventually. The Manhattan probably did not help that effort.



That was weeks ago, when I was still on the Cape -- Mom wasn't about to let me leave without acknowledging the upcoming event somehow. Back then I was just about stress-free and sleeping like a baby every night.

Can I blame the Thyrogen shots for this recent insane inability to go to bed? The Thyrogen shots combined with the stress of the upcoming scan? The shots, the scan, the lumpiness in my throat? It's scant comfort that I went through exactly the same thing last August, and everything was fine.

I expect to hit the wall eventually. For now I amuse myself by noticing that my scar is nearly invisible in these pics, and those blond highlights? Completely natural. So, 44. The discrepancy between my mental age and physical age is not large enough to mess with my head yet. The combination of good genes, young children, and an aversion to frumpy clothing allows me to pull off a 30-something vibe, but I'm not sure how much longer that will last.

I'm nowhere close to saying that getting old sucks, because I don't find the alternative at all attractive (now) -- but I will say I haven't figured out how to age gracefully. I'm clutching at every possible straw short of plastic surgery to prevent physical decay... so far, so good. Good enough for me, anyway.

If I can just get through this latest round of tests without making myself sick from lack of sleep, that would be great.