I am finally done with that!

I worked in life insurance for the best part of 2 decades - and seriously - you learn some weird shit. For example, did you know that more deaths occur in January than any other month? Yes - its true. They say that people "hold on" to make it to the next year - for any significant event people miraculously can summon the will to live. Aren't we amazing?
And, did you know that the most dangerous age to be is 4? Yes. 4. More people are injured, maimed and die at the age of 4 than any other age. If you make it past 4, its all uphill from there. Aren't statistics amazing?
By the time I finish this blog I will be 41. June 11th is my birthday. I read through my post birthday blog last year and I talked about how a friend had recommended potions and lotions and all sorts of stuff to help me clutch my way into the culture of renewed youth and how I had rejected her advice. Today that same person sent me an email saying that I should enjoy my day for tomorrow I will be 41 and its a slippery slope to 50 and it aint pretty. Again, I say, bah humbug.
I look fine. I don't think I look 40 - or for that matter 41. And even if I do - who the fuck cares? With people like Susan Sarrandon setting the bar so very very high and making 56 the new 35 how the flaming hell am I ever going to compete anyway?
Fourty was a suck ass year for me and I am happy to see the back end of it. My good job went crapola and then I lost it. My life of contentment turned slightly malcontent. And I have a good feeling most of this had to do with my ever wavering health.
My body constantly betrays me. Just when I think we are all in this together - in an
"all for one and one for all" kind of way, it does something stupid for me or to me.
I started 40 out getting on board with the endocrinologist and admitting that my pancreas after 25 years of diabetes had bit the biscuit. I decided of my own free will to try insulin - and went straight to 4 shots a day. One of the two types caused me to suffer extreme insulin edema (super swelling) and I gained 56 pounds in 8 weeks. That, my friends, sucked ass. I still have only lost 12 of the 56. My body, completely composed of cream and jelly, is not kind to me in the weight loss department.
From there I moved to potential blindness as we discovered that both of my eyes had retinopathy - burst blood vessles causing spots in my vision. I took 6 months but they healed themselves. Good eyes. Very very good.
In the midst of this nightmare, I found the infamous and now cut-out spot. I am grateful always to the nag that made me get my mutated freckle checked. Its gone now, and they think they have gotten the whole thing - so woo hoo - skin cancer is done. Lets hope for good.
As for the underlying primary cancer that they continue to search for - I have tried to convince myself that there is no other cancer - there just isn't. But the doctor says if we can't find anything the first time through - we'll just keep looking. Thorough yes - but also invasive and troubling.
Then my feet started to pain with heel spurs - which I am going to continue to ignore. And to end the year with a bang, I broke my toe on Thursday. I even walked home with it broken black and purple. Why? Because I don't even care at this point. The body is just plastic coating at this point - the crispy candy coating. Who even cares what it looks like or how it hurts - mind over matter at this point really.
Fourty One is about Karma for me. I'm still not buying into Lisa's notions of lotions and potions. I'm still not going to read the sensible magazines for those in peri-menopause. I'm going to continue to think that everything is going to be fine. I have a great family and good friends and people who love me.
I mean, I made it past 4 - I can certainly make it past the 40s - how hard can it be?