Bedridden, It’s pouring out of me, there is no other way to say it. Pain, cramping, uncontrolled intestinal rebellion. By day 3 of code brown, one of my dearest friends, Becca, has decided I needed medical attention. She will no longer be accepting my adamant refusal of hospital care.

I’m supposed to be tracking my food. For healthy reasons, not for starvation purposes - in case you were wondering. Somehow, between age 40 and now, my body decided to boycott all rational responses to calorie intake of any kind.

It’s all about finding the sweet spot. The balance.

If months of the year could have a personality disorder, October 2024 would have been the one.  Bipolar October I shall call it.  It started off glorious. And then all hell broke loose in our world.