This is a visual of the sad reality of turning 50. At that point, your body just starts decaying and breaking - I was shocked to see that there were four appointment cards from different doctors waiting to be written on the calendar when I flip it over on Monday. Yikes!! But not as shocked as I was when I found out that I had been walking around on a broken foot for a couple of months. I don't even have a good story about how I fractured my foot. There is no horrific snowboard story, of how I deified death and only walked away with a broken foot and not a broken neck. I didn't fall down the stairs and live to tell about it. No. I just went to Zumba. Not training for a marathon. Didn't fall in Zumba. Nothing cool like that. Just the fact that after I turned 50 (a couple of years ago) it has been a fast downhill slide, ending in three stress fractures from DANCING? Mike says that I was trying too hard to keep up with the young'ns! But the worst part? In my house, I don't get ANY sympathy for a foot cast. When I tried to complain, he politely told me that he wore one of those casts for two and half years after his 30 foot fall. When I persisted to get a little compassion, I was told that AFTER he wore the cast for two and half years, they cut his leg off - THREE TIMES!!! I gave up and limped out to the kitchen for my own coffee. This is going to be a lonnnng month!