Dearest Body

I am writing to you to request that you please stop trying to compete with people more than twice my age.

It would be wonderful if you could get your act together enough for me to go back to walking unassisted, although I do have to say that my canes, crutches, and wheelchair are now fairly stylish thanks to special-ordered canes and decorative duct tape for the rest. But that's beside the point - walking is good. Really. At least some of the time. And not the shuffle around in a Tim Conway Old Man-esque manner. (OK, that reference just made me feel old!)

A medical professional's suggestion of a walker is a little over the top, isn't it? Chasing five or six or a dozen children while shuffling behind a walker would be a sight, I suppose, but not one I'd like to inflict on myself or others.  Especially since I'm imagining that happening with me in a housecoat for some odd reason. I'd much rather be a cane or crutch-waving curmudgeon.

Also, if you could fix my "early warning system," that would be wonderful. If not, I'm not sure what I'll do...Depends.

One last thing- now that we're off Remicade, can you be gentle with our friend the liver? I really don't want to add that overly scary "we need to test you to make sure this med isn't going to kill you" medication to my collection, nor do I want to put an insane amount of prednisone in my body on a daily basis. We don't want to inflict me on others if it comes to that.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Me