On Sunday evening, I tripped in our TV room and hit my head of the door jam.
It was dark in the room and I have two bad knees that affect my balance in terrible ways.
I put a gash just above my forehead that bled like crazy. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, so Bern doctored it. Still the blood ruined my favorite shirt....
She changes the bandages twice a day because it is high enough that I couldn't do it right.
I told her, 'getting old is no cup of tea' and complained about my balance and my arrogance about not using my cane.
She blamed to glasses of wine I'd had that night.
That certainly contributed.
I see my doctor for a wellness visit (whatever that means!) on Thursday and I'll show it to her.
Today it hardly hurts at all but isn't healed. I have tomorrow and Sunday off at Trinity, Milton, so I should be fine soon.
To rephrase my title to this blog: (don't read if you are adverse to bad language)--'getting old is a damn bitch!'
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