I learned something yesterday.  Pat took me to Tulsa to the dermatologist I’ve been going to for forty years.  I like him so much, I thought it would be worth the trip of an hour and a half to go see him.  Nope. I can’t do it anymore.  I have reached the point that a trip of that sort is now out of the question.  

It is now the next morning and I am still suffering the effects of riding in the car, unable to stretch, giving up my heating pad, etc. etc.  Getting older is just a series of giving stuff up. I’m just having a terrible time knowing when to quit. 

I went to a new GP last week and she asked me, “Why are you here?”  I said, “I don’t know how to quit.  It seems like failing.”  And of course, I don’t like to fail.  But one by one, the things I used to be able to do, I can’t do anymore.  Unless I want to spend the entire next day sitting in a tub of hot water to soak the aches and pains.  Here’s my plan:  Be thankful for what I have left, and quit trying to be Wonder Woman.  That gal split a long time ago.