Time Expired

The "come hither" look is undermined by the pustular sore on the eye lid.
(This picture was really hard to take!)
(Hey! Look! My eyes are following you!)

I saw my doctor this morning. I told him that I felt like my warranty had expired. As with the corollary to Murphy's law, little things (and big) were malfunctioning: I had a stye that wasn't responding to hot compresses; I had a sinus infection; and I was trying to pull myself out of a depression.

He chuckled when I used that metaphor (he looks like Santa Claus -- white hair and a well-fed belly -- and his demeanor reinforces that impression) and told me about an al-Qaeda hostage who, at the ripe old age of 50, was seen by his captors as ancient, as if he were "time expired" and not worth investing much effort in keeping alive. (In that area of the world, average life expectancy is approximately 54 years.)

The doctor wrote me prescriptions for antibiotics and discussed causes and treatment for my depression. I mentioned that I had recently stopped taking meds for my ADHD (they caused intolerably dry mouth); he said that likely precipitated the depression and that it could take a few more weeks to sort itself out. In the meantime, I have a short-term med to keep things stable.

So I guess this means I've extended my shelf life. Yay for good drugs!