The above photo of me is one of those computer-generated things that projects what I'll look like in the distant future. Apparently, I will have thinner arms, but my feet will still be on the large side. I'm relieved that I won't have to wear a bra, though, and I imagine that cigar is filled with weed, because Sophie will have finally become seizure free when we get a hold of the CBD, and in lieu of killing myself out of frustration that I wasn't able to get it before I was an old woman, I'll just start smoking it myself. Let go, let God, as they say.
This is the title of an article I saw last night on Disability Scoop:
Caregivers Live Longer, Study Says
You know what that means don't you? We go insane, but we live forever.
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.
In all seriousness, evidently an early death isn't guaranteed if you're caring for a disabled child or elderly parent and are utterly stressed out. There are actual health benefits, according to the study done on more than 7,000 caregivers.
Pass me the weed.
You can read the whole shebang here, from the very eminent academic/scientific The American Journal of Epidemiology.
Long live the caregiver!