A Chink in My Armor...Or So I Thought

I have a confession.

I don’t just value being healthy…

I wear it like a badge of honor.

Actually, let’s be honest—I wear it like a full-on sash. With sparkles.

Sixty-eight years old (and almost four months…because at this stage, every month counts 😄)…No medications. None. Zero. Zilch.

And if you’ve ever been to a doctor with me—especially a new doctor since our recent move—you’d think I was auditioning for a role.

Because I don’t just answer the question.

I wait for it.

You know the one…

“Can you list all the medications you’re currently taking?”

Oh, I live for that moment.

They barely get the words out—haven’t even reached for their notepad yet—and I practically leap out of my chair:

“NONE!”

Pause.

Blink.

They look at me.

“Really? You’re not taking any medications?”

And now we’ve entered my TEDx Talk Zone.

“Nope! None! I walk 4–5 miles a day. I strength train. I eat pretty healthy. I don’t smoke… anything 😄… and I read everything I can get my hands on about personal development. Because what’s the point of a healthy body if your mind’s collecting dust?”

At this point, I’m expecting applause. Maybe a standing ovation. Possibly a small trophy.

At the very least…admiration.

Fast forward two weeks.

You know…just enough time for lab results to come back.

And suddenly…we have a plot twist.

My cholesterol?

High.

And then there’s this new test—something about a genetic predisposition to protein buildup in the blood…which could lead to strokes…or something equally delightful.

And just to make it even more fun?

If I do have it…there’s nothing I can do about it.

No medication. No magic smoothie. No extra mile I can walk to "outrun" it.

So naturally, the question becomes:

Why…exactly…did I need to know this?

Because now, instead of my usual calm, composed, glowingly healthy self…

I’m somewhere between mild concern and DEFCON 1.

Which, apparently, for me looks like this:

Three hours deep into Google…

searching things like:

“How to lower cholesterol overnight without medication”

“Can kale reverse genetics?”

“Is becoming vegan by dinner too aggressive?”

At one point, I was this close to reorganizing our entire life around chia seeds and lentils.

Meanwhile, my husband is standing in the kitchen…watching this spiral unfold…

finally asking, “So…are we ever going to have dinner?”

And without even looking up from my research, I calmly reply:

“There are carrots and kale in the fridge.”

Silence.

A slow blink.

And then, under his breath, as he walks away:

“I’m going to suffer for this.”

And here’s the real kicker.

It wasn’t just the test result that rattled me.

It was what it meant.

Because in one phone call…

My perfect streak—

my “no medications, never had an issue, healthiest-68-and-four-months-old-you’ve-ever-met” identity…

Cracked.

Just a little.

A tiny…chink in the armor.

And that’s when it hit me.

Maybe…just maybe…

The armor was never the point.

Because here’s what I know—really know—beneath the humor, beneath the pride, beneath my enthusiastic “NONE!” at every doctor’s visit:

We all build armor.

It just looks different.

For some of us, it’s our health.

For others, it’s our career, our relationships, our roles…

the things we point to and say, “See? I’ve got this.”

It gives us a sense of control.

Certainty.

Proof that we’re doing life…right.

Until something shifts.

A diagnosis.

A transition.

A loss.

A quiet question we can’t quite ignore anymore:

“Now what?”

Here’s the lesson I didn’t expect to be reminded of…at a doctor’s office, of all places:

Strength isn’t found in having perfect armor.

It’s found in what you do when it cracks.

Because this stage of life—this third act—isn’t about proving we’re invincible.

It’s about being honest.

About who we are…

what matters now…

and how we want to live—with whatever we’re given.

Perfect labs or not.

So yes…I may have a slight crack in my “perfect health” record.

And no, I didn’t get my standing ovation.

(Still feels like a missed opportunity, if you ask me.)

But what I got instead?

A reminder.

That life isn’t asking me to be flawless.

It’s inviting me to be present.

Intentional.

Alive to what’s in front of me—right now.

Because the truth is…

The armor was never what made me strong.

It just made me feel safe.

And maybe this stage of life—this third act—isn’t about polishing the armor until it shines…

Maybe it’s about having the courage to live fully…even with a crack or two.

So let me ask you…

What armor have you been wearing?

And what might be possible…if you didn’t need it to be perfect anymore?

And as for me?

Well…

the next time a doctor asks me what medications I’m taking…

I may pause…take a breath…and instead of bursting out with my usual “NONE!”

I’ll smile and say—

“Well…let me tell you a little story…” (It's the TEDx in me)😄