On military entrance physical exams, there was long a classification of 4F. It meant an individual was unfit for military service due to physical, mental, moral, or character issues. For decades, physicians have adapted 4F to mean: A doctor's worst nightmare... Fat, Female, Flatulent and Forty.

It's when there's greatest potential for a double whammy. Not only are there physical anomalies that a younger self may have taken in stride, there's also this:

"Do Women Go Through a Midlife Crisis? Studies have shown that women are not immune to going through a midlife crisis, and yet the experience is markedly different for a woman than for a man. A midlife crisis for a woman may occur anytime in midlife, with age 40 being the start of this developmental period."

Keep on doing what you've been doing. Treat yourself to exceptions (especially on special occasions and everything in moderation). Roll with the punches. Remember that you've already demonstrated the courage to accept the things you cannot change and successfully keep on keeping on.

Either that; or, scratch the seven-year itch! Differential diagnosis can be tricksy.

Mr. S.E. Xobon.
 

My trick is is that I just don't go to the doctor.

 

SMRT
 

I’d been staying away from the doctor unless I needed something signed official like. I really liked the guy but... you know. I’d go to the chiropractor as he was a big help with my hands falling asleep(numb). Then my MD got Parkinson’s disease, brought in two MDs to help, then retired. The two MDs moved the office location, then closed, and sent me a letter saying my records were sent to PENN Medical in Valley Forge. WTF?
 
After about 5 years I felt I should have a doctor so made an appointment at PENN. They assigned me to a woman MD who used to be a nurse, I think is was Nurse Ratched. She gave me a complete physical.
She said she would leave the room while I got dressed, then come back in and enter the results in the computer.
Lady, you just fondled my balls and stuck your finger up my ass, do you really think I would mind you being here while I dressed?
Finally she said, “Well, you have it”, like I’m supposed to know. What? Diabetes. Oh.
3 weeks later I get a letter Doctor Ratched left PENN, and I was assigned to another MD.
But I digress...
 
The new doctor was cool, down to earth, and I took this seriously. I attended the classes on checking blood sugar, exercise, diet, etc. Pricked my finger every morning, took metformin, back to the doctor for blood tests every 6 months, a real good DoBee.
But after a few years I got damn sick of pricking my finger and it usually didn’t change much except when I’d been bad the day before, so I started just testing on those days to see how bad I’d been. After about 10 years I had to add insulin daily to the metformin. I asked the doctor if that was my fault but he said it was a progression, change happens.
 
OK, I maintained my cavalier ways of not testing daily, and along the way added 2 pacemaker/defibrillators, 3 knee replacements, 2 cataracts, and a wonky toe bone surgery.
So after another dozen years in addition the metformin/insulin routine they added Trulicity. Self administered shot once a week at just under $250 a shot. Mostly because each shot come in a very complicated device that’s disposable... well that and the greedy motherfuckers have a patent so no generic. Push the button and it extends the needle, pushes out the shit, retracts the needle, and trash it.
 
The point of this long tale, is don’t get too excited or depressed. Shit happens and quite often you can’t to much about it. I’ve been dealing with diabetes for almost 30 years. Haven’t changed my lifestyle much, still drink beer, Everclear, and a new bad habit Skrewball, peanut flavored whiskey. Try to be aware of what I eat but where and when I get hungry has a very large effect, and I don’t eat no stinkin’ kale.
For 9 months of the year I’m the same age as Keith Richards.