Of all the gin joints…I still can’t believe I ran into Beth at the podiatrist. I’m wearing ratty old clothes since I didn’t know what I’d have to take off or put on. And now she knows my old-man secret. Yet still, I find myself telling her more about it, how I have to wear the splint at night when I sleep and take ibuprofen for weeks.

She doesn’t seem grossed out by it, though. Just nods along, telling me about her own foot-care regimen. ...