My boss asked me if I had any big plans for my birthday. I was caught off guard.

Let me assure you, there’s nothing about my appearance or demeanor that says “big plans.”

Most of my big planning involves asking myself how can I sleep to ensure that I wake up with enough working body parts to get out of bed in the morning and make it to work.

Big plans. The last big plan I had was in 2012.

I’m now closer to 40 than I am 30 and I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago for the first time in, let’s call it, a while.

I went because I’ve got a pain in my wrist that shoots all the way from my fingertips to my shoulder. While I was there they asked if there was anything else. I told them about half of my right leg being numb. I kept the fact that I couldn’t lift my left arm over my head anymore to myself. I’m saving that surprise for later.

Look, I haven’t made the best life choices when it comes to my overall health and well-being. I get that. And, according to my doctor, apparently you have multiple system failures in your mid-30s, 40s and 50s.

She didn’t mention anything after that, so I’m not sure if she was saying “If you make it any farther than that it’ll either be a miracle from God or medicine will have advanced far beyond my expectations,” or “It just get better after 55.”

Based on my experience over the last 37 years, I’m not betting on the “it just gets better” theory. While I’ve been known to whine, I’m not wine.

I don’t have a fancy doctor degree, but I did attend about a semester or two of law school and I ran a newspaper, both of which are achievements that clearly qualify me as an expert on a number of topics unrelated to the cost of ink and paper, and torts.

And it is my professional opinion that my recent uptick in ailments have nothing to do with God or science, but instead there’s a particular person who has been working on a voodoo doll for the past decade and they’ve finally got it to work.

Why would someone go through to trouble of trying to create a voodoo doll of me? That’s a great question.

It’s probably because I wrote a column once about Tim Tebow.

You see, I was unaware that the quarterback of the Florida Gators, who caused my beloved Crimson Tide so much trouble, would have such a following in the heart of Alabama.

And after we beat them in the 2009 SEC Championship and Tebow cried, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek column that compared the quote “There’s no crying in baseball” to how it applies in football.

I’ve been told tongue-in-cheek doesn’t come across well in print.

I’ve never taken that advice, even after hundreds of emails and letters from readers who have shared their extremely low opinions of me.

It was in one of those letters that I’m pretty sure someone had tried to curse me, like in the other-worldly sense. I was well-cursed in the vernacular sense.

It seems like one of those Auburn fans was finally successful.

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