38th Time is the Lucky One?

It's my birthday tomorrow. My birthday itself doesn't mean much to me as it's not like my body suddenly ages a year. It's a day just like any other. That said, now that I have a wife, she cooks me a delicious meal and gives me a present. This year she said my present is something you do to make something. Since I can't make babies anymore, that leaves one thing out.

Belles birthday is coming up next weekend. She'll be 19 so can finally buy her own weed. She's got the couple of days planned. Unfortunately, we have to do more driving than originally anticipated as she injured her knee at derby, She's been on crutches and in a brace for a week so far and will get it off just in time for her birthday. No idea what is wrong yet but she sees the specialist next week. Possible meniscus or MCL tear. Or maybe it's in her head.

She's ended up doing what I would have done in her place: not leaving the house. We kicked her out to go to derby practice last night just to get her seeing someone else. I like staying at home way more than her but even I need to get out at least once a week.

And now a poem about aging:

There once was a man from a town.
That did nothing but put on a frown.

He went out for the day,
Got lost in the hay.

And now he's thrown his back out in the thicket.

I hope you enjoyed my poem.
Or is it even done?
I think somethings wrong with my dome.
It's acting just like a bum.

Help me please, Poetry has trapped me.
And now I think I've finally gone senile.