A final diagnosis
Thought I'd let my doctor check me,
'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . .
All those aches and pains annoyed me
And I couldn't sleep at night.

He could find no real disorder
But he wouldn't let it rest.
What with Medicare and Blue Cross,
We would do a couple tests.

To the hospital he sent me
Though I didn't feel that bad.
He arranged for them to give me
Every test that could be had.

I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on an ice cold table,
While my gizzards were x-rayed.

I was checked for worms and parasites,
For fungus and the crud,
While they pierced me with long needles
Taking samples of my blood.

Doctors came to check me over,
Probed and pushed and poked around,
And to make sure I was living
They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me;
My affliction is old age.

Blind man
A nun in the convent walked into the bathroom where mother superior was taking a shower.

"There is a blind man to see you," she says.

"Well, if he is a blind man, then it does not matter if I'm in the shower, send him in."

The blind man walks into the bathroom, and mother superior starts to tell him how much she appreciates him working at the convent for them.

She goes on and on and 10 minutes later the man interrupts, "That's nice and all, ma'am, but you can put your clothes on now. Where do you want me to put these blinds?"