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.

Baptism Preparations
Before performing a baptism, the priest approached the young
father and said solemnly, "Baptism is a serious step. Are
you prepared for it?"

"I think so," the man replied. "My wife has made appetizers
and we have a caterer coming to provide plenty of cookies and
cakes for all of our guests."

"I don't mean that," the priest responded. "I mean, are you
prepared spiritually?"

"Oh, sure," came the reply. "I've got a keg of beer and a
case of whiskey."