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.

A Long Hot Bath
Feeling edgy, a man took a hot bath.

Just as he became comfortable, the doorbell rang. The man got out of the tub, put on his slippers and robe and went to the door.

A salesman at the door wanted to know if he needed any brushes. Slamming the door, the man returned to the bath.

The doorbell rang again. On went the slippers and robe, and the man started for the door again. He took one step, slipped on a wet spot, fell backward, and hit his back against the hard porcelain bathtub.

Cursing under his breath, the man struggled into his street clothes and with every move a stab of pain, drove to the doctor.

After examining him, the doctor said, "You know, you've been lucky. Nothing is broken. But you need to relax... Why don't you go home and take a long hot bath?"