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.

An ounce of brains
A lawyer finds out he has an inoperable brain tumor.

It's so large, they have to do a brain transplant.

His doctor gives him a choice of available brains.

There's a jar of rocket scientist brains for $10 an ounce.

A jar of regular scientist brains for $15 an ounce.

And a jar of lawyer brains for the sum of $800 an ounce.

The outraged lawyer says, "This is a rip off! How come the lawyer brains are so damned expensive?"

The doctor replies, "Do you know how many lawyers it takes to get an ounce of brains?"