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 problem with teeth
This minister just had all of his remaining teeth pulled and new dentures were being made.

The first Sunday, he only preached 10 minutes.

The second Sunday, he preached only 20 minutes.

But, on the third Sunday, he preached 1 hour 25 minutes.

When asked about this by some of the congregation, he responded this way.

The first Sunday, my gums were so sore it hurt to talk.

The second Sunday, my dentures were hurting a lot.

The third Sunday, I accidentally grabbed my wife's dentures... and I couldn't stop talking!