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.

Can't chance it!
A guy goes on vacation to the Holy Land with his wife and mother-in-law. Halfway through their trip, the mother-in-law dies.

So the guy goes to an undertaker, who explains that they can ship the body home, but it'll cost $5,000 or they can bury her in the Holy Land for $150.

"We'll ship her home," says the son-in-law.

"Are you sure?" asks the undertaker. "That's an awfully big expense and I can assure you that we do a very nice burial here."

"Look," says the son-in-law, "two thousand years ago they buried a guy here, and three days later he rose from the dead. I just can't take that chance."