Today was the day of my annual physical. I usually have them in February so I know whether to celebrate my upcoming birthday in March or just buy the coffin and sit in the dark and wait for my Cheney episode. I’ve been going to the same doctor for 36 years so he knows who I am. I am his chronological patient number 114 out of close to 10,000 that he's examined in his office though he has examined many thousands more in hospitals. He says he will retire when his heart does. I tell him that I don't open his bill unless I have my defibrillator charged up and ready to go.
I am now treated so well he uses two fingers during the prostate exam. In fact there is something about this procedure that forces me into saying really stupid things during the only time of the year when I have any reason to look at my swollen ankles.
“If you didn’t do that, I wouldn’t have any sex at all.”
“Have your fingers gotten longer since last year.”
“Are you expecting to find Judge Crater up there?”
“Are you now using a miner’s helmet this year?”
“Check to see if my personality wants to come home.”
“I keep all loose change you find.”
"Did you just send in a surveying team?"
“I’d rather have you blow smoke up my ass.”
“Do I get a medical discount if you want to do it a second time?”
"Did I just hear a rimshot?"
"Oh I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener."
“You just pushed my tonsils into my sinus cavity.”
“So this is how babies are made.”
“We do this because you think I need practice for prison.”
“Would a female doctor expect a phone call the next morning?”
My doctor never laughs. I believe he just adds a few extra dollars to the bill as compensation.