I (Heart) Modern Medicine

Congratulate me, everyone.  I am the proud papa of a bouncing baby angina.

Increasingly, over the past month, I have noticed that, following any small amount of vigorous exercise, I got a feeling of constriction in my chest, and a strong ache, right up into my throat, causing a gag reflex a couple of times.  My Osteopath felt it might be cramping muscles, or jammed ribs, from poor posture while I read in my easy chair, but she (strongly) suggested that I contact my doctor.

It was well that she did.  I went home and called late in the afternoon.  As soon as I spoke the two magic words – Chest Pains – Shit Happened!  I got an appointment at 11 AM the next morning.  When I described my symptoms, she told me that I have a case of Angina Pectoris.

Since angina is caused by a clogged artery, she immediately prescribed a cholesterol medication to be added to my list.  She wanted blood and urine tests.  I wanted to use a lab near my house, but she insisted on a branch in her medical building before I even left.  On my way out, her assistant told me that she’d booked me for a bone-density test at the hospital.  The doctor referred me to the Cardiology Associates there, also.

The next day, my Ophthalmologist called, and wanted me to come to her office to measure my eye for the new lens that she’s going to insert.  She knew this when I was there a month ago.  Why didn’t she do that then??!  It entailed a 20-minute drive across town, for a 5-minute procedure, and then a 20-minute drive home.  I’m scheduled for surgery at 7 AM, April 30^th, so wish me luck tomorrow.  To prepare, I received three different eye-drop medications – one to begin two days before the operation and the others to continue a week – and 4 weeks – after.

MD says that angina is medically considered “Normal, Acute, or Emergency.”  I’ve gone from normal, to acute.  She said that, as acute, even with her referral, it could take two – three – even four months to be seen.  She said that, if I have a bad attack, to immediately go to Emergency.  It’s caused by over-exertion.  I have found that sitting and taking deep breaths makes it disappear.  I don’t want to drive, even if the son didn’t have the car at work, and it would be gone by the time I arrived.

She told me, to shortcut the wait, to go to Emergency at 6:00/6:30 AM, tell the triage nurse that I’d had an attack, that my doctor wants me to be given a stress test and evaluated.  The new crew comes on-duty at 7.  Take a friend, a couple of books, and some food and drink.  The wait could be ten or twelve hours – but I’ll be seen and assessed that day.

Despite the high cost of living, it remains a popular option.  Medically, I’ve become – and will remain – Busy, Busy, Busy!
Busy
Stayin’ Alive!
Stayin’ Alive!

***

Because of the surgery, this week’s Wednesday post may be on Thursday.  😀

Keeping An Eye On You

Old age is upon me, and The Game is beginning to be played a bit differently.  I turn 80 in September.  The Province of Ontario, in an attempt to reduce the number of incompetent drivers, insists that I be retested soon, and every two years.

I still think that I am as good a driver as most, and better than far too many, if a little aggressive.  My only worry was about my eyesight.  It continues to decline.  Recently, I had my yearly checkup with my ophthalmologist.  The technician asked if I had noticed any deterioration.  I said NO.  She then ran some tests, and showed me what I had not noticed.

After retinal surgery several years ago, I received a new, plastic lens in my right eye.  The vision is clear, except for a small divot/dead zone in the center.  I rely on ‘averaging’ with my left eye.  The tests showed that cataracts were clouding the left lens, so that my vision was down to 20/50, the Province’s limit.  The eye doc told me that she will schedule me for day surgery, to insert a new, plastic lens in the left eye, some time in June or July, depending on the hospital’s schedule.  This will give me time to heal and adapt, by my birthday.

I recently spoke to a lady who had just turned 81, and went through this last year.  She said that all they had her do was draw an analog clock, showing 10:15….  W.T.F!?  My Osteopath told me that she went through this with her mother and her progressive dementia.  Often, they don’t even check vision.  They are more worried about loss of cognitive ability on the roads.  As the son says, if you can’t find your car keys, that’s just memory.  If you don’t know what car keys do, they want you off the roads.

I was willing to draw a digital clock, with two squares and some numbers, but they insist on a circle, a center dot, a big hand and a little hand.  Anyone our age should remember what they look like.  With the lens/vision situation taken care of, I feel fairly confident, even if the retesting is more complex.

I’ll keep you updated, to know whether I’m allowed to do more driving than just making other people crazy.  So, Here’s lookin’ at you, kid. Soon.

Recovery Fibbing Friday

Pensitivity101’s short edition, just questions to lie your socks off to.

1. What is an orderly? – No-one in my clan. Google Chaos, and the top result is our family portrait.
2. What is an auxiliary? – Just like, in the UK, they say ‘arse,’ instead of ASS, In North America, ‘auxiliary’ is a euphemism for ‘axillary,’ which means ‘armpit’, as in Donald Trump’s renewed attempt to become the President of the United States has made Mar-A-Lago the political armpit of America.
3. What is a clip? – It is both the haircut, and the $58 that Haircuts-R-Us charges mostly-bald guys.
4. What does ECG mean? – It means that you’ve reached that point in life where you’ll have to learn a bunch of medical initialisms – EKG, CBC, EEG, MRI….WTF, DNR, and every name in your Little Black Book has DR. or MD after it.
5. 5.  What is The Crash Team? – Three of the wife’s sisters.  They maintain their driving license, just in case hubby has a heart attack, but they learned to park by ear.  Back up till it bangs.  Turn left, right here.  Turn signals are for wimps.  I hear they’ve opened a training school for demolition derby drivers, and are the darlings of the local body shops.6. What is a candy striper? – The cake decorator who puts the special script on the icing.

   7.  What is an IV? – Four PM on a sundial.
   I’ve heard that the Government wants to ban Roman numerals….
   ….Not on my watch!

   8.  What is a call button? – A clickable screen icon for when you are playing online poker.

   

   9.  Why is everything white? – Because you’re having a near-death experience. Don’t worry!  Both Heaven and Hell have rejected you.  You’re about to get a cold reboot, (Thanx to a handy defibrillator) and things will soon be normal again.

   10. Why don’t they have biscuits on the tea trolley? – It must be a supply-chain problem, and nothing to do with the fact that I got a job in the kitchen.

Fibbing Friday Movie Night

Here goes Pensitivity101 then.  You may or not remember these popular movies, be they the originals or remakes, but what do you think they could have been about?

1. The Parent Trap

She said, “I don’t know how I got pregnant.  I took ‘The Pill’ every week.  🙄

2. The Incredible Journey

When the wife went out for the day with her girlfriend, I returned all my empty soda bottles for refund, and hied my way over to my nearest Burger King, only to find that that it had been purchased by Chick-Fil-A, and wasn’t open on Sundays any more.  I had to console myself by driving all the way over to the other side of the city to visit Taco Bill.

3. Aladdin

It was an extended promotional video from the Aladdin Company, who produce Thermos©-type products.  How do they know to keep the hot stuff hot, and the cold stuff cold??  It’s magic.  And they are delivered to a store near you by flying carpet.

4. Mission Impossible

It was a short PSA video from the DMV, desperately trying to get drivers to use their signals, check their blind spots before changing lanes, and how to properly navigate roundabouts/rotaries.  C’mon Americans!!  The Brits have been doing it for over a century.  The original copy, on a thumb-drive, was destroyed in a car-crash, between the studio and the Government office.  😳

5. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

When Ornge, Southern Ontario’s emergency medical air evacuation helicopter, takes off from an authorized pick-up heliport near the down-town hospital, and heads for the bigger, better-equipped hospital in London, Ont, in a straight line, it passes directly over my house.

6. The Wind in the Willows

In a disastrous attempted sequel to ‘Blazing Saddles,’ the bunch of malodorous cattle-minders drive the herd to Chicago, and celebrate with a Tex-Mex meal containing three kinds of beans.  They relax afterward in the shade of some trees.  Despite dead-calm weather, the branches are soon rustling and waving in the accumulated breeze.  Now I know why they’re called weeping willows.

7. Underworld

That was a feature movie, developed to tell the back story and life of sewer-worker Ed Norton, Ralph Cramden’s fall guy buddy on the TV series The Honeymooners.  It’s a good thing that the ‘60s techno-nerds were never successful at developing Smellovision.

8. Legally Blonde

Dear Ms Pensitivity:
Please excuse Archon for not having a humourous answer for this prompt.  His creative Muse abandoned him before he was finished with the list.  He has spent most of this week in bed, with a cheap hooker and a bag of blow severe case of depression.  He promises to have two fibs for next week, including this one.
Mama Archon

9. The Terminator

After I mounted the plaque that I wrote of in last week’s list, my Keystone Kops Karen neighbour ranted and raved sweetly and kindly informed me that I was a complete asshole, (I never do things halfway) and she was never going to speak to me again.  Oh, don’t tease me, you minx.

10. The Love Bug

No glove – No love  Chlamydia is not just a Negro girl’s first name.

A Medial Examination Of Socio-Economic Disparities

I just got back from a stay at a $500/night hotel, and Boy, is my wallet tired!  I was definitely out of my cultural and financial depth.  Even the serving staff looked down on us.

The wife was told to report to a Toronto hospital at 6:15 AM for her surgery.  It was either start driving from home at 4 AM, or find a nearby hotel/motel.  Since the surgery could possibly reveal cancer, this might be her/our last hurrah.  This was her little adventure, so she wanted to do the booking.  (Shoulda looked over her shoulder)

She called Trivago, to book a three-day stay at a nearer, less-expensive hotel, but they could only provide two nights.  With that “Two-Day” thought in mind, the clerk offered her a $1000+, 5-star booking.  The wife saw- arrive on the 14^th, stay the 15^th, check out the 16^th, “That’s three days, right?”  It wasn’t till I couldn’t get back into the room on the third day, that I found that I had to pony up another $500, toot de sweet, or not be allowed to recover our belongings or rest my weary head.  And then, the snotty little night manager had the nerve to complain that the digits on my credit card didn’t match the digits on the wife’s card when she made the original reservation, and demanded photo ID.

For that rate, I thought that some of the amenities would be included, but I guess they feel that, if you can afford it, you can just keep on paying.  They charged $32/day to park in their underground garage.  The ‘not-in-downtown’ hospital charged $15.50 daily max.  The best bargain was the $2/can for vending machine Pepsi.  The hospital charged their captive audience $2.50/can, and some of the machines did not accept cash – bills or coins.  Tap the app, or go thirsty.

The first night, we ate in the basement restaurant.  Judicious ordering kept the total down to $90, including tip, for two people.  We would spend that at a Kelsey’s or The Pickle Barrel.  I didn’t want the little $13 glass of white wine, or the $19 whiskey cocktail.  We each got a glass of ice water.  I asked if they had soft drinks.  I ordered Pepsi, and the wife got iced tea.  The waiter brought two more stemmed goblets full of ice, and a can of Pepsi, and a can of Nestea.

Later, in the room, the wife commented that, “Those drinks were expensive,  $5.00!”  I replied, “That’s not bad – $2.50 apiece.  That’s what the vending machines at the hospital charge.”  “No, no, they were $5/apiece!”  And we had to crack and pour them ourselves.  😛

If you didn’t want to crawl out of bed, and join the hoi polloi, you could phone in an order for breakfast from the grill, and have it delivered to your room.  Again, I could not justify an $18 omelet, or a $10 bowl of oatmeal.  The literature said that there was a breakfast buffet where we’d eaten supper.  We both assumed that it was complementary.  I got off the elevator to see a sign which read, “Breakfast Buffet – $30.  Hot chocolate and a fruit Danish from the hospital cafeteria cost a lot less than that.

When I (finally) checked out, the room clerk wanted to know how I had enjoyed my stay.  I had to be very circumspect and non-committal.  Educational and enlightening.  I’ve been treated better, and provided with a free, Continental breakfast at places that charge $125/night.  Even with a huge Lottery win, I can’t imagine ever going back.  I stayed there my brother’s “twice” – the first time, and the last time.  I’m just gonna stomp the dust off my shit-kicker boots, and drive on up the street to the Days Inn.

Pisces, Libra, Virgo – But No Cancer

THE DEED IS DONE!
SHE MADE THE CUT!
(actually, someone else did)
THE WIFE IS HOME, SAFE AND SOUND, WITH ONLY FOUR NEW HOLES IN HER HIDE.

When last we left our comely heroine, she was waiting for a surgeon to schedule an operation to remove a possibly cancerous polyp from her duodenum.  A Japanese doc was to do it on March 29^th for a YouTube instruction video.  On the 27^th, the office said that he had declined.  The schedule reverted to April 16.  On the 12^th, the secretary of the Toronto endoscope surgeon reported that he felt he didn’t want to risk removing her Cancer and referred her to a thoracic surgeon at another Toronto hospital.

He needed a CAT-scan to know what he was getting into, and scheduled one at a local hospital.  When she got there, they told her that they would be using medical dyes for image contrast.  Previous such dyes have caused serious allergic reactions.  They gave her a prescription for 2 Prednisone, a steroid that reduces swelling, and 2 heavy-duty antihistamines.  When she obtained them, and tried to rebook the test, she found that only the doctor could do that.  April came and went.

She finally got the scan on May 5^th; he got the results and called on the 8^th.  His office would email some authorization forms, and schedule the operation – soon.  Then we were told that she had to have another CAT-scan of her lungs.

Finally, the operation was scheduled for June 15^th.  The doctor who we were dealing with was the head surgeon – the bureaucratic manager – of a three-doctor team.  He passed her off to yet another surgeon, a youngish female Chinese-Canadian with great hands, and good control.  In the end, the operation was not performed by a Ninja, but by a Kung Fu queen.

She told me that she would try to do it laproscopically, for minimal invasion – should take about three hours.  If there were problems, she’d have to incise, and open the abdomen – about eight hours.  At 3-1/2 hours, I began to worry.  At 4, and 4-1/2, I worried harder.  Finally, just at the five hour mark, I was told that it was over.

Kung Fu Katy told me that there had been some minor delays, but she’d been able to do it lapro.  Between the CAT-scan, and the poking around, she knew exactly where it was.  She cut a tiny circle and popped it right out.  Initial hospital test said that it was not cancerous, but it got sent to a lab for macro testing.

We hope that the growth shows no cancer, or that it is minor and contained.  Free, socialized medicine or not, a person could die of all this bureaucracy.

***

The wife’s four-week, post-op check-up has come and gone.  We thought that we might have to go to Toronto again, but the little surgeon was satisfied with a telephone interview.  Because of the stress of the surgery, and the anesthetic, she’s a little weaker and more disoriented than before, but the four little drill-holes all healed up nicely.

There had been enough time that the lab report was in.  While the growth was sprinkled with pre-cancerous cells, there was no indication that any of them had mutated.  She has been declared cancer-free.  We had hoped that the polyp was the cause of previous bouts of irritable bowel, causing extreme pain and diarrhea, but since she’s had one post-op bout, that hope has been dashed.

The surgeon mentioned that she might refer the wife back to the endoscope doc at the other hospital, just so that he could check from the inside that all was well.  The wife has experienced no problems, no pain, no noticeable internal bleeding.  We have not heard from the endo-doc.  If we ever do, it may necessitate another commuter-train adventure.

Thanx for your interest and concern.  😀

CANCER!

Well, that title got your attention!

The wife is going to be on TV – YouTube, actually – opposite a world-famous star.
I’ll send you the link later if you want.
You won’t see her face, just her guts, if you have the guts to watch.

The local YouTube videos are liberally sprinkled with Ontario Health PSA’s.  Middle-aged and older women, some alone, some with husbands/partners, all smiling at the camera, with the printed tagline,
I’m here because we caught it early!  😀

IT was cervical cancer!  Twenty years ago, a pap-smear result had me driving the daughter 75 miles to a specialty-clinic in the London, Ontario University Hospital, for a little nip and tuck, and removal of a small, pre-cancerous – or just-cancerous, polyp.  She’s still here because they caught it early.

THEN THERE’S THE WIFE!
It all started innocently enough….
(How often have I used that line?)

After the wife fell down and banged her head, her doctor started a battery of tests to find out why.  The first thing she discovered was that the wife was mildly anemic.  The cause is often a minor internal bleed, so she ordered a colonoscopy and a gastric endoscopy.  This is the wife’s fourth colonoscopy in 12 years.  She made the G.I. guy promise to do the top end first.

He found and removed several polyps from her stomach, upper intestine, and lower intestine….  Then he found a big, nasty one right exactly where you don’t want to find one – at the narrow bottom of the duodenum, the hardest point in the body to get to, and work at.  The local doctor and hospital have about an 80/85% confidence level, so he referred her to a specialty-clinic at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto.  Any of the four surgeons, and the hospital’s high-tech equipment, rate 90/95% confidence.

He sent along color pictures.  We thought that the March 6^th visit would be for removal, but this guy wanted to do some more research.  A needle biopsy had indicated no evidence of cancer, but the big-city sawbones felt sure that there were some cancer cells sprinkled through it, that were randomly missed.

Whether cancerous or not, this thing’s got to come out – ASAP!  Already it almost blocks the passage, and getting bigger.  Scheduled surgery in Kitchener would have been mid-September.  Especially if this thing goes cancerous, that would be far too late.  The Toronto-doc could schedule it for mid- April.

This polyp is so large, so nasty, and so inaccessible, that our surgeon had all three of his partners watching the view-screen, offering thoughts and opinions, while he worked.  The best choice for removal was endoscopically, rather than invasive abdominal surgery.  He was pretty sure that he could take it out, but there were potential problems.  It’s a big mushroom.  If he snips it off too high up the stem, it and/or the cancer might regrow.  If he cut too close to the bottom, he might perforate the thin duodenum wall, damaging the liver and pancreas, and necessitating the abdominal surgery to repair the mishap.

One of the reasons that his best scheduled surgery date was mid-April, was that on March 28, 29, and 30^th, the clinic and hospital were hosting a world-wide conference of the best G.I. surgeons, including a ninja-Japanese surgeon with a confidence rating of 99/101%.  If this guy is not number one in the world, he’s in the top five

They were watching for problem cases like the wife’s, so that he could show his talents.  If we agreed, she would be part of a video of his work, to train and improve other surgeons.  Two of the benefits were that the operation would be done three weeks even sooner, and it would be done by the world’s best.  Of course we agreed – all that, and for free, under Canada’s socialized medical system.

***

Stay tuned.  Murphy got a chance to read the first draft, and has added some plot twists in the next chapter.   😳

Challenge: When Was The Last Time You Did Something New?

As I (slowly and painfully) approach 79, I thought that I was pretty much finished with “new things.”  Life had other ideas.

I recently tore a tendon in my left shoulder – probably shovelling snow.  I’ve never done that before.
I recently broke a rib – while sitting in my easy chair. I’ve never done that before.
I took the wife to the big, St. Mike’s, downtown hospital in Toronto, first for an endoscopic test, later for a pre-admission appointment, and finally for a difficult endoscopic surgery.  I’ve never done that before.

If I thought that traffic problems on the North-side bypass highway were bad, I ain’t seen nothin’ like the strangely-named, lake-hugging ‘Expressway’ I needed, to reach the hospital.  About the same volume of traffic, but with two or three fewer lanes to carry it in each direction.

It was a gigantic parking lot, sluggishly flowing along like a huge glacier, at barely better than a brisk walking pace – cars and trucks cutting others off, and drivers darting from lane to lane, frantically trying to gain a little space, and time.  I’m surprised that the reported rate of road rage and homicide isn’t higher.  I could see the hospital from the road, but the overhead electronic sign said that estimated arrival time at my exit was still 17 minutes.

That’s where the map program told me to drive six blocks north, and turn left onto Queen Street, where the hospital was located.  When I reached Queen, street signs said that left turns were prohibited.  Instantly, we were lost in a maze of narrow, crowded, one-way, no-turns-allowed, downtown streets, and were half an hour late eventually reaching the hospital.

This entire trip, especially the ‘Expressway’ portion, is not for the inexperienced or faint of heart, and not one that I cared to repeat.  The next “New” thing that the wife and I are going to do, is ride a train.  We have both ridden trains, but that was over half a century ago, shortly after steam engines gave way to diesels.

What will be “New” about it, will be the fact that it will be on a Commuter Train.  Every workday, tens – perhaps hundreds – of thousands of people commute hundreds of miles, from all over Southern Ontario, by means of 12 different rail-routes to go to work in the Big Smoke, using a system called GO-Trains.

The wife and I will use the Kitchener-to-Union Station, Toronto, portion of one of them.  Our Osteopath tried to convince us to use the regular Via Rail service.  ‘There’s more foot and leg room, and the seats are larger and more comfortable.’  And the difference in ticket costs for a one-way, one-passenger ride is, VIA – $89 vs. GO-Train Seniors’ price – $9.  Six trips, times $80/trip savings, totals $480!  For almost $500, I’d ride in a sardine can.  I was born at night – just not LAST night.  Take the GO train – cheap, simple and easy – no fuss, no muss, no expensive gas, no getting lost, no driving stress, no outrageous parking fees.

Assuming that all goes well – and since the best GI endo surgeon in the world, is performing the operation, in the best GI hospital suite in Canada, there’s no reason to assume otherwise – the next ‘New’ thing that the wife and I will try, as a celebration, is to drive to the more-easily and safely reached IKEA store on the near side of Toronto.

We’ll do the tourist thing and people-watch, and have the Swedish meatball lunch, perhaps with a Carlsberg Dark beer, and maybe some lingonberry jam.

Jack Fell Down

Jack fell down and broke his crown, and bureaucracy damn near killed him.

Actually, it was the wife who fell down.  She was just pulling up her pants after using the main-floor washroom, when her tinnitus, and other inner ear disorders upset her balance, and she keeled over backward, smacking her head against the door, and the floor.  Then followed five minutes of painful wriggling to move far enough so that the son and I could get the door open and help her up.

With COVID distancing mandates, it was three days before she even got a telephone interview with her doctor.  The doctor called at 2:00 PM.  When she heard of headaches, sleeping for 12/14 hours, and slurred speech, she suddenly insisted that we attend her clinic, immediately.

At 3:00 o’clock, she found bruising, and a droopy eye.  What we took to be a mild concussion, might be internal cranial bleeding.  She needs to know ASAP!  The city has two hospitals, but only one, shared, MRI machine.  A scheduled appointment could take weeks – too long.  She apologized, but said that, the only way to ensure an MRI today, is to go and sit in Emergency for seven hours.  Eventually, it will get done.

At 4:00 o’clock, we got the wife registered at Emerge.  It seemed simple.  Take the doctor’s work order out of the fax machine, and do the test as soon as a tech could be scheduled.  First, we waited twenty minutes to see a triage nurse.  She checked blood pressure, heart rate, blood-oxygen percentage and temperature, and directed us to the dreaded waiting room.  After another twenty minutes, another nurse showed up with a small cart, and took a blood sample for testing, and warned of a later urine sample requirement, and the need to see the on-call doctor before anything is done.

Then we settled in for the siege.  It is not first come – first served!  We know that she will be seen after the guy who slashed his fingers in a DIY accident, the woman with a bloody nose running down her face, and the young man knocked off his bicycle in traffic.  If we have to wait (and wait, and wait), at least we could enjoy the floor show.  Stupidity and larceny are in plentiful supply.

A chubby street hooker, with more ink than the New York Times, but no obvious distress, showed up.  A young homeless (?) woman, with a giant backpack and two stuffed shopping bags, managed to find a seat in the crowded room, to get out of the rain.  A young, female addict, who survived a minor overdose, stormed out and across the parking lot, still wearing the hospital’s blanket, and screaming, “Get away from me!  I don’t want to have anything to do with you!” at a boyfriend who has had enough, and is already half a block away.

Two security guards have an office with security monitors, just inside the entrance.  We caught a glimpse of them rushing outside, and chasing someone around the building.  Two male, and one female, Police officers patrol in and around the Emergency ward.  I looked for Tasers, but in tight quarters they might get grabbed.  At 6:00, I got her a coffee, and me a hot chocolate from the in-house Tim Hortons outlet, upstairs.  At 7:00 I got her a buttered tea-biscuit, and me a crème-cheese bagel.  It’s going to be a long night, and her diabetes needs to be fed.

At 8:00 a patrol-car cop brings in a young, female shoplifter.  He’s wearing a Taser, and she’s wearing handcuffs in front of her.  The wife later said that, around midnight, two cops brought in three young males involved in a bar fight, not only handcuffed behind, but also connected to ankle shackles.  One of them wailed that, He was just being paraded around, and everybody was going to know!

I had to reluctantly leave her alone at 8:30.  Our two little dogs have been locked in a cage for six hours.  The son needs the car to get to work at 10:30.  I was going to drive him across town, pick her up when she called, and drive back out to pick him up at 7:30 AM.  Already under work-stress, when he heard what was (not) happening, he took the night off, and ordered a pizza, because none of us was eating properly.

At 3:00 AM, she called to say that the (next-shift) doctor had examined her, and she was on her way to Nuclear Medicine.  At 3:45 she called to be picked up.  She entered the hospital at four PM, and finally got out at four AM.  The threatened seven-hour wait had stretched to twelve hours, for a five-minute test.  Thankfully, we now know that all is well.  Without any visible blood or injury, she still could have collapsed out of her chair at any moment.

Do you have a hospital horror story that you’d like to recount?  I will listen patiently, and commiserate.

Make Book On Humor

Subject: Muslim Bookstore

So, I was walking in the mall and I saw that there was a Muslim Bookstore.

The sign outside led me to wonder just what exactly was in a Muslim bookstore, so I went in.

As I was wandering around taking a look, the clerk gave me the stink eye, but asked if he could help me.

I know I didn’t look like his normal clientele, so I asked, “Do you have a copy of Donald Trump’s Book on his U.S. Immigration policy regarding Muslims and Illegal aliens?”

The clerk said, “Kiss my ass, Get out, and Stay Out!”

I said, “Yes, that’s the one. Do you have it in paperback?”

***

This Ought to Make All Grandpas Feel Warm and Fuzzy

A six-year-old goes to the hospital with her mother to visit her Grandpa. When they get to the hospital, she runs ahead of her mother and bursts into her Grandpa’s room. “Grandpa, Grandpa,” she says excitedly,  “As soon as my mother comes into the room, make a noise like a frog!

“What?” said her Grandpa.

“Make a noise like a frog because my mum said that as soon as you croak, we’re all going to Disney World.”

***

A retired older couple returned to a Mercedes dealership where the salesman has just sold the car they had been interested in to a beautiful, leggy, busty blonde in a mini skirt and a halter top. The old man was visibly upset. He spoke to the salesman sharply, “Young man, I thought you said you would hold that car till we raised the $55,000 asking price. Yet I just overheard you closed the deal for $45,000 to the lovely young lady there. And if I remember right, you had insisted there was no way you could discount this model.”

The salesman took a deep breath, cleared his throat and reached for a large glass of water.

“Well, what can I tell you? She had the cash ready, didn’t need any financing help, and, Sir, just look at her, how could I resist?”, replied the grinning salesman sheepishly.

Just then the young woman approached the senior couple and gave the car keys to the old man.

“There you go,” she said. “I told you I could get that idiot to lower the price. See you later Dad, Happy Father’s day.”

***

Better than a Flu Shot!

Miss Beatrice, the church organist, was in her eighties and had never been married. She was admired for her sweetness and kindness to all.

One afternoon the pastor came to call on her and she showed him into her quaint sitting room.  She invited him to have a seat while she prepared tea. As he sat facing her old Hammond organ, the young minister noticed a cut glass bowl sitting on top of it. The bowl was filled with water, and in the water floated of all things, a condom!

When she returned with tea and scones, they began to chat.  The pastor tried to stifle his curiosity about the bowl of water and its strange floater, but soon it got the better of him and he could no longer resist.

“Miss Beatrice”, he said, “I wonder if you would tell me about this?” pointing to the bowl.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “Isn’t it wonderful? I was walking through the park a few months ago and I found this little package on the ground. The directions said to place it on the organ, keep it wet and that it would prevent the spread of disease.”

“Do you know I haven’t had the flu all winter?”