Tag Archives: tests

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Wheelie Dumb Old Car Jokes

The teenager in his battered old jalopy was pulled over by a traffic cop.  “You were doing sixty-five,” the officer told him.  “Promise me you’ll keep an eye on your speed and I’ll let you off with a warning.”

The kid said, “Oh, please give me a ticket, otherwise none of my friends will ever believe this heap could go that fast.

***

The Dumpster Cinderella called the police in a panic.  “Someone got into my garage and stripped my car!  It looks all right outside, but when I get in, I see they’ve stolen the steering wheel, the dashboard, and even the glove compartment!”

“Keep calm, Ma’am,” said the voice at the other end.  “Here’s what we want you to do.  Take a deep breath, and then go to the garage and take a good look at the doors, especially the locks.  Then call us again…. when you realize you were in the back seat.

***

The used car dealer was showing a customer a dented heap that still had most of its headlights and one and a half bumpers.  “Here’s a beauty,” he gushed.  “Only driven on Sundays by a little old lady.”

“Yeah?” said his visitor.  “As a getaway car?”

***

The customer walked around the old heap and asked the used car dealer.  “Does it have air conditioning?”

“No,” the salesman admitted, “But you get good cross ventilation…. through the holes in the floorboard.

***

The woman looked out the window on a drive through the countryside and complained to her husband at the wheel, “You don’t cuddle the way we used to when we were dating.”

He glanced over.  “Well…. I haven’t moved.

***

The pedestrian leaped back too late and went flying as the car sped through the red light.  “What are you?” he shouted, clutching his arm, “Blind?”

“Blind?” said the driver, speeding on…”I hit you, didn’t I?”

***

Bitsy was telling Betsy about her driving test.  “I liked this instructor much better than the last one.  He wasn’t always shouting when I forgot my signals or pulled out into traffic without looking.”

“Did he pass you?” asked Betsy.

“No,” said Bitsy, “He passed out”

***

The cop came up to the window of the car he’d just pulled over for some very erratic traffic maneuvers.  “Let’s see your license,” he ordered.

“Are you kidding?” the driver laughed.  “Who’d give ME a license?”

***

It had been a spectacular smash-up, but both drivers came out of it unharmed.  The driver of the red car said, “Here, you look really shook up.  Better have a bracer.”  He pulled a flask from his back pocket and passed it to the driver of the blue car.

“Thanks,” said the second man, and took a healthy swig.  “You need one too, I expect.”

“Not yet,” said the first driver.  “I’ll wait ‘til after these troopers smell your breath and fill out the accident report”

***

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Well Worth 10 Days Of Medical Hell

TDLR

I did not take my doctor’s advice on how to sneak into the little, local cardiac hospital through the emergency department.

I SHOULD HAVE!

Instead, I patiently waited for the cardiac clinic – and waited- and waited!  Days flowed into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

After three months and a week, I drove to the clinic on a Friday and raised a small amount of hell. I told the receptionist that I was busy dying out here and would appreciate if someone would do something.

On the Monday morning, I got a call from my newly adoptive doctor’s assistant.  I would need to start with an EKG. Someone had cancelled; did I wish to take their appointment that afternoon?

Damned Right!

I must have piqued some interest. That Friday, I got a call asking me to come back in, next Wednesday for an Echocardiogram. The next day I got called to (finally) come back for my stress test and evaluation.

The test is to walk on a continuously inclining treadmill, in three-minute segments. I didn’t last the first TWO minutes. I got home to an email scheduling me for an Angiogram at the hospital in four weeks. The fire has been lit, but the days still stretch.

Two weeks later, I got a phone call on a Wednesday. Someone had cancelled an Angiogram on Friday. Scared the hell out of me! Same guy as the EKG? Did he die? Did I want to take it?

HELL YES!

Ordinarily, they would mail out a requisition for an independent clinic to perform blood tests, urine sample, heart X-ray, blood pressure and an all-out tree’s worth of questionnaires and other assorted paperwork. With no lead time, those would be done in the hospital, after the test.

I arrived at the hospital Friday at noon, to register. I was escorted to surgery prep, stripped, given a backless gown, a hair net, and paper booties. ID was checked and an IV shunt put in the back of my left hand.  About 1:30 I was told to take me and my pal the IV pole down the hall to the washroom, have a final pee, and sit on a chair outside the operating room.

A nurse escorted me in, up onto the table, and inserted an anesthetic line, while the surgeon readied my right arm.  I asked her how long the procedure would take.  If it’s simple and easy – 20 minutes.  If there are problems – 45 minutes.  The doctor nodded to her, and…. she tapped my leg and said that they were putting me on a gurney to recovery.  RECOVERY??!  I looked up at the clock, and wondered where the Hell three quarters of an hour went.  Not a good sign!

When all the procedures were completed, the experts examined and discussed them.  I was later given the copy of my test, above.  It shows four feeder arteries, all clogged, from 76%, to 98%, and blocked both at the top, as well as the delivery end.  My surgeon only had to install four large pieces of vein, but, technically, I got an octuple bypass.  Most hearts only have three feed vessels.  Mine had spontaneously formed a new one to take up the slack.  That was the one that was only 76% blocked.

The doctor most capable of installing stents, took one look, and said, “Too big!  Too Complicated.”  I needed to be kept under medical observation, and had to wait until the next day to shed my anesthetics, so that I could make a (reasonably) intelligent, informed decision.

It came down to either a 15% chance of dying from heart failure within ten years, or allowing some guy to open my chest with a miniature chain saw, stop my heart for a while, so that I was legally dead, attach me to a heart/lung machine, and install new plumbing.   The choice was unenviable, but inevitable.

After getting someone else’s EKG appointment, and someone else’s angiogram appointment, the surgeon I urgently needed, had a Monday afternoon open.  Tough as nails, by 6 PM, the family was informed that I had come through well.  A night in Emergency observation – three days in Cardiac ICU, because there were no free beds in the recovery ward – slowly, I recovered.

Finally, a week after registering, I was told that I would go home on Monday.  On Sunday, a lady doctor told me that she was going to take the wires out of my chest.  I thought that she meant wires holding my sternum together, but she gently withdrew two thread-fine neuro-electronic leads still embedded in my heart and protruding from my chest, that had been attached to the external pacemaker which restarted and controlled my heart.

A nurse/trainee removed the first 25 alternate of 50 tiny surgical staples holding the vein-graft site on the inside of my right calf, as well as 18 of the 36 staples on my chest.  Monday morning, a nurse-supervisor removed two non-dissolving sutures that closed two chest drainage holes.  The same trainee removed the last 43 staples, peeled off the EKG tabs that had been glued to me for a week, and removed the Just In Case IV shunt.  The son went to get the car.  An orderly wheel-chaired me to the front entrance, and I was finally on my way to home and freedom.

The hospital likes to release cardiac patients at the same weight they were when they arrived.  I arrived at least 20 pounds overweight.  Over 10 days, I lost 20 pounds.  I could wish that more disappeared from my tubby tummy, than from muscle and other tissue, but it makes it easier on my rebuilt engine.  It is not a weight-loss program that I would recommend, but the entire experience was well worthwhile.

Many Americans denigrate Canada, and our socialized medicine system.  It’s hard to estimate, but I’d guess that I was the recipient of $500,000 to $1,000,000 of time, talent, training, specialized equipment and supplies – and ten more years of decent life only cost me an outrageous $100 for parking.  If there are any other gory details you’d like to know, feel free to ask.

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’24 A To Z Challenge – G

No matter where you go – There you are!

I’d have published this post earlier, but my Procrastinators Anonymous meeting started late.  😮

Johnny Cash sang, I’ve Been Everywhere.  I/we never had the time or money to be everywhere, but I’ve been to a number of interesting places.  Before I retired, I went with my brother, and swam in the ocean at Tampa, Key West, and Daytona Beach.  I took the wife, and swam at Myrtle Beach, and Charleston.  I told a Canadian Snowbird that I’d visited Myrtle Beach, and he asked me if I was into golf or tattoos.  Every third store on the main drag sells either golf equipment, tattoos, or printed tee-shirts – often about either golf or tattoos.

I’ve said that I had to retire, just to have the time to drive the wife and I, and daughter, to all our medical appointments.  Take last week – Please!  Monday I went to the hospital for a bone density scan.  Tuesday, the wife and I went to our Osteopath.  Wednesday was only a trip to a big mall, so that the wife could purchase a newer, better, smarter, more powerful, cell phone.  She had it for three days before she lost it!  😦  We got it back, but I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on her.

Thursday, I took the daughter and wife to their podiatrist.  Friday I drove the daughter and her little dog 15 miles to our veterinarian.  On Saturday, we went to a local German Club to celebrate the wife’s brother’s 80th birthday – a reminder that mine is looming on the horizon.  Sunday was a trip to the downtown park to get Ethiopian food at the Multicultural Festival.

This ‘getting old’ is not for the faint of heart.  I have learned to

GALLIVANT

  1. to wander about, seeking pleasure or diversion; gad.
  2. to go about frivolously and publicly with multiple romantic partners.

This week looks to be just as busy.   We have a chiropractor appointment.  I get a quiet afternoon while the wife gallivants for coffee with her ex-co-worker girlfriend.  We take the daughter with us for our monthly Costco restocking jaunt, and the wife and I hit several stores, including a pet store, for things Costco doesn’t carry.

Next week includes a trip back to a Toronto hospital for a final checkup on the wife’s last year’s abdominal surgery.  The first time, I made the mistake of driving.  We quickly got smart, and subsequent trips were by commuter train.  Easy-Peasy!  A 90-minute train ride to Union Station, and a 5 minute cab ride to the hospital.

On our second trip, we got back to the rail depot, carefully read the electronic schedule, and got on a train listed to go home to “Kitchener.”  Fifteen miles in the wrong direction, a comment made the conductor inform us that we were on the wrong train, despite what the schedule had said.  It wasn’t just us.  Another rider insisted that he too wanted to get to Kitchener, and a third said that he’d seen the same thing occur the week before.  Travelling without purpose – this is where the Gallivanting kicks in.

I’m still hoping to work in a trip to the metro-Toronto IKEA store for an exciting tour of their food court, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t even had time to do a McDonalds drive-thru.  How about you??  Have you been able to gallivant??  😕

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’24 A To Z Challenge – D

The results of my angina blood test are back.  Apparently I’m 70% gravy.

OH LARD, I’M COMIN’

I thought that I had found the perfect D-word for my A to Z challenge.

DESUETUDE

I mean…. de-SUET-ude??!  Get the grease out of the old arteries??!

GET THE LARD OUT!

The US dictionary insists that parochial Americans should pronounce it, diss-wit- ood.  Of course, being a linguistic genius, and knowing its history and construction, I know that it should be pronounced more like, deh-soo-et (or swet)-ood.  Perhaps I’m not the genius I thought I was.  It has nothing to do with cleaning out clogged arteries.  The actual meaning is, the state of being no longer used or practiced – disuse, inactivity.

I have a whole list of things that will soon join that description.  No longer will I be flitting around the house, or dashing upstairs and down, or using the aisles at Costco like my private walking trails.  The wife and daughter are both semi-handicapped.  The wife shops with a cane, and the daughter with a forearm crutch.  I can do anything that I used to – I just have to do it much slower, and plod along at their pace now.

French fries are now verboten.  I turned in my New York Fries loyalty card to my doctor, and she replaced it with a complementary membership to Salads-R-Us.  My bitching and whining about it have not been discontinued, though.  Do tacos or burritos contain cholesterol??   😮   D for DAMN!!

 

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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 30th, 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.  😀

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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.

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Rather Pointed One-Liners

I’m not a cactus expert….
….but I know a prick when I see one.

I’ve learned a lot from my mistakes….
….I’m even thinking of making a few more.

I was grilling a chicken last night….
….For the last time, why did you cross the road?

How to fall down the stairs:
Step 1
Step 2
Step 3
Step 6
Step 9
Step 12
Floor

When it comes to great sex….
….It’s not the meat.  It’s the tumidity.

A fool and his money….
….are never around when I need them.

I’m responsible for what I say….
….not what you understand.

I went to the paint store to get thinner….
….It didn’t work.

I knew the psychic was a phony….
….the moment she took my check.

The Institute of Unfinished Research has concluded that…
….6 out of 10 people

Never discuss infinity with a mathematician….
….You’ll never hear the end of it.

I was sitting in traffic the other day….
….Probably why I got run over.

I just saved a ton of money on Christmas presents….
….by discussing politics on social media.

Just got my doctor’s test back, and I’m quite disappointed….
….Turns out, I’ll never be a doctor.

I married my wife for her looks….
….but not the ones I’ve been getting recently.

I was going to do a post about anticlimaxes….
….but in the end, I didn’t.

Propaganda is when an Englishman….
….takes a good look at something.

I have a recurring dream….
….where I divide 10 by 3.

Knock, knock….
….Who’s there?….
….Granddad….
….QUICK!  STOP THE CREMATION!

I asked my girlfriend how she avoids clickbait….
….Her answer may shock you.

A man asks a librarian for a book about noise levels….
….She replies, “Sure, what volume would you like?”

I don’t believe in skeptics….

I wasn’t going to drink after my shift….
….then I worked my shift

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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 29th for a YouTube instruction video.  On the 27th, the office said that he had declined.  The schedule reverted to April 16.  On the 12th, 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 5th; he got the results and called on the 8th.  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 15th.  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.  😀

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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 6th 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 30th, 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.   😳

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Senior Texting Comedy

Teens have their texting codes (LOL, TMI, OMG, TTYL, etc.).

Not to be outdone by these little SNK (snotty nosed kids), now, finally we long-suffering seniors have our own texting codes!

Texting for Seniors as follows:

ATD – At the Doctor’s

BFF – Best Friend’s Funeral

BTW – Bring the Wheelchair

CBM – Covered by Medicare

CUATSC – See You at the Senior Centre

DWI – Driving While Incontinent

FWBB – Friend with Beta Blockers

FWIW – Forgot Where I Was

FYI – Found Your Insulin

GGPBL – Gotta Go, Pacemaker Battery Low

GHA – Got Heartburn Again

IMHO – Is My Hearing-Aid On?

LMDO – Laughing My Dentures Out

LOL – Living on Lipitor

OMMR – On My Massage Recliner

ROFL..CGU – Rolling on the Floor Laughing.. Can’t get up!

TOT – Texting on Toilet

TTYL – Talk to You Louder

WTP – Where are the Prunes?

WWNO – Walker Wheels Need Oil

GGLKI – Gotta Go, Laxative Kicking In

SYAG – See you at the Gathering

***

The CIA had an opening for an assassin. After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done, there were three finalists: two men and a woman.

For the final test, the CIA agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun.

“We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances. Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair. Kill her.”

The man said “You can’t be serious. I could never shoot my wife.” The agent said, “Then you are not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home.”

The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about five minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, “I tried, but I can’t kill my wife.”

The agent said, “You don’t have what it takes, so take your wife and go home.”

Finally, it was the woman’s turn. She was given the same instructions to kill her husband.

She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard one after another. Then they heard screaming, crashing, and banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet. The door opened slowly and there stood the woman, wiping sweat from her brow.

“The gun was loaded with blanks,” she said. “I had to kill him with the chair.”

***

An old geezer became bored in retirement and decided to open a medical clinic.
He put a sign up outside that said: “Dr. Geezer’s clinic. Get your treatment for $500, if not cured, get back $1,000.”
Doctor “Young,” who was positive that this old geezer didn’t know beans about medicine, thought this would be a great opportunity to get $$.  So he went to Dr. Geezer’s clinic.
Dr. Young: “Dr. Geezer, I have lost all taste in my mouth. Can you please help me??”
Dr. Geezer: “Nurse, please bring medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in Dr. Young’s mouth.”
Dr. Young: Aaagh!! — “This is Gasoline.”  Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You’ve got your taste back. That will be $500.”  Dr. Young gets annoyed and goes back after a couple of days figuring to recover his money.

Dr. Young: “I have lost my memory; I cannot remember anything,”  Dr. Geezer: “Nurse, please bring medicine from box 22 and put 3 drops in the patient’s mouth.”

Dr. Young: “Oh, no you don’t, — that is Gasoline!”

Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You’ve got your memory back. That will be $500.”

Dr. Young (after having lost $1000) leaves angrily and comes back after several more days.

Dr. Young: “My eyesight has become weak — I can hardly see anything!!!!”

Dr. Geezer: “Well, I don’t have any medicine for that so,” Here’s your $1000 back.” (Giving him a $10 bill)

Dr. Young: “But this is only $10!”

Dr. Geezer: “Congratulations! You got your vision back! That will be $500.”

Moral of story — Just because you’re “Young” doesn’t mean that you can outsmart an “old Geezer”

😳