When my insurance company refused to pay for my newborn son’s circumcision, I got a letter explaining its logic. Under the procedure "Circumcision" was written "Unable to locate member."
I'd just come home from my sixth medical appointment of the week with one more to go, so I was in a lousy mood when my daughter called. After I recited my woes, my daughter said, "Well, seven doctors is better than one coroner."
Years of smoking finally caught up with my friend John one morning when he keeled over at work, clutching his heart. He was rushed to a hospital and peppered with questions.
"Do you smoke?" asked a paramedic.
"No," John whispered. "I quit."
"That"s good. When did you quit?"
"Around 9:30 this morning."
Doing rounds, a new nurse couldn’t help overhearing the surgeon yelling, "Typhoid! Tetanus! Measles!"
"Why does he keep doing that?" she asked a colleague.
"Oh, he likes to call the shots around here."
Last Valentine’s Day, I arrived at the doctor’s office where I work as a receptionist to find a mystery man pacing up and down holding a package. As I got out of the car, he declared warmly, "I have something for you." I excitedly ripped open the bundle. It was a urine sample.
Dr. Smith asks his patient, "Which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?"
The patient replies, "Give me the good news."
Dr. Smith says, "You’re about to have a disease named after you."
