Just Checking Up
Last January I put on my old lady panties, which are like big girl panties only wrinkled, and went to the doctor for a check-up. It had been a few years but I felt the same, only smug because I still felt the same. It was good to know the passing years had had no effect on me. That way I could be sure I wouldn't die--unlike you, who probably will. And the world caved in. First it turned out that the oxygen thingie they put on your finger said that my oxygen was a little low. Next I'm at a pulmonologist's and he's telling me I have asthma and need a sleep test. If you've ever had one of those sleep tests, you've seen what the downside of the next life is going to be. They hook you up to all these little stress patches and tell you to sleep normally. Apparently they had me confused with Gandhi. Then they told me I needed a CPAP (pronounced see-pap which sounds like something that would suckle me but isn't) machine. The CPAP industry is like the dog