At the Doctor's

 

I had to go to the Doctor's a few days ago. He was not well, and our Saint Vincent Group in Church encourages us to visit the sick; so I had to go.

I waited in his waiting room and shared germs with all the other people there.

Whilst waiting there I saw an old man standing in the corner. No one offered him a seat. He was almost bent double with the weight of his years pressing on his shoulders. He stood looking down at his feet and steadying himself on his walking stick which he used to keep his balance. I was about to ask the nun sitting next to him to give up her seat, when the man's name was called over the loud-speaker.

He walked slowly, still bent down like the hunchback of Notre Dame, and shuffled his way out of the room and into the doctor's insulting room.

Moments later he came back standing upright and walking much happier with a step in his stride. Everyone was amazed at his recovery. It's a miracle; some said. But he explained, "No, it's not a miracle; the doctor gave me a longer walking stick!"

It was the nun's turn to go and see the doctor. Ten minutes later she came out of the insulting room crying her heart out. The other patients tried to comfort her. I was concerned in case she'd heard some terrible health news. Before I spoke to her my name was called on the loudspeaker.

I asked the doctor why the nun came out crying. He said he'd told her she was pregnant. I asked him, "Is she really pregnant?" He replied, "No ... but it cured her hiccups!"

Before I sat down I noticed a pen on the floor. I picked it up and handed it to the doctor. "Is this yours?" I asked.

He scribbled something on his pad and then said, "Yep .... it's definitely mine!"

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, "It seems like an ordinary pen to me!"

"It's certainly my handwriting," he replied, "anyway ... how are you?" he asked, "I have not seen you for a while!"

"Oh ... I've not been well!" I said.

"But you must come and see me when you're not well," he said, "That's what doctors are for!"

"I didn't want to disturb you, doctor," I explained, "besides, I hear you've not been well yourself. That's why I'm here. The Saint Vincent people in church sent me to come and visit you. How are you?"

"He looked down as he sat there and said, "To be honest, my legs hurt. I think I've got water on my knees!"

"You're probably not aiming straight," I told him, "why not do it sitting down?"

"Also ..." he continued whispering, "my libido has gone!"

"Oh ... I got rid of my Italian car too," I said, "I now drive a Toyota!"

"Ever since it happened I feel hungry all the time," he went on.

I felt really sorry for him. I reached into my pocket, and gave him the solitary KFC leg I always have there for emergencies, and left without saying a word.

It's always charitable to visit the sick. Make sure you have some food in your pocket when you go!

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