"It's Time To Put A Value On Your Parts!"

"Too many 'exploratories' can make you ring hollow!"


I don't feel like I want to go out anymore. I especially don't want to go to the dentist, a doctor or a specialist. Every time I go, it seems that they each take a little something else away and never return it. Then for the privilege, they send you a bill. Is that gratitude? It’s not that I haven’t asked. The other day, I went to the doctor and asked him if could have my gall bladder back. He looked at me as if I were crazy. I wonder if he cleaned it out and gave it to somebody else who needed one. These little thoughts keep running through my head.

I hate to tell you how much stuff I'm missing. I discovered that the other day. I was talking to my wife and started to hear this echo. I was asking myself where the heck did that noise come from. And then I realized it was from me. I am convinced that it's because I'm missing stuff that should be there and I’m growing increasingly hollow inside. That’s a bad sign. I suspect I will start rattling soon. Now, I’m worrying that perhaps the doctor left something inside me the last time they did an exploratory. Why do doctors do exploratories anyway? The last time I had one of those things, I was being administered this sodium penthathol or whatever it is they give you, and this is the truth, the doctor came over me with her mask on and said , aren’t you so and so. And I said “yes” just before I passed out and she said I used to go to your meetings all the time. And I don’t know if that made me feel any better but it was the last thing I remembered. Anyway, as it turned out the surgeon came over after the exploratory and said everything was fine. I was happy at least for a few months until we discovered that my condition was completely misdiagnosed and wound up in John Hopkins for the full nine yards. Practice? Why don’t they practice on cadavers instead of people who are losing their insides? . Are they curious?. I mean what’s so different about my insides than anyone else’s?

Then when you’re lying in bed, they bring in their whole class to look at you as if your some kind of freak. This worries me more. Why are they all looking at me? .
Do they know that he left something inside? Or was it that they found something in me that they can feature in a medical journal in coming months—maybe even a series? And then they never tell you—at least directly—what’s wrong with you… I wouldn’t mind if they said, “Mr. Aaron, we have some bad news for you.” “Okay,” I would say,” I am a big boy you can tell me.”
And they would reply, “Well, sir, it seems we’ve detected a rattle?” and then they would dash out without ever explaining why I have a rattle. Why did they need all those people around to tell me something I already knew. Maybe that was to have witnesses if I ever decided to sue them for leaving something inside of me……

Personally, I don’t really think you should rattle under any circumstances especially when you’re playing hide and seek with the grand-kids... It’s a dead give-away!

Now, that I think about it. I’ve been a doctor’s experimental mouse now since I was a kid and somebody told me I would have to have my tonsils out. They never explained why. It was just something I had to do. To ease my worries, they bribed me with ice cream. But it didn’t stop there. It’s been going on ever since.
In my old age, I’ve gotten a little wiser. When the doctor says we want to take a look at you, a little red light goes off. And I feel like disappearing into some pre-arranged hide-out that would have suited the likes of Jesse James.
As soon as they start pursuing that kind of talk, I am already into my personal inventory of remaining parts and pieces and I start doing probabilities as to what they are after now. If I ever left it up to them, there would be nothing left of me. They would be going over in their own minds the value of my parts.
“Hmmm, that kidney is probably good for a garage.” Stuff like that. No, I don’t trust the motives of my doctors today; not that they’re any worse than any other doctors I’ve used in the past. But most of them are dead now. I guess if they were really good doctors, they wouldn’t be dead now. Isn’t that the acid test. I mean if you are a health food nut, the acid test would be how athletic you are and how young you look. But if you’re a doctor and you died young, well, you know what I mean. It doesn’t look so good.

I start to do an inventory immediately of all the pieces left and wonder what they have their eyes on now. And unless I am dying, I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter what, I want to keep what’s left. So now my inclination is to just bolt. “See you later, doc…” something like that.

Now, I’m taking all of these supplements and bee pollen and stuff like that to flush out my liver, increase my metabolism, reduce my blood pressure and everything else. And despite the fact that I spend a good part of the morning taking pills, at least I feel that I am not surrendering any more precious parts.

Hey, let the young folks play that game. I can’t afford to lose anything else and that’s my attitude these days. Whatever is mine, stay’s mine. And that’s the way I like it. For you younger folks, with lot’s of parts to trade or use any way you see fit, I suggest you do whatever makes you feel good. Sorry, it’s time for my vitamin cocktail. See you at the health club.

Les Aaron
The Hubmaster