I have suffered from the insidious disease called diabetes for twenty-five years.
My primary care physician, Dr. Zorba Soranus, has warned me of the damage caused by this sickness of the blood sugar.
I like his nurse. When she tells me my blood pressure is high, I tell her my blood pressure goes up around beautiful women.
I have a specialist, Dr. Lucy Hocktooie. She is my endocrinologist.
She likes to put her fingers around my neck and say, “I’m going to strangle you if you don’t diet, exercise, and take your insulin shots.”
She is a good-looking specialist, so I never miss my appointments.
She says, “I could order a brain transplant.”
I tell her, “They can’t find a brain to match mine.”
Then there is my eye doctor, Dr. Ed Aidaturd. He shot the retina in my right eyeball with a laser beam. He said one misfire could cause brain cell damage. I told him to be careful–I only have six brain cells left.
Finally, there is Dr. K. Y. Gelly, my kidney doctor. His prediction that I would suffer a heart attack and stroke nearly came true after I looked at his bill.
My team of doctors rarely communicate with each other.
If my heart or brain shuts down, that’s enough! I’m going to sail to Tahiti with an all-girl crew, and live on Fritos, whiskey, and chocolates.