03/21/2026 from Daily Jokes
#21947
After years of sticking with the same family practice, I finally decided to switch to a new primary care physician—Dr. Mitchell, a highly recommended internist with a reputation for being thorough, direct, and just a little bit sassy.
After two comprehensive visits, a full panel of exhaustive lab tests, a stress test, a bone density scan, and what felt like a personal interview with my lifestyle choices, Dr. Mitchell closed my file, removed his reading glasses, and looked at me with a measured expression.
“Well,” he said, tapping his pen against the chart, “overall, you’re doing… fairly well… for your age.”
Fairly well? Those four words echoed in my mind like a ominous weather forecast. I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of every minor ache I’d been ignoring for years.
A little concerned—and maybe just a touch dramatic—I leaned forward and asked the question that had been nagging at the back of my brain: “Doctor… be honest with me. Do you think I’ll live to be 80?”
Dr. Mitchell paused. He steepled his fingers, gave me a long, thoughtful look—the kind that makes you wonder if you have a secret twin or a hidden allergy to oxygen—and then began his interrogation.
“First question,” he said calmly. “Do you smoke tobacco? Or drink beer, wine, spirits… anything with a buzz?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I replied, sitting up a little straighter, proud of my choices. “I’ve never smoked a day in my life, and I don’t touch alcohol. Never have.”
He nodded, making a small checkmark on his notepad. “Understood. Next: Do you eat rib-eye steaks, barbecued ribs, bacon, burgers… any of that red meat everyone warns about?”
“Nope!” I said, almost cheerfully. “I’ve heard red meat is inflammatory, linked to heart disease, bad for cholesterol—I stick to grilled chicken, fish, and lots of kale. Very healthy.”
Another nod. Another checkmark.
He leaned back, eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you spend a lot of time in the sun? You know—playing golf, sailing, ballooning, rock climbing, beach volleyball… anything that involves UV exposure and potential skin damage?”
“No, sir,” I said, shaking my head. “I wear sunscreen daily, I avoid peak sun hours, and my idea of adventure is a brisk walk in the shade.”
Dr. Mitchell was silent for a beat. Then he asked, voice low and deliberate: “Do you gamble? Drive fast cars? Engage in risky behaviors? Or… sexually fool around?”
I blinked. “No! I’ve never done any of those things. I’m basically a homebody who pays bills on time and watches documentaries about birds.”
The room went quiet. The clock on the wall ticked. A distant phone rang in the hallway.
Dr. Mitchell slowly closed my file, placed it neatly on the edge of his desk, and looked me dead in the eye with the gentle, devastating wisdom of a man who’s heard it all.
“Then… why do you care if you live to be 80?”
