Diagnosis

Leaving a weekly staph staff meeting, i stood up with a slight flinch, as my vertebrae grudgingly gave in to verticality.  Shuffling out the conference room door, a colleague asked “What is it now?  Bicycles? Horses? Mountain climbing?”

“Well, a bit of this and a bit of that… Rode the motorcycle 60 miles Saturday, and then did a trek on the back of the tandem Sunday.  Still sore from roller skating last week, too.  But i’ve got to get my body loosened up for horseback riding lessons tonight…”

A much younger colleague laughed and said “Oh, you cute, crazy old folks!  Sitting around at the rest home, playing euchre and watching TV!”

Listening to the snap, crackle and pop of my knees as i started up the stairs, i continued “And then next weekend?  Off to Miami for some diving with my sister, and….”

i stopped cold.  Turned and looked at the two of them.

“Oh, shit!  i know what’s wrong!  i’m a tampon commercial!”

A bit reminiscent of the old joke:

Two little boys go into the grocery store. One is eight years old and the other  one is five years old. The eight year old grabs a box of tampons from the shelf and carries it to the register for checkout.

The cashier asks, “Oh, these must be for your mom, huh?”

The eight-year-old replies “Nope, not for my mom.”

Without thinking, the cashier responded “Well, they must be for your sister then?”

The eight year old quickly responded, “Nope, not for my sister either.”

The cashier had now become curious “Oh. Not for your mom and not for your sister? Who are they for?”

The eight year old says, “They’re for my five-year old little brother.”

The cashier is surprised “Your five-year old little brother?”

The eight year old explains: “Well yeah, they say on TV if you wear one of these, you can swim or ride a bike and my little brother can’t do either of them!”