Silly, totally un-PC gag, but it made me laugh

The phone rings and the lady of the house answers.

"Hello."

"Mrs. Ward, please."

"Speaking"

"Mrs. Ward, this is Doctor Jones at the Medical Testing Laboratory. When your doctor sent your husband's biopsy to the lab yesterday, a biopsy from another Mr. Ward arrived as well, and we're now uncertain which one is your husband's. Frankly the results are either bad or terrible."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Ward asks nervously.

"Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's,and the other one tested positive for AIDS. We can't tell which specimen is your husband's."

"That's dreadful! Can't you do the test again?" questioned Mrs. Ward.

"Normally we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time."

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?"

"The people at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him."

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With all due apologies to sufferers of both AIDS and Alzheimer's - who, if they are anything like the cancer warriors I know - will see the funny side of this just as we cancer warriors do with equivalent gags.

Hysterics at today's poke and peek...

Having had a bit of time off where the bladder cancer is concerned, today I attended a routine "poke and peek" (a.k.a. a flexible cystoscopy) at the Treatment Centre of our local hospital here in the UK.

I was greeted by my now good friend and consultant/specialist Mr A and was invited to lie down on the table in preparation for the procedure.

"Have you had a flexible cystoscopy before?" asked the nurse, whom I had never met.

"Yep, many times," I replied.

"Well," she continued, "please would you get into the correct position?"

This, as bladder cancer warriors will know, means on your back with legs akimbo.

"Oh," I replied, "you mean like they say in American police dramas when they arrest someone ... 'spread 'em?"

Now, I have to confess that I did dramatise that sentence in the way that most writers-cum-closet-actors do, and this would appear to have been effective.

The nurse concerned got a fit of the giggles that went on for many long minutes, and held up my procedure quite noticeably.

Happily the other staff in the procedure room - including my lovely, lovely Mr. A - were laughing so hard that the delay didn't matter.

Here I must offer my apologies to our UK National Health Service for wasting doctors' and nurses' time ... but hey. It was worth it.

And the outcome? A possible recur, maybe yes, maybe no, but at least I can keep my bladder until January 2009 - hey, that's better than the alternative.