As I’ve aged, it seems I spend half my time going to the doctor. Here are some conversations I’ve had.

The other day at the dental office, my hygienist told me I had a beautiful epiglottis. Was he making a pass at me?

At the skin doctor’s office, my doctor asked how long I had that big spot on my face. I told her I was trying to play connect-the-dots and create a picture.

My orthopedic doctor asked how my humorous was. I told him that although I try to be funny all the time, sometimes people don’t appreciate my jokes.

The other day, my eye doctor told me my pupils were large. How did he know I was a teacher?

My podiatrist told me I had too much toe jam. I told him I was doing some extra canning before the long winter ahead.

After my last colonoscopy, my doctor told me that my colitis had cleared up. I told him I was glad to hear that it was finally behind me.

The ear doctor told me that everybody deserves a good hearing. I agreed because I used to be a lawyer, and sometimes people were wrongly convicted.

When I had my last manicure, I told the technician that she really nailed it.

Last week I told my pulmonologist that she was a breath of fresh air.

I couldn’t believe that my hairdresser Harry said that I needed to shave.

My neighbor didn’t like the doctor at his last prostate exam. When he saw his bill, he gave him the finger and said, “Up yours!”