I Have a Small Disagreement with the Medical Folks
Sam Venable
Department of Irony
This ugly rumor stems from an incident that occurred recently as I was undergoing a medical test.
What kind of medical test? Beats me. I’ve long since lost track.
As every member of Generation G(eezer) knows all too well, medical tests are a thrice-weekly requirement. Eyes, nose, arms, neck, scalp, ears, feet, teeth, fingers, back, ankles, toes, it doesn’t matter. If something hasn’t gone wrong in one department, it soon will — unless preempted by another department.
Oh, and that’s just the external side of the equation. Internal investigations, especially to the south, demand equal opportunity.
Anyhow, a nurse was reviewing the 465-page form I’d filled out in the waiting room. She looked up, stared at me a second, then spoke: “Says here you’re 5 feet, 8 inches tall. Is that correct?”
“Of course it’s correct.” I replied.
She gave me the stink eye.
“I’ve always been 5-8,” I continued. “Says so on my driver’s license, my hunting license, my old military records, a zillion registration forms, medical papers, everything. Why, I bet if you dug up a Young High School football program from the mid-1960s, that’s what it would say about No. 16, running back Venable.”
“How much did that program say you weighed?”
“Uh, well,” my voice began trailing off, “I think 150, maybe 155.”
The nurse smiled triumphantly. “You gonna stick with that now too?”
Touché. Well-played, madam.
Next thing I knew, I was standing sock-footed against the wall. The nurse extended a metal rule attached to the floor and placed the top of it on my thin-haired crown.
“Just as I thought. You’re 5-4.”
“Whaaat?! That can’t be right. Maybe I was slouching. Measure again.”
Another stink eye, but she acquiesced.
I took a deep breath and willed every cell in my body into perfect alignment. She studied the metal rule intently.
“I’ll give you 5-5, and that’s being generous.”
Huh?! I’ve lost three inches of height?! How? When? I sure don’t feel any shorter. My pants aren’t wadding up on top of my shoes. What gives?
Well, yes, stairs do seem to have gotten taller than they used to be. Must be new carpentry guidelines. What’s more, tiny hills I’ve been scampering up for decades have grown at least 15 degrees steeper. But none of that explains this so-called “shrinkage.”
Wait! I know what’s going on! The sneaky government changed measuring standards and didn’t tell anybody! That’s gotta be it!
Me not 5-8? Pfft! Impossible! Why just look at my driver’s license, my hunting license, my old military records, a zillion registration forms, medical papers…
Sam Venable is an author, comedic entertainer, and humor columnist for the Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. His latest book is “The Joke’s on YOU! (All I Did Was Clean Out My Files).” He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.
Cartoons by Mark Anderson
