Rose accompanied her husband Tom to his annual checkup. While Tom was getting dressed, the doctor came out and said to Rose, “I don’t like the way he looks.” “Neither do I,” she said. “But he’s handy around the house.”
After the examination the physician handed the patient a prescription and said, “Take this medicine after each meal.” “But, Doc,” confessed the patient, “I have not eaten in four days.” “Fine,” said the doctor. “The medicine will last longer.”
It was the middle of the night. Suddenly there was a loud rapping on the doctor’s door, followed by a groan. The doctor angrily thrust his head out of the window. “WELL?” he shouted.
“No,” moaned the man. “Sick.”
The man lay on the couch telling his psychiatrist a sad tale. “I see my brother, Doctor,” he said. “He is walking down a long corridor, walking up fifteen steps in the green door. There are lots of people standing around. They’re bandaging his eyes – ooh – Doctor, Doctor what does it mean?” “Well,” said the psychiatrist, “if they ain’t playing blind man’s bluff he’s in real trouble.