I went and had a physical the other day.  Next year I’ll be 50 so I figured I’d better take advantage of my last opportunity to get a check up as a virgin.  I don’t think my doctor likes me very much which is another reason I’m not looking forward to my 50^th year annual physical.  A man hopes for a tender touch for his first colonoscopy.  I think the reason my doctor is hostile towards me has something to do my lab work.  He was looking over my results and my blood pressure, resting heart rate, blood sugar and cholesterol were all good.  He sighed and says, you weigh nearly 400 pounds, drink too much, smoke, get no exercise and yet you seem to be in great shape. 

What did he mean no exercise?  Has he ever tried carrying 385 pounds with him wherever he goes?  Just getting out of my recliner or moving between my car and the front door of Dunkin’ Doughnuts can be like an aerobic exercise.  He told me that I need to consider some low impact lifetime sports.  I enjoy golf so I’m considering trying to get in 18 holes of golf a couple of times a week.  The coverage on the golf channel is remarkable. I’m just kidding.  Golf channel coverage is adequate at best.  Don’t worry about me though.  It’s not like I have totally let myself go.  If I ever crack 400 pounds I have committed that at that time I will go on a crash diet.  

I suppose I shouldn’t take my health for granted.  I did get a scare a couple of summers ago.  I woke up one morning and didn’t feel quite right, I felt like my heart was doing an extra beat or something.  As the day wore on it continued and it eventually crossed my mind…are these the early signs of the big one?  So I did what every red blooded American man would do.  I called my wife. “Honey, don’t worry but I think I’m having a heart attack.  What should I do?”  My wife and I have been married for 25 wonderful years so you might imagine how she reacted.  “Honey, I am at work for Christ’s sake.  If you don’t feel well maybe you should call the clinic.  If you are going to be late for dinner call me back.”  Click.

            Sensing the pain and the trauma I had caused her I bee-lined it to the emergency room.  It was hotter than hell that day and by the time I waddled across the parking lot I had built up quite a sweat.  I bounded into the ER looking all clammy and told the triage nurse, “I don’t want you to worry but I think I am having a heart attack.  What should I do?”  At this point all of my preconceptions of a hospital emergency room were blown out the window.  I had anticipated sitting in the waiting room for hours before seeing a doctor.  But I guess when a sweaty fat forties something man enters an ER out of breath and speaks the words heart attack people get busy. 

At first I felt really bad, you know, like when they took me on a gurney through the waiting room full of screaming babies, industrial accident victims and even a guy who was bleeding profusely from his head.  As I was carted by I could see a look of pain and hopelessness in their glossed over eyes.   And then I started thinking, “OH SHIT! Those people look messed up man!  If I deserve to be cut to the front of all those people waiting; I MUST BE DYING!” 

I was freaking out and began to yelling out prayers.  “Forgive me Father for I have sinned!  I don’t want to die!  Forgive me for lying about my weight on my driver’s license.  Forgive me for that time I masturbated… with images of Rosanne Barr in my head, and please forgive me for that time I made change out of the collection plate at church…I didn’t know until later at the bar that those two tens had stuck together…with that twenty… well okay I knew it but I don't think anybody saw me.”  
            It ended up that I had just suffered a little stress and indigestion and was released to go home in less than an hour.  I think God is really a vengeful god because in fact I didn’t die.  I had wished I would have died, however, when I had to walk out after I confessed all of my sins in front of the 100 people waiting in the ER waiting room.