“Yes,” said the sufferer faintly.
“Who is it?”
“Another doctor.”—Judge.
“Doctor, I want you to look after my office while I’m on my vacation.”
“But I’ve just graduated, doctor. Have had no experience.” “That’s all right, my boy. My practice is strictly fashionable. Tell the men to play golf and ship the lady patients off to Europe.”
An old darky once lay seriously ill of fever and was treated for a long time by one doctor, and then another doctor, for some reason, came and took the first one’s place. The second physician made a thorough examination of the patient. At the end he said, “Did the other doctor take your temperature?”
“Ah dunno, sah,” the patient answered. “Ah hain’t missed nuthin’ so far but mah watch.”
There had been an epidemic of colds in the town, and one physician who had had scarcely any sleep for two days called upon a patient—an Irishman—who was suffering from pneumonia, and as he leaned over to hear the patient’s respiration he called upon Pat to count.
The doctor was so fatigued that he fell asleep, with his ear on the sick man’s chest. It seemed but a minute when he suddenly awoke to hear Pat still counting: “Tin thousand an’ sivinty-six, tin thousand an’ sivinty-sivin—”
FIRST DOCTOR—“I operated on him for appendicitis.”
SECOND DOCTOR—“What was the matter with him?”—Life.
FUSSY LADY PATIENT—“I was suffering so much, doctor, that I wanted to die.”
DOCTOR—“You did right to call me in, dear lady.”
MEDICAL STUDENT—“What did you operate on that man for?”
EMINENT SURGEON—“Two hundred dollars.”
MEDICAL STUDENT—“I mean what did he have?”
EMINENT SURGEON—“Two hundred dollars.”
The three degrees in medical treatment—Positive, ill; comparative, pill; superlative, bill.
“What caused the coolness between you and that young doctor? I thought you were engaged.”
“His writing is rather illegible. He sent me a note calling for 10,000 kisses.”
“Well?”
“I thought it was a prescription, and took it to the druggist to be filled.”
A tourist while traveling in the north of Scotland, far away from anywhere, exclaimed to one of the natives: “Why, what do you do when any of you are ill? You can never get a doctor.”
“Nae, sir,” replied Sandy. “We’ve jist to dee a naitural death.”
When the physician gives you medicine and tells you to take it, you take it. “Yours not to reason why; yours but to do and die.”
Physicians, of all men, are most happy: whatever good success soever they have, the world proclaimeth; and what faults they commit, the earth covereth.—Quarles.
This is the way that physicians mend or
end us,
Secundum artem: but although we sneer
In health—when ill, we call
them to attend us,
Without the least propensity to jeer.