Apr 17, 2015 3 min read

I went to the hospital this week. I was having an outpatient procedure. My doctor wanted to take a small camera on a “Fantastic Voyage” through my body. It had to travel from a vein in my right wrist all the way to my heart. I’m impressed because I couldn’t even get a coat hanger through the crack in the window down to my door lock to open the car door that time I locked my keys in the Honda.

On Tuesday morning, I showed up at the hospital. The first thing I learned is that I have a $2,000 deductible. Yikes, sweetie, yikes! I immediately thought about that Jack Benny bit: A robber pulls a gun on him and says, “Your money or your life!” Benny calmly replies, “I’m thinking it over.”

I begrudgingly wrote the check. As luck would have it, I happened to have $2,000 in my checking account. Color me grateful. It was payday, and I have direct deposit. A fortuitous turn of events … especially for them.

Then, they took my blood pressure. The nurse said, “Your blood pressure is up.” I said, “That’s because I just wrote a check for two thousand dollars!” She didn’t laugh. I can handle paying a bill, but I can’t handle someone staring blankly when I crack a joke. I’m now grateful I don’t have to watch you people read this column.

Honestly, they should have asked me for the money after the procedure. Of course my blood pressure is going to spike. It probably spikes when I buy a ticket to the movies.

Apparently, they called me the day before to tell me about the money, but I didn’t answer the phone because I didn’t recognize the number. I don’t answer randoms.

To prep me for surgery, two different nurses shaved my chest, wrist and legs in a few spots, including my groin. Not that many people see my groin at the same time. It should have been more fun.

My chest had small circles shaved on it for the thing-a-ma-jigs on the end of the EKG. My chest looks like a hillbilly lawn that had five baby pools on it; blank circular areas surrounded by the thicket of unmown vastness. The only thing missing was a Chevy up on blocks on my belly.

I was told I was given something to make me relax, but I was awake the whole time. I watched my vitals on a television monitor big enough to watch the Super Bowl on. I would rather have been knocked out. I prefer to not think about my innards. People always say, “Beauty is only skin deep,” because without your skin you’re gruesome looking.

Afterward, my doctor told me that there was nothing to significantly worry about. He just had to check under the hood. I was grateful, but that tiny miser who lives deep inside of me was going, “Yeah, now that they have your money. Sure.”

I had to suppress that stingy jerk. Frankly, I would have paid $200,000 for the good news.

Let’s just not tell the hospital that.