Last night my old friend from 2nd grade, Chris, called to let me know that he was in a Tulsa hospital after nearly dying from a ruptured appendix. Apparently they kept telling him he had an ulcer and sending him home until finally someone did the right diagnosis. Further proof that a hospital is the last place you want to be if you're sick.

Then this morning I was talking to my old friend, Diane, and she was on her way to the clinic with a bunch of suspicious symptoms like nausea and lightheadedness but no fever. She was scared. At our age it could be anything.

Plus, my old friend, Kent, needs to have a hip replacement! He's younger than me, for God's sake (but only by a couple of years). We were with him in Palm Springs over the weekend and he was limping around like Grandpa from The Real McCoys. By Sunday I had developed a sympathy limp.

Today, however, I'm feeling by far the healthiest of my contemporaries.