Aren’t you pretty young to be a practicing physician? asked the severe-looking female person sternly.
Well, you see, I only doctor children, said the young medico, nervously.
Doctor, are you sure my husband has pneumonia? I have heard of doctors treating patients for pneumonia who finally died of typhoid fever.
Well, madam, I don’t make such blunders. If I treat a patient for pneumonia, he dies of pneumonia.
Patient—Doctor, it hurts me to breathe. In fact, the only trouble now seems to be with my breath.
Physician—All right. I’ll give you something that will soon stop that.
A young doctor in a country district was called one night by an old farmer to his first case. The patient was the farmer’s son, who was lying on the bed in much pain. The young medico threw out his chest and said: This should cause you no alarm. It is nothing but a corrustified exegesis antispasmodically emanating from the physical refrigerator, producing a prolific source of irritability in the pericranial epidermis.