Author: wellthy

This August has been quite a month.  Two weeks ago, Renee and I drove to northern Virginia to celebrate my niece’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah.  On the way there, we stopped in Richmond to see old friends.  On the way back, we stopped in Norfolk to see my 95- and 98-year-old uncles and my sister -in-law.  My sister-in-law did not look good and I suspected that her death was imminent. She was miserable, living with chronic, unrelenting pain. I hate when I’m right!  I also hate to see anyone suffer like Chrissy was suffering.

Shortly after returning to our home in North Carolina, we received the call.  Chrissy had died soon after being admitted to hospice.  So, we packed up our loaner car (mine is in the body shop since Renee was rear-ended) and headed back to Virginia Beach.

So, why was Chrissy suffering with intractable pain?  The diagnosis of intractable pain is easy.  Finding the cause is not so easy.  There are many causes of pain.  Unfortunately, if there is no apparent cause, doctors and family members are quick to assume that the pain is either not real or that the person suffering with the pain is just being dramatic. 

Doctors often take a cynical approach to pain patients, having dealt with drug seekers throughout their careers.  Personally, despite the fact that I had seen a large number of drug seekers throughout my career, I always chose to believe my patients and treat their pain until either the drug seeker slipped up and revealed themselves or I found the underlying cause of the pain.  First, let me explain, psychological pain is just as real as physical pain.  That being said, if you pay careful attention to your patient, the drug seeker will always have a tell.

Patient “X” is a 45-year-old male supposedly hurt on his job.  He walks painfully and slowly to the exam room.  He has pain on all movements of his body, especially worse on taking off his shoes, socks and pants.  Every place I touch him and every time I move his legs and back, he winces in pain.  His reflexes are exaggerated.  I validate his pain and ask him to dress.  I watch as I write my note.  He dresses swiftly without any signs of pain.  He sits with ease and waits for his prescription.  When I tell him to take Tylenol and schedule a plain x-ray of his back, he gets angry and leaves.  I follow him to the front and watch him slide into the driver’s seat of his Camaro.

He is the fourth back pain that week. I look for and find the chalk mark on the front of my office.  While I found four drug seekers, I missed one.  The one I missed marked the wall with chalk alerting his/her friends to the fact that I prescribed a potent pain pill for his/her bogus pain.  Yep, they literally “marked” me if I let one slip through my defenses.

In addition to the curse of drug seekers who fake injury to get narcotics, there is currently a government driven war on docs who prescribed pain pills.  The poor patient with real pain suffers as docs are threatened by their government and challenged by fakers.  Most docs I know refer patients with chronic pain to pain specialist who are often inundated with referrals and take months to get seen.

So, what do you do when you are at the end of your rope, the pain is truly debilitating, and life is slipping away?  One of the tools I used was hospice.  Patients and docs alike often believe that hospice is only for patients dying from cancer and that death is imminent.  I found that hospice was available to anyone with a terminal diagnosis and who was expected to die within 6 months of starting hospice.  Hospice helps make patients comfortable and improves quality of life by offering services not routinely covered by Medicare.  I have had patients on hospice for as long as 2 years. 

Here’s your joke for the day:

A married couple is lying in bed.

The wife leans over and says, “I want you to say dirty things before we start”. So, the man starts to caress her neck and whispers to her, “Living room, Bathroom, Kitchen”.

With the help of my gardener guru, I planted my fall garden yesterday with mixed emotions.  On the one hand, sewing seeds for fall and winter vegetables signals the end of summer.  Summer has always been my favorite season, allowing me to bask in the sun and swim.  This past summer was highlighted by driving with the top down from doctor’s office to doctor’s office and going to my Rock Steady classes.  Believe it or not, most days it was too hot to swim.

On the other hand, planting a fall/winter garden is a new and exciting experience as it signals the coming of a mild southern winter.  While I loved living in Long Grove, I hated the grey sky of the Midwest fall and the arrival of winter snow.  This winter, I’ll have plenty of sunlight and no snow.  I expect to drive, top down, year-round.

I’m working on maintaining an “attitude of gratitude” despite the fact that I hate retirement.  Yes, I enjoy gardening and driving with the top down, but those activities only take a fraction of the time I have daily.  While seeing my docs takes up a significant amount of time, it is depressing. 

As a practicing doc, I never realized how depressing retirement could be.  I never realized how long a day could be.  I also never realized how hard following my advice could be.  I envisioned retirement as a glorious time when you could do whatever you wanted.  I never envisioned retiring to chronic illness where the only thing I really want to do is walk normally.

Yes, I’m depressed.  I can’t put the top down and go for a ride.  Someone forgot to break and smashed the back of my car.  Renee was driving and she has a mild whiplash.  Hopefully, Renee and the car will return to their pre-accident conditions soon.  While I have resisted taking more pills, I may need an anti-depressant for a while.

Getting my emotions onto paper has been my best therapy in the past, so I expect that I’ll return to daily publications for a while. I’ll work hard on being upbeat and am sure I’ll find my way out of my current state. 

Here’s the joke for today:

I was sitting on my own in a restaurant when I saw a beautiful woman at another table. I sent her a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu. She sent me a note: “I will not touch a drop of this wine unless you can assure me that you have seven inches in your pants.” So, I wrote back: “Give me the wine. As gorgeous as you are, I’m not cutting off three inches for anyone.”

My neighbor threw a block party last night and it was great.  Renee and I really lucked out when we moved here.  As we left to go home, one of our hosts, Barbara Peters, offered us copies of her new books.  I started reading “He Said, She Said” this morning; and, while I hate reading, I am enjoying her book.

Barbara’s book is all about relationships and the “seven keys to relationship success”.  Chapter One is about communications; and, as expected, the author is an expert at communicating her ideas in a simple to understand format. If the rest of the book is as good as Chapter One, this book will be a must read.

In Chapter One, the author quotes an unknown source:

“Watch your thoughts, for they become words.

Watch your words, for they become actions.

Watch your actions, for they become habits.

Watch your habits, for they become character.

Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.”

If these five statements were the only wisdom derived from this book by its reader, the reader would walk away enriched and buying the book would have been well worth the cost. So, I’m going to ignore the rest of the book’s contents for now and focus on the above five lines.

In my day, thoughts became words and words took time to travel.  Because there was a significant time lapse between the formation of words from thoughts and the subsequent dissemination of those words, the action caused by those words took longer to occur. Words could be rethought and deleted or changed, and actions could be tempered or stopped.

In today’s world, thoughts become words which lead to action in the blink of an eye. They travel along the internet at warp speed, perpetuating themselves into habits and forming one’s internet character and, I dare say, destiny.  

When I was in school, there was this theoretical “permanent record” in which everything you did was recorded.  Your permanent record could make or break you.  It was like Santa’s list of who was naughty or nice.  It, like Santa, was not real.

Unfortunately, fiction often becomes reality; and the internet has become your permanent record and realistically can determine your destiny.  It is imperative that we teach our children and grandchildren to watch their thoughts carefully so that, if they become words, they are righteous words, words that they can be proud of. In 2021, words published on the internet are eternal and may lead to harmful, unforeseen actions later in life.

One last thought. In olden times, people judged your character based on your interactions with them.  In 2021, people who don’t know you, have never met you and probably will never interact with you on a personal basis will judge your character based solely on your internet presence.  Like your words, your internet character will be irrefutable, carved in stone.

So, today’s lesson is to carefully watch your thoughts, validate them and then share them in person with those you trust before they turn to words or actions. 

Today’s joke follows:

If I ever win the lottery, I’ll give some of the money to charity.

And, if she isn’t dancing that night, I’ll give some to Destiny.

I’m hungry!  I know I have to survive the hunger that comes with a drastic drop in caloric intake.  I will survive the hunger.  It’s just unfair!  On days when I have Rock Steady or doctor’s appointments, the hunger is so bad.  Yesterday, I took Renee to the doc and skipped lunch altogether.  Part of the solution is staying busy.

Staying busy is not so easy.  Today is not a swimming day.  It’s 73 and rainy.  When you’re 70 and handicapped, finding something to do can be tricky.  Shopping is out of the question as there is nothing I need.  My hobbies are cooking, eating and writing.  When you’re 50 pounds over your ideal weight, cooking and eating is counterproductive.

Writing keeps me busy; but, over the last 30-40 years, I written about everything.  I have the severe form of writer’s block.  I call it Writer’s Constipation!  I know I have more words inside; I just can’t push them out. Even though I’m writing this, I’m still hungry.  Yesterday, Erin turned me on to Hearts of Palm noodles. I spent 1 hour looking for them in the store and unfortunately bought a lot of food I didn’t need.  Back to the Palm noodles; they are filling. A whole can is only 60 calories.  Unfortunately, they don’t taste great unless you cover them with a fattening sauce.

Daily Harvest tastes great.  Some of the dishes are filling as well; but it’s like eating Chinese food, your hunger returns quickly.  So, I guess the answer is getting used to the hunger and hiding in the bedroom to avoid the call of the refrigerator.  Right now, I can hear my fridge calling me. “Hey Stew, I’ve got some flatbread and pastrami for you.  Come and get it!”

Hiding from your own refrigerator is childish and sad.  I going to say bye for today and hide!

Here’s your joke of the day:

Every morning, the CEO of a large bank in Manhattan walks to the corner for a shoeshine.  He sits in an armchair, examines the Wall Street Journal and the shoe shiner buffs his shoes to a mirror shine.

One morning the shoe shiner asks the CEO: “What do you think about the situation in the stock market?”

The man answered arrogantly, “Why are you so interested in that topic?”

The shoe guy replies, “I have millions in your bank,” he says, “and I’m considering investing some of the money in the capital market.”

“What’s your name? ” asked the executive.

John H. Smith was the reply.

The CEO arrives at the bank and asked the Manager of the Customer Department: Do we have a client named John H. Smith? “Certainly,” answers the Customer Service Manager, “He is a high net worth customer with 12.6 million dollars in his account.”

The executive comes out, approaches the shoe shiner, and says, “Mr. Smith, I would like to invite you next Monday to be the guest of honor at our board meeting and tell us the story of your life.  I am sure we could learn something from your life’s experience.”

At the board meeting, the CEO introduces him to the board members.

We all know Mr. Smith, from the corner shoeshine stand, but Mr. Smith is also an esteemed customer.  I invited him here to tell us the story of his life.  I am sure we can learn from him.

Mr. Smith began his story.

“I came to this country fifty years ago as a young immigrant from Europe with an unpronounceable name.  I got off the ship without a penny. The first thing I did was change my name to Smith. I was hungry and exhausted. I started wandering around looking for a job but to no avail. Fortunately, I found a coin on the sidewalk. I bought an apple. I had two options, eat the apple and quench my hunger or start a business. I sold the apple for 25 cents and bought two apples with the money. I also sold them and continued in business. When I started accumulating a few dollars, I was able to buy a set of used brushes and shoe polish and started polishing shoes.

I didn’t spend a penny on entertainment or clothing, I just bought bread and some cheese to survive. I saved penny by penny; and, after a while, I bought a new set of shoe brushes and polishes in different shades and expanded my clientele. I lived like a monk and saved penny by penny.

After a while, I was able to buy an armchair so my clients could sit comfortably while I shined their shoes, and that brought me more clients.  I did not spend a penny on the joys of life. I kept saving every cent.

A few years ago, when the previous shoe shiner on the corner decided to retire, I had already saved enough money to buy his shoeshine location at this great place.

Finally, 6 months ago, my sister, who was a prostitute in Chicago, passed away and left me 12.6 million dollars.”

I could become a vegetarian if it wasn’t for the fact that I love meat.  I could lose weight if only I could exercise.  I wouldn’t be hungry if I could burn enough calories to account for the food intake I need not to be hungry.  Could is a great word.  “Could” offers lots of promise yet delivers very little.

I’ve written about three words in the past.  “Could have, would have, and should have” is a mantra that many learn at an early age.  It’s also a mantra that needs to be eradicated.  While “could have” offers promise, “would have” offers feelings of depression and “should have” is associated with guilt.

I could be much healthier if I hadn’t gained 50 pounds. I would have lost 50 pounds had I not been on the pity wagon; and I should have listened to my dear friend and diet consultant, Betsy Weisbach, a long time ago.

Finally, I’ve gotten off the pity wagon and replaced the “would have, could have, should haves” with my new mantra, “must have” 50 pounds of weight loss, the ability to exercise, and enjoy life.  Betsy has been offering to assist me by having me log what I eat and reviewing it with me weekly.  Having someone to be responsible to is helpful in accomplishing any task.

Step number one, logging and monitoring my intake, is set and ready to go.  Step number two is getting rid of my excess baggage.  Step number two is to recreate the Stewart diet by defining what the Stewart diet currently is and refining it so that it is healthy, calorie deficient, and something I can live on for a very long time.  Losing 50 pounds will take a year!

A long time ago, I bought a week’s worth of food from Daily Harvest.  The food was plant-based, healthy and tasted great.  The food was expensive and I’m cheap; so I did not reorder.  Last week, looking to make a clean break from my present diet and looking for a firm platform for my new lifestyle and diet, I ordered 24 meals.  Each meal contains between 300-400 calories and tastes great.  The bonus is that they are also filling!

I started on my Daily Harvest-based New Stewart Diet and am happy to report that I can do this!  I can convert to a vegetarian-based meal plan with the addition of an occasional meat-based dinner and lose my 50 pounds while enjoying what I’m eating and staying within the parameters of my personal philosophy, as outlined in “Diets and Other Unnatural Acts.”

Thanks, Betsy, for your support.  You’ll be getting my first log in 4 days. 

Should you want to try DH, use this code RE-7HRT6GR to save $35 on your first order.

Here’re your jokes for the day:

Preventing childhood obesity…

It’s as easy as taking candy from a baby.

A woman is suicidally depressed

She’s quite obese, unattractive, and lonely. Life having dealt her a bad hand, she buys a pistol and resolves to end her own life.

Wanting it to be quick, she calls her doctor to ask him where the heart is.

“It’s right under the left breast”, he replies.

So, she hangs up, takes a deep breath and shoots herself in the knee. 

Sometimes, I amaze myself!  I’m getting over a nasty cold.  The cough is gone but I’m still troubled by body aches and fatigue.  Frankly, I felt like staying in bed and sleeping all day!  Did you ever feel that way?

I used to advise that my patients return to exercise as soon as possible when recovering from an illness.  I counseled my chronic fatigue patients, teaching them that the answer to their fatigue was exercise.  My patients did not believe me.  When your body is tired, wasted by disease, the last thing you want to do is exercise.

Yesterday, I did not want to go to Rock Steady, my Parkinson’s exercise class.  I was convinced that if I exercised, I would collapse.  I dressed to go but then told Renee I wasn’t going.  Fifteen minutes later, I left the house and headed for the gym.  When I got to the gym, I could barely walk in.  I was in agony!

I told my instructors I would do whatever I could do.  I warmed up, stretched, crawled a lap around the gym and, miracle of miracles, started to feel better.  Yep, it makes no sense.  Putting my socks on exhausts me to the extent that Renee has to put them on for me, yet 75 minutes performing my Rock Steady routine invigorates me.  Go figure!

One thing is for sure.  The advice I gave my patients over the years was good.  The treatment for fatigue is exercise.  Why it took me so many years to take my own advice is beyond me.  I’m just thankful I finally decided to join Rock Steady.  Now, to lose the weight that is weighing me down.  Stay tuned.

Here’s your joke for the day:

A beautiful college professor reminds her students of the big test tomorrow.

She says, “You cannot be absent unless you are wounded, seriously ill or you have a sudden death in the family.” One boy asks, “But what about extreme fatigue from a hot night of sex?” When the class is done laughing, the professor smiles and says,

“In that case, you can write with your other hand.”

Regret is a harmful emotion. Regrets are best avoided. It’s one thing to regret buying a stock that plummets; it’s another to regret that you ever smoked because your chest x-ray shows a large tumor. 

People often don’t appreciate what they have until they’ve lost it. When you’ve lost your health, you will regret its loss for the rest of your (shortened) life. Not long ago, I wrote about non-compliance. Imagine that you were supposed to take your medication every day. Your doc prescribed the medicine because, without it, you would be at risk of having a heart attack. Imagine you decide that medications are expensive, bad for you, and that you are going to use all “natural” over the counter pills to treat yourself. 

Now, imagine you wake up in the coronary intensive care unit. Your doctor tells you that you suffered a cardiac arrest (died). You try to ask him a question but gibberish comes out. The doc explains that you are stable; but you were without oxygen for too long and you have suffered hypoxic brain damage. You’ve had a stroke. You realize you can’t move your right hand and leg. You’re alive, and, for the first time in your life, you understand what being healthy was all about. 

You understand that you may never walk, work, drive, or even make love again. You understand that you will have to take medications, go to rehab, have full time help, and learn to live a new life. You understand that you should have never stopped your medication. You will regret that decision for a very long time. 

Every day, doctors plead with patients to take their medications, get their colonoscopies/stress tests/ x-ray, done. They plead with them to stop smoking and drinking. They ask them to give up cholesterol, sugar, and other goodies so that they can be healthier. I write articles (over 1400) aimed at helping them understand how important their health is. 

Every day, my patients tell me they are going to try to care for themselves. I hate the word “Try”. To me, try implies failure. I ask them to work at being healthy. I explain that the stakes are high, often to no avail. You don’t know what you have until you lose it. A healthy person cannot imagine what it is like to lose his health. A healthy person cannot imagine how much “regrets” hurt! 

Life is full of regrets. Do everything within your power to be healthy. Live a “wellthy” life by investing in your physical, nutritional, emotional and financial wellbeing with the same fervor as you invest in your financial health. Work with your doctor. Learn all you can learn. Follow your doc’s instructions. Don’t fall for the hype of the “all natural” nutraceuticals world. If you don’t believe you need a treatment or a test, discuss it with your doctor. 

Staying out of trouble is much better than getting out of trouble. Remember my favorite blessing, “May you be so blessed as to never know what disease you prevented.” Be “Wellthy” and live a long life without regrets.

Here’s your joke of the day:

What’s 6 inches long, 2 inches wide and drives women wild?

A $100 bill! 

I don’t know about you but I have heard so much about the risks of catching Covid-19 that I had forgotten how bad a summer time cold can be.  This was my favorite time of the year!  Kids would go back to school and come home with an assortment of cold symptoms from a vast supply of viruses that inhabit schools and daycare facilities.  Naturally, the first thing the sick kid does when he gets sick is give it to his parents, grandparents and siblings.  Households with lots of children often stayed ill until spring, with each child passing the germ on before running its course.  The common cold paid my bills and kept me busy caring for kids.

When I practiced medicine, my immune system was the equivalent of the Navy’s Top Gun unit.   It was always patrolling my borders, turning back or eradicating intruders.  Now I’m a sickly old man and my defenses are like the southern border of the US.  My cough keeps me awake all night and muscle and joint aches make sure I’m miserable.

I waited 5 days before calling my doc.  Like so many of my patients, I asked for an antibiotic even though I know that my cold is most probably caused by a virus and viruses do not respond to antibiotics.  I got a 3-day Z-pak prescription which I just finished.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be helping.

I am amazed at how fast I transitioned from being a well-trained doc who practiced evidence-based medicine to an ordinary patient driven by wishful thinking and voodoo.  I don’t know whether to thank my doc for giving me a trial on antibiotics or to find a new doc who won’t stray from the scientific path we are supposed to follow.

As doc/patient, I will do one thing differently in the future.  I will mask whenever I’m around sick people.  If I had worn that hated N95 mask around my sick grandchildren over my birthday weekend, perhaps I would have evaded this bug.  I would have been uncomfortable but not nearly as sick as I am now.  I hate being sick! However, I knew I’d catch the kids cold and being together with my entire family was worth it. I just would have been a little smarter in mask wearing.

As we enter cold and flu season, prevention is going to be the name of the game.  Get adequate rest, take zinc, eat well, and consider using a mask.  Remember to get your flu shot as well.

Here’s your joke for the day:

Got home to find my wife had left a note on the fridge that said, “This isn’t working; I’m going to my mum’s.”

I opened up the fridge. The light was on and the beer was cold. I’m not sure what she was talking about.

I turned 70 on the 19^th and had a phenomenal weekend with my whole family.  We all met in Marietta, Georgia at my son’s house.  Once again, I ate too much and drank too much.  It’s back to my diet today and to Rock Steady next week. Today’s article is going to focus on wearing masks and getting vaccinated.

First, I GET IT! I spent the last 45 years wearing surgical masks and hated them.  Every time I had to mask, I put one on even though they were uncomfortable.  During my surgical training, I wore masks all day long.  They irritated my skin and assaulted my sense of smell; and, on occasion, I felt like they were cutting off my air supply.

I wore masks when I was sick.  I wore masks when my patients were sick.  I wore masks during the flu season.  I dressed in gowns, gloves, and masks when I made rounds on an infectious disease patient.  I made it to 70 years old by taking the appropriate precautions even though I hated masks.

I DON’T GET WHY SO MANY PEOPLE REFUSE TO PUT ON MASKS AND GET VACCINATED AGAINST COVID.  You may believe that Covid-19 is not real.  If I’m wrong and Covid-19 is a hoax, then a lot of people are dying from nothing; and statistics suggest that wearing a mask and getting vaccinated will prevent you from dying from “nothing.”

The number of cases of Covid-19 are rising again.  The number of deaths will rise as well.  I’ve had Covid-19 and the Pfizer vaccine.  I’m going back to masking.  I’d rather wear a mask than get Covid-19 again.  When a booster becomes available, I’ll take that as well. 

I’m starting to ask acquaintances if they been vaccinated and will stay away from those individuals who choose to refuse vaccination.  They have the right to get sick and even die but they do not have the right to contaminate me and my family.  I will forever regret giving Covid-19 to my dearest friends.  I was cocky and thought that I was trained well enough as to not catch Covid-19.  After all, in 45 years of practicing medicine, I had never caught an infectious disease from a patient.  Boy, was I wrong!  I’m not so cocky now.

Don’t be so self-assured that you miss your chance to prevent Covid from assaulting you and your family.  Put a mask on and get vaccinated.  Remember, the life you save may be your own.

Here’s your joke for the day:

I got pulled over by the police …

He came to the window and said papers …

I said – scissors, I win – and drove off He must be desperate for a rematch as he’s been ch

When I was in Cub Scouts, an old lady (she was probably 30) walked up to me and said, “You must be Mike Segal’s son.  You look just like him.”  Over the years, I heard that statement multiple times.   I can tell you, for certain, that I’m Mike’s Segal’s son!  The longer I live, the more I think I’m reliving his life. 

When I look in the mirror, I see my dad’s face.  My hands are his hands.  My chronic cough and hocking up phlegm are identical to my dad’s.  My pessimism and negativism are Mike’s.  It’s freaky and it’s sad.  My dad’s end was nasty.

I’m going to have more surgery; and, at my age, in my condition, the risk of surgery is magnified.  My mother refused to let my father die.  Every time he tried, she had the docs pull him back from the other side.  Renee and the children know that their duty will be to let me go when the Parkinson’s worsens, if I get dementia, or if I lose the ability to enjoy life. I know it hurts them to hear me say that, but I have no choice.  On average, most of my patients held on to life so long that their lives were miserable.  Their family’s lives were miserable as well, even though they wouldn’t admit it.

In the end, we all die.  Often, wives and children would express shame at feeling relief after the death of their loved one.  I would remind them of the love and care they showed for their father/husband and explain that the relief they felt was because their loved one no longer suffered.  In reality, part of their relief was because their suffering was at an end, ready to be replaced with a different kind of misery.

I can not remember the details of the good times I had with my father as the end lasted so very long and left so much misery.  I can only hope that my family will be spared the worst and be able to remember Fourth of July by the pool.  Seeing what Renee is going through as she takes care of me has changed my perception of my mother, as well.

My mother was left in Norfolk to care for my dad on her own.  I can only imagine how hard that must have been.  Her children and grandchildren lived away and trips home were short and hectic.  She was tough and made a life for herself despite my being in Illinois and my brother in Tennessee. I judged her harshly at times and I regret that. 

The moral of this story is to be careful not to live too long.  Secondarily, your elders need your support as they move closer to the end.  Do not judge them as you may be destined to become them.  Instead, spend as much good time with them as you can rather than standing at graveside regretting the many missed opportunities to make a good memory to overshadow the bad ones.

Now, for my Theory of Relativity.  That old lady who identified me as Mike’s son was probable 30.  Thirty was definitely old at that point in my life.  Later on, thirty was hot, the marrying age.  At fifty, 30 was still hot but starting to look a little too young.  At sixty, 30 was my daughter’s age and taboo.  At 70, eighty-year-olds are starting to look hot. You can stare at them as long as you want, neither of you will remember. Honestly, at seventy, you can peek at 30-year-olds just long enough to realize you need a nap.  There you have it, my theory of relativity based on age.

Here’s your joke:

I was reading an article last night about fathers and sons, and memories came flooding back of the time I took my son out for his first drink.

Off we went to our local bar, which is only two blocks from the house.

I got him a Miller Genuine. He didn’t like it – so I drank it.

Then I got him a Fosters, he didn’t like it either, so I drank it.

It was the same with the Coors and the Bud.

By the time we got down to the Irish whiskey,

I could hardly push the stroller back home.