You're Not Dead Yet

I went to the doctor, and he had this to say:
your aches and pains are ordinary
nothing extraordinary
for a lady of your age.
Whatever hurts, it's just arthritis in that joint.
Well, I thought it idle chatter
as he went on with his patter,
but then he said "gall bladder!"
And when I nearly swooned,
believing I was doomed,
he took away my breath
and sank me to the depth,
reminding me I'd gained a little weight
  —great!—
and then he seemed to laugh it off:

My doctor told me the same old story.
A gory story. He said,
Your back is broken,
your nose is out of joint,
your face is like a roadmap to the past.
But your problem didn't start today.
It started yesterday.
It's rheumatism, rheumatism,
everyone gets rheumatism,
some at the beginning, some along the way.

You're haywired, your joints are tired.
You probably thought you'd live forever
whatever the size of the the hole in your gut
and I see spots on your liver.
And then he seemed to laugh it off:

It's just a minor hitch, it's just a little glitch.
I'm sure you'll live forever and a day.
You won't be meeting death
till you take your last breath.
Start counting the years while you may.

Start counting the years while you may—ha ha!
Start counting the years while you can—ho ho!
Start counting the years if you dare—get a life!
Start counting, start counting, take a number,
get in line, no pushing, no complaining,
no regrets, no postponement,
no exceptions, no atonement.

And it's good to have a giggle
when your joints begin to jiggle.
When finally you have to go,
when finally you meet the Force,
exit with a smile and say
you've got to see a man about a horse.