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The yearly pitch for changing insurance carriers has arrived to coax us from one company covering nothing I need (prostate practitioner?) to others whose plan does not include even one of my preferred doctors, especially Dr. Love.

Hopefully I won't have to return to my own physician whose specialty is Recommendology. He doesn't actually treat. He calls everything a virus, which is Latin for "I don't know what the hell you have."

He simply checks his computer and then recommends a colleague from his own original country of origin.

Still, I manage to generally stay healthy; well, except for the fall, which gave me an opportunity to pick up items on the floor that I dropped months ago and could not otherwise bend to retrieve.

Life works out well, don't you think?

Oh, wait. There was the incident of the headache that led to the cast on my arm and the nervous breakdown.

One morning after an extremely festive evening, my head ached. I reached for an aspirin and couldn't open the childproof jar even after pressing down and aligning the arrow as the teeny directions suggested. I fumed and twisted and then accidentally banged my arm against the sink.

Luckily my little granddaughter came by after kindergarten, opened the bottle and then texted (50 words per minute!) and found the nearest emergency room and sent me on my way.

The room was mobbed, so I took a number; 72 to be exact, which gave me time to observe the crowd.

One woman saw her medical form menu of choices and mumbled, "allergies, heart, ear, nose, gums?…and then she sang, "All of Me. Why Not Take All of Me?" We all sympathized and hummed along.

One man who evidently had been waiting a very long time called the receptionist at the desk in the room and asked to speak to the urologist. She said, "Please hold" and he shouted expletives and said if he could hold, he wouldn't be in the emergency room!

I am fed up with my current medical programs. I think I will return to the psychic who said I would meet a tall dark stranger…who would remove my gall bladder.

I hope he and any man is aware of my strict personal dating rules. I never allow a gent to shave my back until the third date. Well, usually anyway.

- Jan Marshall

Jan Marshall has devoted her life's work to humor and healing through books, columns and motivational speaking. As founder of the International Humor & Healing Institute, she worked with board members Norman Cousins, Steve Allen and other physicians and entertainers, including John Cleese. Her newest satirical survival book, Dancin' Schmancin' with the Scars: Finding the Humor No Matter What! is dedicated to Wounded Warriors, Gabrielle Giffords and Grieving Parents. She donates a percentage of the profits to these organizations as well as to the American Cancer Society and the American Brain Tumor Association.