One more year

We cull our cows most every fall,
There are times you nearly bawl.
When your best cow, you were hopin’
To have a bull, comes in open.
Should I keep her or should I sell,
What else is wrong I’m here to tell.
Because she’s open, she has to go,
But there are times I’d like to know:
If the lump on the jaw, or just a bad eye,
Can’t I give her one more try?
So I thought about, if it were me,
Would I see things so differently?
Because I wear glasses so that I can see,
And I have a brace on my right knee.
I take Flomax so that I can pee,
And a big blue pill for my ED.
I have hearing aids so that I can hear,
That only work if you are near.
My heart has had a three bypass,
And my colonoscopies were a gas.
Doc cleaned up spurs on my left shoulder,
He said he’d do the right when I’m older. 
Doc’s worked on my right thumb’s grip,
So when I pick up a glass, it won’t slip.
I’ve had hernia surgery, both left and right,
And I still get up six times at night.
I have the shakes and they’re the one’s,
The Doc says comes with Parkinson’s.
He ran some tests and was satisfied,
My Parkinson’s was caused by a pesticide.
There are times when there’s lots of stress,
I’m a worrier, so I am a mess.
I take a pill so I don’t get gout,
Indigestion is what it’s all about.
I went to the Doctor, two times in a row,
And I was just praying for a status quo.
But the Doctor said on my update,
I now have cancer, in my prostate.
Being concerned, I asked my wife,
How much longer can she take the strife?
She said if I kept the dishes done,
And trash in the barrel and shells in the gun,
Keep the lawn mowed and gas in the car,
And keep my hands out of the cookie jar.
I need to make sure that the cows are fed,
The fences fixed and paint on the shed,
The hay is put up and the barn is clean,
If I do all that, she won’t be mean.
But the very first time she wipes my rear,
She’s loading me up and I’m out of here.
It’s off to town to the nursing home,
One with locks so I can’t roam.
So, 493, I think your eye will be fine;
Your lump might be an old piece of twine.
And 493, though our time maybe near,
I think we’ll both try, for one more year.

Written by John M. Koltiska