The Dalai Lama said, “We sacrifice our health to make wealth; then we sacrifice our wealth in order to get back our health.”

So, this is how it goes when we reach retirement age.

Joe: Hey Rich, let’s meet for lunch on Tuesday.

Rich: I can’t. Doctor’s appointment at noon.

Joe: How about Wednesday?

Rich: Nope. MRI for my back.

Joe: Thursday?

Rich: Got my nerve test scheduled.

Joe: Any day next week?

Rich: Dentist on Monday. Spine doc Tuesday. I’m good after that.

Joe: Oh, just remembered. I have a colonoscopy Wednesday, Eye doc, Thursday. And my wife wants me to go for blood work Friday for a checkup the following week.

I tell people I have a busy life and I go out a lot. If it weren’t for my doctor visits, I’d be stuck in the house watching the Game Show Network or reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show.”

When I was a kid, I’d get a haircut and when the barber was done, he gave me a lollipop. Now, when I’m done with a doctor, I get a prescription for a medicine refill and another date to put on the calendar for my next visit. Sometimes, I wish I would just get a lollipop.

When I arrive at any of these appointments, I always get the same greeting.

“How are you?” they ask.

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to come here,” I say with a laugh.

Doctors and me are a mix of oil and water. My father died on an operating table when he was having simple surgery. My oldest sister fought her pain through three pharmacies of medicine overdoses that eventually stopped her heart. My other sister was very ill for eight years. She died after a botched back operation sent waves of debilitating infections that no doctor across eight states could cure.

Of course, all that makes me skeptical. I see doctors and I think their prescribed medicines and surgeries are just intelligent solutions of a guessing game they play. “Take this and you should feel better,” says one. “Get the surgery and you should be back to normal in about three weeks,” says another. Instead of saying I should feel better, they might say, “You could feel better” because we are told that anything can go wrong during any surgery.

I’m like a used car that comes with no warranty. My drive train and transmission might leave me disabled every time I leave the house. Doctor, help me, please!

I have a sense of humor about my health and I like to laugh at doctor jokes, mostly from the great comedian Rodney Dangerfield. “My doctor told me to run 5 miles a day for two weeks,” Rodney said. “He called to see how I was doing. I told him I’m 70 miles from my house.”

Another from Rodney. “I called my doctor and said I had diarrhea and he put me on hold.”

How about this one. “I called my doctor and told him I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. He told me to have a few drinks and get some rest. Then he prescribed me more sleeping pills and told me to take them if I wake up.”

One more laugh. “My doctor told me I drink too much. He asked for a urine specimen and there was an olive in it.”

Now, I am no doctor hater. I love and trust my general practitioner, my dentist and my surgeon, who performed pinched nerve on my neck. But now I look at my kitchen counter and count nine bottles of pills and vitamins. To the left is an inflatable back brace right next to my hearing aids. My life is now protected by an army of body guards lined up in plastic bottles and devices ready to go to war against indigestion, arthritis, restless legs spinal stenosis, and neuropathy issues. Oh, and what did you say? I’m not wearing my hearing aids.

I’m thinking of calling Big Pharma and asking if I can be on a TV commercial where I can dance and sing to my joyful life all because I take prescription pills for pain, but for now, I’m just going to keep writing my doctor appointment dates on the calendar. There’s a little room left for specialists I don’t yet have yet, but might be waiting for me in the near future. I might need a dermatologist to check for basil cell carcinoma. Maybe a chiropractor can stretch my back to minimize the pressure on my nerves and tendons. I’m looking into acupuncture, too.

If I had kept a calendar from 1980, here’s what I might have scheduled for one week. Men’s league bowl on Monday night — 8 p.m. Fix the upstairs bathroom fan on Tuesday. Meet the Teacher Night on Wednesday — 7 p.m. Thursday — off. Men’s Softball game — 6:30 p.m. Friday.

Here’s what I have on my calendar now. MRI next Monday at 9:30 p.m. Pre-eye-surgery appointment with cataract doctor on Wednesday. I’m scheduling future appointment dates for a spine doctor, a nerve specialist and my dentist.

My doctors like me so much they want me to come back to see them again. You know you’re getting older when you see your practitioner more times than you see your friends. Then again, what else would retired people talk about?

Joe: Did you hear Mary had to have her gall bladder removed?

Rich: I did hear that, and Bob has problems with his feet now and that’s after he had hip surgery.

Joe: I just spoke with Ron. He’s got a prostate issue and a biopsy scheduled for Monday.

Rich: Oh, why does the heel in my right foot hurt when I walk? I have to call a podiatrist. I’d better check my calendar and see where I can fit him in.

Email Rich Strack at richiesadie11@gmail.com