In a raspy voice, he asked, “Son, I’ll be gone soon, but before I go, there’s one of the Great Questions of Life that I must have answered. Please go get Dr. Jones.”
His son looked at his father in confusion; Dr. Jones was the town optometrist, the last person in the world, it seemed, who could do his father any good. But the son was eager to fulfill his father’s dying wish, so off he went to fetch Dr. Jones who was in the middle of a refraction when the son burst into the exam room.
“Doctor Jones,” he exclaimed, “my father is about to die and requests that you come to his bedside to answer one of the Great Questions of Life!”
Doctor Jones, although thinking that perhaps Mr. Smith needed a priest more than an optometrist, agreed to go nonetheless, figuring that somehow he could charge for a housecall and bill Medicare for a little extra.
Once there, Dr. Jones addressed the dying man, “I’ve come as you requested, Mr. Smith, what can I possibly do for you in this, the hour of your severest trial?”
With a look of relief, Mr. Smith replied, “Doc, before I go (cough, gasp), I just have to ask you one question: Which choice really was better, one or two?”