According to Wyatt, I'm not dead. He's giving me a check-up while I'm researching food processors (really wanted to get one today and bring it home - it's not happening) and put the stethoscope to my shoulder. He then announced he couldn't hear anything - no surprise here - but assures me that I'm not dead. Whew.
He's also informed me he can see my bones with his power drill; I'll need to pull down my pants for a shot (no way, no day); that looking in my ears might tickle and that I have a fever, which means I'm sad. Rough Monday. But at least I'm not dead!