I was doing remarkably well.
We got to this test where the doc asked me to count backwards from 100 in steps of 7, and his last part was, "... and see how far you can go."
Well, 14 x 7 = 98, and 100 - 98 = 2 .... so when I got to 2 the doc said, "That's great, now lets go on to ..."
But I ignored him and went into negative numbers
And the doc rudely interrupted trying to make me stop. But I remembered having to wait in the Waiting Room for an extra hour and a half beyond my scheduled appointment, and I decided it was time to waste a little of the doctor's time.
"Really, umm, Mr. Boston we really need to ..
".. move on to the next tests .."
In a quiet voice he told his nurse to get a needle filled with something .... I figured probably for me.
I pulled out a .45 automatic model 1911, and laid it on the counter and told the surprised doc that this caliber of handgun isn't divisible by seven but I did have seven shells in the magazine while loading the eighth shell into the firing chamber. But the model number 1911 is divisible by seven.
"Doc, your instructions were to count backwards from 100 by seven and see how far I could go. So we are going to be here a while. The nurse can leave."
"-47" ... ... ...
I got out my calculator to see how fast I needed to go to reach -600 in an hour and a half, and then paced myself. I thought a nice even group of 100 subtractions would suffice and be agonizingly slow.
I didn't tell him I planned to stop at -600.
It turns out that an hour and a half listening to a person count backwards by seven irritates a SWAT team, too.
So now you know why I will be gone for a long time to a special hospital with bars on the windows for the criminally insane.
(None of this story is true, but I did create the story plot with the negative numbers idea while talking to my mother about her recent doctor visit, so, special thanks to her.)