Rob finally had his physical while I was away. In fact, that’s why he didn’t go with me to the birthday retreat, because the only date he could get was smack in the middle of it.  While I was in Chattanooga, I told one of my cousins, who’s a surgeon, about the physical.

He looked baffled and said, “It’s a six-minute procedure done under, at most, a shoulder block.  Why do they need a physical?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Insurance, I guess.”

He shook his head. “Fly him down here. It’ll be less of a hassle.”

We both laughed.

So, today, Rob finds out that yes, of course, there’s another hoop he has to jump through. The nerve-conductivity test he had back in Portland shows that his hands are normal.  This means two things 1) they have to do another one. 2) It’s not a pre-existing condition, which throws the status of the insurance (worker’s comp or our insurance) back up in the air again.

I’m beginning to think that I should just put him on a plane to Chattanooga.