Life Insurance: the exam.

 

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This morning a man came to our house at 6:30 AM in the morning to do our medical exams so we could qualify for life insurance. He was a quirky guy, very big yet soft spoken wearing a mustard color canvas uniform, not the traditional scrubs. Doreen crawled out of the bed first and conducted her exam in pajamas and a robe. I decided to leash up my boobs and put on my clothes from the night before. I mean we were entertaining a gentleman caller after all. The perfect early risers.

We were put through the usual questions sitting at the dining room table: Do you smoke, drink… how much (obligatory lie), family history, personal health inquiries, blood pressure and a quick blood test. We can’t leave out the always humiliating pee in a cup. I listened to Doreen’s inquisition and her attempt at humor with the not so funny fella while I prepped a pot-o-Joe. Then it was my turn and for some reason I got a few extra questions after I revealed my weight,”do you exercise?” “Yes.” I say with great pride. “What do you do?” he asks, not seeming to believe me. “I run on an elliptical about five days a week, sit ups, push ups, light free weights, mostly cardio based” and then he poked my thigh with his pencil and said, “do you have (something indecipherable in my morning stupor).” “Excuse me?” I say. He waves his pencil, “artificial arms or legs, do you have any?” “nope, all mine.” Then, without missing a beat, he looks into our kitchen and mentions that something looks good. Doreen takes a stab at what he was pointing at, “oh the peanuts?”. “No, those” he pointed again. “Oh, the cashews, would you like some?” Doreen ever the hostess at now 6:45 AM quickly pulled out a bowl to put some nuts in and he stopped her and asked if she had plastic, so he could take them with him. Doreen loaded up a baggie of cashews. He then asked briefly about what we were going to do today and packed up our specimens, grabbed his cashews and off he went.

Life insurance, what a weird thing to begin with. I’m going to give you money for 30 years so in case I die in those thirty years you can give my survivors some cash to dispose of me. Okay, but do I get a discount on disposal if I am missing limbs? Less to deal with? Hopefully, I’ll never know.

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