I called up my buddy Tom the other day to see if he wanted to go get some dinner (that’s what we call lunch in the South; that meal you eat in the evening is “supper” around here). Anyway, he said, “No, I have a telephone hearing with a judge and payer about getting paid for a leg I delivered last year.” Last year? I asked. Didn’t the patient like it? “No,” Tom said, “the patient said it was the best leg he’s ever had.” Then what’s the problem? I asked. He said he wasn’t sure, but he was sure he would have to get a rain check on lunch.