We'd set up an appointment with Cliff's heart doctor for August 1, hoping he'd release him to go back to work. But in the mountain of mail we received during the week we were in Colorado, there was a notice from the doctor's office informing us that the appointment had been changed to August 10. Cliff wasn't a happy camper, so I called their office to see if there was any way they could get him in sooner... maybe one of the other doctors could see him. After searching for an earlier date, the lady said, "No way."
"Is there some way they can release him to go to work without having to see the doctor? He's living an absolutely normal life now."
I didn't go into detail, but I could have told her he'd been push-mowing and weed-eating in 90 degree temperatures with no problem, and putting up hay.
"You'd have to talk to the nurse," she told me. So I was transferred to the nurse's voice mail.
Around 4 PM, the nurse called, and I put Cliff on the phone to talk to her. From his end of the conversation, it sounded like she was asking him whether he'd been doing therapy (he told her it was too far to drive, but that he takes a walk every day).
She agreed to talk to the doctor and see if they couldn't give him a release for July 31. So, it sounds promising.