Three days ago (a Wednesday) in the early morning, as the trip to Sanibel approached, Steve – who takes blood thinners – commented how he was really stuffy, that the pollen must be really getting to him, somehow (he’s not allergic). And he blew his nose. Really hard.

Blood came out like a fountain.

Within a half hour, we were both riding in the ambulance, headed for the ER. The blood wasn’t stopping (!!), Steve had gotten extremely light-headed, and I knew I could not lift him if he went down. Help was needed.

After a few hours, he was back home – the proud possessor of what I call the World’s Most Expensive Tampon, shoved up his left nostril, leaving a 3-4″ stretch of plastic tubing hanging out (for inflating and deflating). I think the nurse called it a “rocket.” Steve swore it’s so long that its end was buried in his orbital cavity, giving him a dull headache.

The ER doc – who appeared (to us) to be in his late teens – told Steve the “rocket” had to stay in 3 days, but since the third day was a Saturday, he suggested seeing the ENT on Friday afternoon. So we went on Friday, after two restless nights and days, eagerly awaiting the moment when Steve could be comfortable again.

It was not to be. The ENT (this one had a ton of body hair, but I think he was only possibly 13) said patients with a clotting disorder have to keep the rocket 5-7 days. Oh my gosh. Poor Steve. I hated, HATED to see him so disappointed.

In the midst of this, I got a phone call from one of the well-meaning friends of my MIL. I was out shopping for my trip, hoping against hope that I’d still be able to go, so I let it go to voicemail.

“This is Myrtle. Don’t call me back. I just want to tell you how concerned I am. She’s driving ALL

THE TIME. We are all scared to death. Remember, you will all be held liable if she hits someone.” Click.

We love that my MIL has people who love her, who are watching out for her. But I’m beyond annoyed for a wide number of reasons: primarily because Myrtle was just as surprised and pleased as we were when my MIL passed (yes, PASSED) all of the tests she needed to in order to retain her license – cognitive, physical and vision. But I’m also worried because while the progression of Alzheimer’s can be slow and kept in check with meds, it still progresses. At what point do we pull the plug on the car…again? I’ve watched her drive. She is an excellent driver. And she only drives 5 miles a day – to and from her favorite convenience store. It’s the getting lost part I worry about.

That morning of the nosebleed, before I came upstairs and Steve erupted, I read the following verse (from Numbers, one of those books in the bible that I tend to avoid…too much bean-counting):

They were to carry on their shoulders the holy things, for which they were responsible. Numbers 7:9

Maybe going to Sanibel is not what I am supposed to be doing. Who am I to run away from my holy things, which God has entrusted to me?