I had grand plans to take pictures of our spring snow yesterday morning before church, so that I could post those pictures here.
What is it that has been said about the plans of mice and men? Ah yes, they "Go oft awry." And if the best intentions of men often stray from their original plans, how foolish would it be of me to expect better of my own plans.
So, instead of taking pictures, I got one of the most epic nosebleeds known to human history. (I may be exaggerating a bit, but how else would you describe a dual nostril drainage of hemoglobin of two plus hours duration?) Instead of sitting at church with sermon notes in my lap, I sat on a bed in the ER with a bucket on my lap.
Remember me mentioning my prejudicial distaste for needles? Don't ask me why I hate needles. I had a bad experience. Yesterday's phebotomist did nothing to alleviate my morbid mistrust of all needles. She was a little rough while removing my IV, and I now have a golf ball sized bruise on my forearm. Good thing she only handles IVs and not catheters.
Diagnosis: nothing a little antibiotics and steriod nasal spray can't handle.
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