When you spend most of your time advocating for a husband in health crisis it becomes clear that some things get lost in the shuffle. Since my husband came home from a succession of care center stays, I prided myself on being on top of things. Well I must say that being on top wasn't always my favorite position but it helps to be in command when dealing with health organizations, health aides, specialists, the IRS and all manner of other entities when one is in home- and health-care management.

Things were great the other morning. No getting up in the night this time since my husband deals with nighttime emergencies on his own most of the time. So I wasn't prepared for what was to come. On my way to a meeting that I had not been able to attend for months, I stopped at my favorite bank where my favorite bank president Margaret looks after our accounts. A new clerk was standing behind the glass security booth and of course, since he didn't know me he asked for my driver's license before cashing the check I handed him. Then he offered the comment that my license needed renewing. That news didn't sink in at first. I said, "If you hadn't remodeled the bank to mount a security shield in front of my dear Margaret's desk I could have waved at her and she would have given you the go sign but now I have to produce identification."

Hearing my voice, which has become more powerful since my husband became slightly deaf, she came around the barrier and approached me. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she queried. Oh, no. Everything is in order.

As I left the bank a shocking realization came over me. My driver's license had expired. Luckily the license renewal office was just across from Westwood Village so I hurried over to wait in line. It was relatively painless. However, I was asked in front of everyone in line behind me if my weight had changed and I truthfully revealed that I was now 164 pounds, up from 160. Then for $25 I got a temporary license and was asked to have my picture taken again.

But before I could stand on the black line and face the camera I was told, "Remove your hat." Now anyone who knows me knows that I never take my hat off for anyone. It covers a multitude of sins, one being I hadn't combed my hair that morning. So I protested, "I need my hat. Any patrol officer stopping me on the highway wouldn't recognize me without it as I always wear a hat." No luck. Again the clerk demanded, "Remove your hat."

Well, I was about to turn on my heel and leave when the clerk called out, "Step back on the black line, you blinked in the picture. I must take another." I retorted, "I am a hyper. I always beat the flash." But I dutifully stepped back onto the black line and faced the camera again. When I saw my hatless countenance come up on her monitor for checking I laughed, "Wow. That picture isn't bad. I might enlarge it and frame it when I get my permanent license."

I was so anxious to put my hat on that I knocked off the flower I had pinned onto it and had to stop and put it back into place. Everyone sitting watching to take their turn at the line looked at me as if to say, "Doesn't she realize that you can't fight the government?"

Funny that my mind even included the word fight. I have tried to get that word out of my vocabulary. I even complain when the Raging Grannies sing about fighting against poverty or fighting against corrupt government. We Raging Grannies are supposed to be working for peace not fighting things. How can one fight for peace? Seems to me that is a contradiction in terms.

But I have always been one to split hairs. Ever heard that expression? Guess it is my rigid, righteous upbringing. There is only one way to be right and one must always be right. Hope I can shed that habit. I am too busy managing my husband's health care to bother with always being right these days. Right?

Georgie Bright Kunkel is a free-lance writer and speaker on topics ranging from humor, aging, women's concerns and the Holocaust. Her second book, written with and about her husband, is now published. Find out more by e-mailing gnkunkel@comcast.net