Skunk Hair and Aging
Today we had the “pleasure” of having Ms. Celia come in for her usual monthly appointment. No one–and I repeat, no one–is fond of Celia, and we don't exactly look forward to her monthly visits. Celia has caused quite a bit of drama in our office in the past, and she is the type of patient who is... well... bipolar. Really. She is a case that is so pathetic though that I can’t help but feel sorry for her. So I spent about thirty minutes talking with her this afternoon while she waited on her cab to arrive.
Now Celia used to have nice gray hair. Several months ago, however, she arrived at our office in her usual whirlwind, sporting a new hair color. As usual, I was not impressed at the fake hair color, but whatever pleases this woman–so shall it be. I thought I had seen it all, but when Celia arrived today, it was all I could do not to flinch. What used to be a reddish brown hair color is now pitch black at the bottom, after which it then turns into a reddish brown color in the temple area. This is all crowned by a “blonde halo.” “Skunk” was what came to mind, but because I am a professional, I gave no indication that anything was amiss.
As distasteful as this patient is, I enjoy getting her to talk about stuff because she is simply so dramatic about things. During the course of the conversation this afternoon, she of her own accord brought up her disastrous hair. Her “friend” did this to her, as it turns out. “I look like a punk rocker now,” she told me miserably. And this poor lady is so embarrassed, she says, that she tries not to go anywhere except where absolutely necessary. She said that people don’t even try to fake it with the new hairdo. In fact, according to her, they actually give a pained expression after uttering, “Celia. What happened to your hair?”
“The first words out of my mouth when I looked into a mirror,” she told me, “was ‘I look like a skunk!’” Celia thinks this is probably as close as she’ll ever get to having a halo, but “I feel like an idiot!”
I was laughing pretty hard by this time. At least she knows it looks bad. From the topic of hair, we started talking about the process of aging. “If there were one thing I could ask God,” she said, “do you know what it would be?”
Yes, Celia, I do want to know.
“I hope the Lord doesn’t strike me down for saying this,” she told me, “but if I could, I would say, ‘Sir, if You have time, could you just explain this “aging” thing to me?’ That is one thing I do not understand! What was God thinking!?” she continued. “How could He start us so right–all cute and cuddly as babies and stuff–and then give us such a terrible end?”
I was laughing so hard by this time, I couldn’t even be called upon to comment. She continued on, “I’m serious. You start out so good, but then you get to where you want to just pee all over yourself! I don’t know how many times–ever since my hip replacement–I have had to pee on myself. I just don’t understand what the point is!”
Once I regained my composure, I explained my views on aging to her, and I think I gave her something to think about at least.
But you know what? Sometimes I don’t get it either.
Now Celia used to have nice gray hair. Several months ago, however, she arrived at our office in her usual whirlwind, sporting a new hair color. As usual, I was not impressed at the fake hair color, but whatever pleases this woman–so shall it be. I thought I had seen it all, but when Celia arrived today, it was all I could do not to flinch. What used to be a reddish brown hair color is now pitch black at the bottom, after which it then turns into a reddish brown color in the temple area. This is all crowned by a “blonde halo.” “Skunk” was what came to mind, but because I am a professional, I gave no indication that anything was amiss.
As distasteful as this patient is, I enjoy getting her to talk about stuff because she is simply so dramatic about things. During the course of the conversation this afternoon, she of her own accord brought up her disastrous hair. Her “friend” did this to her, as it turns out. “I look like a punk rocker now,” she told me miserably. And this poor lady is so embarrassed, she says, that she tries not to go anywhere except where absolutely necessary. She said that people don’t even try to fake it with the new hairdo. In fact, according to her, they actually give a pained expression after uttering, “Celia. What happened to your hair?”
“The first words out of my mouth when I looked into a mirror,” she told me, “was ‘I look like a skunk!’” Celia thinks this is probably as close as she’ll ever get to having a halo, but “I feel like an idiot!”
I was laughing pretty hard by this time. At least she knows it looks bad. From the topic of hair, we started talking about the process of aging. “If there were one thing I could ask God,” she said, “do you know what it would be?”
Yes, Celia, I do want to know.
“I hope the Lord doesn’t strike me down for saying this,” she told me, “but if I could, I would say, ‘Sir, if You have time, could you just explain this “aging” thing to me?’ That is one thing I do not understand! What was God thinking!?” she continued. “How could He start us so right–all cute and cuddly as babies and stuff–and then give us such a terrible end?”
I was laughing so hard by this time, I couldn’t even be called upon to comment. She continued on, “I’m serious. You start out so good, but then you get to where you want to just pee all over yourself! I don’t know how many times–ever since my hip replacement–I have had to pee on myself. I just don’t understand what the point is!”
Once I regained my composure, I explained my views on aging to her, and I think I gave her something to think about at least.
But you know what? Sometimes I don’t get it either.
posted by Kris at 6/14/2006 11:16:00 PM
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