I had to go up to Dr. Mo's office today to get Procrit shots in an effort to bring up my hemoglobin, although getting it up to 10 is pretty hopeless. I guess 10 is the magic number doctors want before doing surgery. Whatever. That's why there are blood banks.
Nathan and I were the odd ducks today in the waiting room. Everyone else was a couple, all were in their 70s would be my guess. The women all sat to the left of the men.
Lately, I've been noticing how much younger old people seem. Not just because I'm--obviously--getting older but because "old" styles aren't quite so old seeming any more. So few people wear dusters any more, you know? Two of the older women were wearing some awfully nice clogs. I'd wear them. One had on a really nice NorthFace jacket that Nathan thought was nice. However, one thing seems not to have changed over the years.
All three women had hair that doesn't move.
Perfectly coiffed helmets of gray curls perched upon their pencil shaded eyebrows.
Wigs? Lots of Aquanet? Both? It seems to defy nature.
Will I end up with helmet hair? Is it, like crows-feet, inevitable?