"I trudged through the day, my nurse tried to hang each IV bag as fast as she could so that I would be done as fast as possible. Each bag took at least an hour though and the time ticked by slowly as I waited through the day.
Lunch time provided much needed comic relief. It was time, time for the mullet. I had an awesome nurse who really got into it with me and came up with the best redneck pose for the mullet of all time."
"She realized my chap stick tin looked just like chewing tobacco. She then had the comic and brilliant idea to put left over coffee grounds or instant coffee in the bottom of my empty water bottle to look like a spit container. After we added a little gauze to my lip, I really looked like I was doing chew. We laughed so hard we could barely take the pictures."
"Next came the Mohawk. I had already thought of doing fake knuckle tattoos. I figured it out that we could spell out BAD KITTY across my knuckles."
"We snapped more Mohawk pictures with my knuckles facing out like the hardcore thug I most certainly am not."
"Then came the moment of truth- a completely shaved head. I honestly thought that I would get a little soggy and emotional at seeing myself with no hair. I had spent practically my whole life with hair down to at least my waist and now I had nothing. I thought I would feel naked and unattractive.
I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable I felt with no hair. I really did look like an artsy Sinead O'Conner. I have a nice round head and it suited me. I decided not to wear my wig until I started to look patchy and shiny."
"Then the distraction from the day was over. I spent the rest of the day in silent pursuits in my room with my husband for company and thought about how disappointed I was to not be going home. When it was time for my husband to pack up and go home all the emotions just caught up to me.
I started crying. I was crying because I wanted to be home. I wanted to lie in bed with my husband. I desired it with an ache that hurt me through my chest and stomach. I missed him so much that I could hardly stand it. I wanted him in bed with me even wanted to hear his annoying snore and argue with him about rolling over. I wanted to be in my bed and be woken up way too early in the morning by a cold wet cat nose. I wanted to be HOME!"
"My husband, Ben, delayed his departure from my room and managed to squeeze his 6'3", 240 some odd pound frame on the tiny hospital bed with me. We spooned and cuddled until I felt calmer. As we laid there talking, I asked him to lay hands on me and pray, in Jesus name, for my counts to come up the next day. I was sick of being in the hospital. I wanted to go home with my husband."