Shave Your Head Saturday

To whom it may concern, 

I have tried everything but cannot figure out how to get rid of the "Cutest Blog on the Block" icon on our page! My apologies to anyone expecting something cute who stumbled over graphic pictures of tubes coming out of my chest! If I could I would change it to say, "The ACUTEST Blog on the Block" :)

It's a good thing we scheduled shave your head Saturday this last weekend because on Thursday I had my first clump. Allow me to explain; I was busy watching the Jazz/Mavericks game when the nurse came in to take my vitals. My blood pressure was a little bit higher than normal - close game imagine that. 

Photo compliments of the Deseret News

So I'm sitting up nervously in my fancy bed, my hands on my head and there is some ridiculous foul call.  I yank my hands forward in protest, arms out, palms up, pleading at the television, "Whaaaaat!" and then I see it, my eyes refocus from the TV to my right hand, and there, pinched between my middle and index finger is a dark tuft of hair. My horror over the foul call has been replaced by a new and more personal horror, "Whaaaaa!" I shout again, but there's no need for a referee on this call: I had my first clump... 

It didn't matter what phase of denial I was floating in prior to that; the clump snapped me out of it. I would soon look like all the others in East 8.

I did my best to hang on to my hair till Saturday, and I would like to thank everyone who went under the razor to support me. The response was overwhelming - with quite a few surprises. My uncle Steven and his family drove up from New Mexico to show their support (a couple with shaved heads) and all decked out in orange leukemia fighting garb. 

Steven's family plus Grandparents and Aunt Martha

My mother's sister Martha is a nurse here at the hospital and is nothing short of amazing. Aside from stunning everyone with her fabulous shaved head, (which even Kezman likes to touch) she has doted over me and checked in on me every chance she gets. 

I'm thinking, "grape vine" I can't even eat grapes!

One day I'm out for my "walk" - gas mask, gown, gloves, you know the drill - and this nursing cart comes flying out from around the corner to impede my course. There's Aunt Martha with three bottles of the most magical lotion I've ever used. She said she "heard through the grape vine" that my knuckles were dry and cracking.

Saturday night my brother's Jordan and Tyrel came and shaved their heads with me. Even my awesome nephew Eric wanted to be in on the fun. It's a good thing Tyrel kept his facial hair too because you can hardly tell us apart. I didn't disclose this to him, but I was tempted to slip my hospital band on his wrist and go out for a night on the town.

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I have felt so much support from the many friends, family, co-workers, and others who shaved their heads and got haircuts. I wish I could mention everyone individually, but I fear I might leave someone out. I wouldn't be surprised if beanie sales rose in Salt Lake this week.

Know this: as I sit here stripping the marrow off a bone of string cheese and wonder, "Why does it taste so much better when you string it, as apposed to just biting off the tip?" I am also thinking of each one of your shivering heads. Every frigid quiver you endure brings warmness into my room.