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When I turn to find Sara in my room to ask her what the hell Dr. R took, I realize Sara is also dancing. Several other nurses who have worked with me poke their heads in for just a moment to sing one line of the song’s chorus. I throw my head back in laughter.
They are trying to cheer me up. They don’t care if they look like fools doing it. Then Rory sticks his head in and sings the chorus directly at me. My face hurts from all the smiling, then I panic. Dr. Ramirez is looking at me with an eyebrow slightly raised.
The song ends and rolls straight into the next one as Sara uncovers her cart’s contents: hair clippers. I nod at her with understanding and permission. She wraps me in a cape with raised edges to catch my hair, and Dr. Ramirez takes me by surprise and starts painting my toenails.
I appreciate what they are trying to do. They’re treating me like any other girlfriend on any other day—not the sick person I am. There is no pity in their eyes as Sara leaves me bald. They keep singing until they run out of energy and turn their attention to boys.
If I could have had the guarantee my family would act like this around me, like I was still me, I would have told them.
I worry a bit as they keep talking about the men in their lives. First, because Dr. Ramirez implies that Sara’s boyfriend isn’t a good guy. Then I worry they are going to ask me about any romantic partners. I’m not sure I could lie to them after what they are doing for me.
Dr. Ramirez is so focused on painting my nails, she never notices Dr. Medina standing at the counter by the nurses’ station, watching as she and Sara tried to cheer me up. I have a clear view of him through my open door. He smiles at me and brings a finger to his lips, asking for my silence. I gave a quick, discreet nod, and he stays there, his eyes glued to Dr. Ramirez as she works to cheer me up. It seems I’m not the only one with a secret doctor crush at this hospital. I smile at Dr. Ramirez. Not until they are nearly done and putting away all the supplies does Dr. Medina sneak away unnoticed.
Sara and Dr. Ramirez leave, and though my spirits are a bit lighter than they had been before they came, I’m left exhausted. Even talking as much as we did today took it out of me.
I rummage through my purse to pull out my pocket mirror. I’m not a vain person, and I have never paid any particular attention to my hair, but it was beautiful. I say ‘was’ because Sara just walked away with all of it in a trash bag.
I take a deep breath and remove the blue silk scarf Dr. Ramirez tied around my head. I steel my spine as I unfold the mirror in my hand and take a peek at my new reality.
To be honest, it’s not bad. I mourn the loss of such beautiful, lush, thick hair, but the baldness gives me a certain edge. I almost look dangerous. Thinking of the future, I realize it might be a good look for the cage if I ever get back to it. The way a fighter looks can certainly affect an opponent’s perception and potentially throw them off their game.
Yes. Bald is the best fighting look.
