Okay so I can't bathe until the drains are out. Yuck. But my kind Bradley has been giving me a sponge bath every day to make sure I don't get smelly. They take forever, but at least I'm clean.
The only thing we haven't touched was the hair. The surgeon was very clear about staying dry and not getting the incisions wet. We figured I could go a week without washing my hair. But, umm...when you sleep in a recliner and lay on your back all day, your hair does not want to wait a week to get taken care of. I started looking like a homeless person.
So I asked around. Not one, not two, but several people suggested that I try a dry shampoo.
It's what you spray in your hair between washes, if your hair gets greasy. You spray it on, and comb it out. Voila, beautiful hair.
Sounds easy. I talked to my wonderful soon to be mother in law about it. She kindly agreed to pick some up for me today on her way to visit me. Sweet.
Model hair, here I come!
She came, she brought it over and we had a lovely visit. Once she left Brad and I got to work. We read the instructions on the bottle carefully. Okay, this is not rocket science. Spray, then comb.
I covered my face with a towel so I wouldn't inhale the aerosol spray and Brad went to town spraying - until he was done. Then he took a step back, and laughed. Laughed.
That was not the right response. I look puzzled. "What? You need to comb it out first." He goes to the bathroom and hands me a mirror - still laughing. I take a look. Oh shit. I look like grandma. It turned my hair grey. All of it. So, not only do I have greasy hair, it's now grey to boot. Awesome. I laugh too. We both laugh so hard that we cry and my stitches hurt.
Then we open the windows to let the aerosol spray out - it's all I can smell.
We need a plan B.
So, we opt for the 'me-kneeling-on-the-floor-by-the-bathtub-bending-over' option. Brad throws a bunch of towels on me to keep the water from getting in. We begin. 5 minutes and it's over. He does a great job. When he's done he proceeds to wrap my hair in a towel turban style - that part he didn't do so great (but he's a boy after all!) All in all, my hair is washed. We proceed to dry it and brush it - team effort - and when it's all done, I look like my old self again.
I have not laughed this hard in a long time. In fact, neither of us have. I love that even with drains hanging out, and stitches all across my chest, my Bradley and I can enjoy each other like any other ordinary day. In fact, he ordered us some wonderful take out and later, we may enjoy a walk after dinner... even if it is just from the living room to the kitchen and back again.