The end of the beard...for now.

Today is a sad day. 

The shedding became too much for my face sweater to bare, and my hand was forced into trimming the beard down. 

I took a shower, washed my face a bit too aggressively apparently, and my entire moustache fell out.

So here we are. 

damnit

I'm thankful that I haven't had to completely shave. We'll see how long this little 5 o'clock shadow sticks around.

Now, just so you know, I'm aware of how silly it is to be upset about such a thing. It's just a beard. It's just hair. It'll grow back. Not everyone finds it attractive anyway. Blah blah blah. I know all of these things.

That being said, I'm pretty angry/upset about it. Aside from the fact that, in general, watching your hair just fall out in huge amounts is a strange and unpleasant experience, it's another item on a short list of things I can't control right now.

Another "wheel" cancer has taken control of, and will steer until I bid it farewell.

I guess it makes sense I'd cling a little harder to things I have "control" over at a time like this. Things that are familiar, comfortable, part of some identity I constructed for myself. Hell, the beard is part of the title here. Now it's gone.

I know it's just a beard. It will grow back, and when it does I'm not shaving for years.

Just a beard. Small price to pay for remission.

Just a beard--but it sure feels like more than that at the moment.

Shit.

"Loss of control is always the source of fear. It is also, however, always the source
of change."-James Frey


How I feel about cancer at this moment:

game on.