This may come across as narcissistic, but shaving off a beard I’ve only had since late-October has made me feel 10-15 years younger. I decided to grow one after a day in the ER and a night in the hospital. The initial thought was a heart-attack but it was finally diagnosed as pericarditis triggered by my annual flu-shot. This event added to the angst I was already carrying in my head about reaching sixty-five. Even though it wasn’t brought on by age or poor health, I imagined it as a glimpse into my mortality. This episode occurred at about the same time I had met with a doctor to address my drop in energy, vitality and sex-drive. My wife truly believed in the benefits of a proper hormone balance and encouraged me to see a doctor. The first doctor was a urologist that studied my blood-work and deemed me fit-as-a-fiddle for a man my age. This was the most depressing news I could have received. I didn’t want to be 64, I wanted to be 30-40 again! My other concern was both my sons were flying to Europe the next day and the last thing I wanted was them worrying about me on their trip. As I lay in my hospital bed all these thoughts continued to swirl around in my head, causing a dread I had not experienced before. Once the doctors figured out what I was suffering with, ibuprofen took care of it quickly and I was out the next day, in time to actually take them to the airport. If you’re curious, the hospital visit was around $40K.

This experience caused deep reflection on a variety of personal topics, including oddly enough facial hair. Approaching a milestone birthday (in my mind anyway) was having its effects on my psyche. Appearance has always been important to me especially being in sales, so I didn’t want anything to detract from that. Statistically, 55% of men world wide have facial hair but I just couldn’t bring myself to grow anything beyond my mustache. This was mainly because it was white; not multi-colored or grey, but white. I had gone for the length of a vacation not shaving, but always gave in to being mustache only in the end. After leaving the hospital I was given a brace to wear on my right wrist. This was designed to keep me from putting pressure on it or picking up anything with too much weight. Because they had cut my artery to insert the camera, it needed to heal; splitting open that incision could be dangerous. This provided an “excuse” not shave for a week which I viewed as a justification to grow a beard.

Almost like being “cheered-on” and with only positive feedback, it stayed this time. I continued studying my face in the mirror daily; turning from side to side and up and down, to determine if it should stay or go. I almost wanted negative comments, or lukewarm approval from my wife at least to give me a reason to shave but it never came. The contemplation of my pending birthday continued weighing heavy on my mind, and the white-bearded guy looking back at me in the mirror wasn’t giving me any youthful support or encouragement. As I continued dwelling on my birthday, it became increasingly difficult to focus and maintain a positive attitude. I finally appreciated why women color their hair. Grey can project an aged image that isn’t accurate or in keeping with the spirit or vitality of the individual. Some people have the strength to wear their true color easily and proudly. When it comes to the hair on my head I have no issues or reservations sporting my natural color, but on my face; I can’t do it!

After shaving I felt at least 10-years younger, and was sure I had lost weight too. Age is proving to be a funny companion.