While cleaning up my beard I discovered something new. It’s my first gray hair. I checked and re-checked, to make sure it wasn’t just shiny and reflecting the light in the bathroom, but no, it’s pure white. Man oh man.

Next on the agenda of inevitability: baldness!

I have other (personal) news on the horizon, but I’m going to wait until next week to share it. Stay tuned!

The deed is done, I am vasectomized.

The first question you’d probably ask me after such a procedure is: How bad did it hurt? It hurt, but it wasn’t so bad; I’ve certainly felt worse. Imagine someone grabbing and kind of squeezing your testes — it hurts, but it’s tolerable, and you just want them to stop.

Here’s how it all went, with some advice that I received intermixed:

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Tomorrow’s the big day. I’ve been looking forward to this for some time. Early Friday morning, coincidentally my 30th birthday, I will be having my vas ectomied — lay-speak for a vasectomy.

I’m absolutely certain about my decision to become sterile. I can’t recall a time I’ve ever said to myself: “I wish I had a son or daughter” or “I can’t wait to have kids.” I will not be storing any semen, so I expect the value of existing stock to rise considerably.

However, as the hours tick by I find myself becoming more apprehensive. It’s the pain of the procedure that I am concerned about. At the dentist, I always need to have two shots of carbocaine, else I’ll feel everything. I’ll be sure to let the anesthesiologist know I may require more than most people, but having never had surgery before, I do not have any idea how much I’ll actually need.

I feel like my heart is beating a little faster, and I’m doing that can’t-figure-out-what-to-do-with-my-hands thing. The word “jitters” has never seemed so descriptive.