He was there when you learned you had cancer. He was there when you said yes to chemotherapy. He was there when your hair began to fall. He was there when no one else was. A doctor, no, a man who made you feel alive even as your body slowly broke apart.

From the moment you met him in that hospital office, he never left your side, always giving you someone to lean on through the pain.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into your room with a trimmer in hand, a sad yet reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “I think it’s time for a little chop, no?”