A post in which I have an assignation*

Well Tim showed up. Not that I was sure I wanted him to before he got there.

I went to the doctor this morning, and my blood (unsurprisingly after the orgy of greens this weekend) was too thick. So Nurse Funk told me to take one more shot of Lovenox (which I had fortuitously stowed in my briefcase, just in case) and then start alternating my dose of Coumadin tomorrow. I was pleased to see that the flowers I took her last week were still fresh and pretty. I took Cassie a "Little Jewel" clear depression bowl, because I had noticed during my last visit that she was using this awful plastique bowl made to look like cut glass - ugh. She told me she appreciated it, and faithfully told me she would take the reject one to the Goodwill. I couldn't have my chemo nurse using a plastic candy bowl any more than I could have Rhonda eating off of horse butt plates. I'm just sayin'.

By the end of the day I was having one of those sleepy phases and really just wanted to go home and go to bed. But I had a couple of texts from Tim today, and after wondering about him for a year I did want to meet him.

Towards the end of the day I was plagued with doubts. I had sent one guy this weekend a snapshot that I made with the webcam and he had run screaming for the hills. I don't look bad or sick, but just not quite like myself yet. My eyebrows are growing in kind of brambly, and my hair has a strange 'tufty' look that Russ is going to smooth out for me this weekend. My beard is unfashionably full since it came in faster than my hair, and I'm afraid to trim it much because Russ says I always gap it. Plus I still have stitches in my chest, and they're black, which looks rather alarming against my moonlight and magnolias complexion. In short, I have the frankenboob. I was wondering if a date at this stage was really the best idea. So I went home and trimmed the wildest of my eyebrows. I fluffed the house a bit and took a shower. I put some band-aids over the stitches. I didn't eat supper because I didn't get an answer on whether or not he was planning for us to go to dinner. All in all, I didn't think I looked too bad, but was still a bit nervous.

He was really nice, and cute as a bug. Not too cute either. You know that kind of beautiful where you have to worry about everyone trying to steal them and stuff like that. He was sweet, and accommodating, and very sexy. He seemed to like the way I looked too. We had a long talk and snuggled in the half dark - it was really romantic and I very much enjoyed spending the time with him. A lot of time the closeness is what I miss. Unfortunately his ex apparently put him through the wringer, and even after two years he doesn't want to be in a relationship. So we compromised that we would go out again, and I would just be conspicuously charming and try to win him over.

He left about 9:30 and I still hadn't eaten any dinner. So I warmed a can of soup, put a load of sheets in the dryer, and went on to bed. It was a really nice evening, but I am pooped.