Friday, March 1, 2013

The Big Reveal

Behold:


Dr. H.

It's a bit of a bummer that he isn't smiling. (Dude has a wicked smile.) But at least this gives you all an idea of what I'm talking about.

His hair's a little longer than this now, and it's sort of wavy. When he gets surprised (say, when a patient tells him that she's been blogging for years - and specifically, writing about how dreamy her single oncologist is for the last several  months - and then asks if she can put his picture on her blog so her followers can see what he looks like), his eyes get wide and his eyebrows go up. And then he laughs and says "Sure, you can put my picture online." Its pretty adorable.

His condition was that I link it to his match.com profile.

I'm sorry, but... WHAT does that man think he needs Match for?! Hello. No, that's not happening. And I told him so, in a rather screechy voice. (I've been told men love to be screeched at, so I'm sure that was enjoyable for him.)

In semi-related news, he did not say no to Sunday dinner. He didn't say yes, either, but he didn't say no. (Does anybody else see a pattern here?)

Jo had sent a formal invite by way of a text to my phone that I handed to him and made him read.

Dr. H,

I hope that you will give us the pleasure of your company by accepting our invitation to Sunday dinner. We would love to have you.

Sincerely,

Jo and family

He took my phone number, and is going to look at his schedule and let me know what Sunday will work for him. That's right, he had me write my phone number down for him.

Also, he had me write......

The blog address.

So he can read  my blog. 

A normal person would be mortified right now. I, of course, am not. In fact, I think it's kind of hilarious that he wants to read what I've written about him. (And you can be darn sure I told him to look up June 16, 2012. That is, after all, the post that went viral and let 2,500 people know that I had a crush on my oncologist. It seemed fitting. ... Plus, it's pretty much the best thing I've ever written.) I figure how much harm can it do for him to read the silliness about him that gets chronicled here, when he knows darn good and well that I think he's dreamy and have designs on his future? In fact, we got into what could lightly be called an argument today over whether or not he could afford to marry me and pay for my life. Effective Tuesday. ... He's willing to cover my scans. I say his insurance would cover my scans, and he can cover everything else. ... Don't worry, kids, we'll work that out. Probably not before Tuesday, though, so don't hold your breath.)

Speaking of Dr. H reading my blog, he asked if he would be able to comment. My gut is that he's gong to want to refute whatever it is that I say, but on the off chance that he wants to write something about how funny I am, what a great writer I am, how much he enjoys my visits, or that he's thought about it, and maybe he can fit me (and my bills) into the rest of his life, I am going to open comment functionality back up.

That's right, people. You will be allowed to comment once again.

And before you give me any crap about making special conditions for one person, let me just say... I would have done it for Nathan Fillion, if he'd asked. So there.

(Besides, this gives you all an open forum to discuss how dreamy he is. Oh, and did you know the man cures cancer? ... Ups the ante a bit, doesn't it?)

Also, my scan was clean. The Tootsie Roll looks very much the same, only more like scar tissue. Whatever that means. ... I'll take it!

This day gets gold stars, all the way around!

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