IN WHICH BUZZY DECIDES TO HAVE A FUTZINGDAY

Mister Lovey left for New Jersey at the crack of dawn today, so I decided to grab a few extra minutes of sleeping time before coming here to the chair.

Apparently, Buzzy was not happy about this turn of events, because his behavior has been...vexing...for the last two hours. He and Beepy are evidently not getting along, and she is expressing her displeasure by alarming and bitching about it every six minutes.

Damn Buzzy.

Today was doctor visit day, which means the team descended on me in the chair, surrounded me with their rolly carts and laptops and proceeded to discuss my tan.  I get it. I really do. I have a lot of color. But for pitty sakes girls...we need to get it together and talk about labwork and meds and treatment plans, OK?

So I smiled and chatted and made nice and then whipped out my little notebook and grilled them until I understood everything sufficiently and they could move on to their next victim.

The good news is that I am holding my own, and despite the difficulties of dialysis, it looks like I will live to fight another day. I am to keep doing what I'm doing, dial up the protein a bit, and stay as positive as I can until a kidney comes my way.

Check.

Tonight I hope to get back to my Fancy Flag. I elected to pay attention to Lovey last night and watch the TeeVee with him rather than bury my nose in my linen. He'll be gone for about ten days, so I should have plenty of time to play.

Happy Futzingday, Dearies! I hope yours has dawned bright and swell and that the birds are tweeting sweetly in your neck of the woods. Come tell us all about it!