Guinea Pigs and Gynecologists

Do you hate the dentist?

I hate the dentist. Not as much as I hate the lady parts doctor but I hate the dentist and that is the ONLY reason I'm absolutely thrilled not to have insurance right now. Let me clarify something before I continue. I don't hate my dentist as in the man who is my dentist, I just despise his chosen profession. I'm sure that there are many very nice people who are dentists and lady parts doctors but the thought of either one of them telling me to "open wide" sends chills down my spine.

I had to go to the dentist last year because I had a rotten tooth that was giving me fits so I went to my Mothers dentist here in Oregon City. I loved everyone in the office, and I'm not just saying that because I'm Facebook friends with some of them, I really really like them and I totally understand that in these difficult economic times you have to take whatever job you can get and that's why they're working in a house of horrors. I get that. But how do they sleep at night... Do the sounds of my little children's screams echo in their mind? Do they toss and turn in the night as they dream of drills come to life burrowing out pockets of un-numbed decay? And I have to wonder, do bad dentists go to a place with no nitrous and undergo never ending root canals by a dentist who suffers from Parkinson's Disease when they die, because if that's the case I have the name of at least two heartless M'er F'ers who need to go on that list. These are the kind of things I think about when I think about going to the dentist, and I don't EVEN want to tell you what I think about when I think about going the lady parts doctor...

And whatever you do, do not EVEREVEREVER Google images for "pap smear"

Oh my gawd, I have to go pour acid in my eyes and think about the dentist again.

Change the subject.

Wyatt got a pig :)

He was such and emotional wreck yesterday, so I decided to take him to town with me and I had every intention of just buying him an ice cream (health food ice cream) but he kept bursting into tears and it was totally breaking my heart so I had NO other choice but to wheel in to the pet store and try to stifle his suffering with a new critter. At first it didn't work, he wasn't into the whole "replacement pet" idea, but I persisted and kept really talking up the pigs and parakeets, but he remained pretty blahze' about the whole idea. I managed to convince him that a little pig would wash away his sorrows and finally, after about thirty minutes we (I) picked out the cutest pig in the pen, that we (I) decided to call Jose' (Wyatt calls him Chip. Whatever). Sadly, there was no instant bond with Jose' Chip or quick relief from the pain of losing Carlos which for me is hard to understand because I'm into that whole immediate gratification thing, but as the afternoon went on and we got Jose's Chip's cage set up and he held him and played with him a little more, he started to feel a little bit better, and by dinner time he was acting more like his usual obnoxious eleven year old self again.

The pain of losing Carlos will linger on (kind of like the smell where his hutch sat) but little boys are pretty resilient and you know what I always say, a new pig makes everything better ❤