Going To Get Spayed
Monday, January 24, 2005

Or, "spaded" as some speakers of South Eastern Utah Pioneerese would say.

My dad insists that he can do it, and he'd only charge $65 (what I've already spent on deductible and pre-op "cleansing" stuff). I iterated that I don't want to be cut open on the kitchen table. He responded that I would be completely unconscious anyway, so why should I care?

He has a point. I then mentioned that he couldn't supply me with the subarachnoid morphine drip, but he just said he'd provide me with the pills or shots, so what do I need a hospital for when as a veterinarian he'd not only charge me less, but I wouldn't even have to leave the comfort of my own home?

Best answer I could come up with? He's got to take care of my brother, who broke his leg four-wheeling some food out to some old guy who'd been stranded by the floods in South Western Utah. *sigh*

It's been the same all my life. Rip a huge gash in my leg, Dad'll sew it up (unless I scream loud enough and long enough that he has to leave me alone, then I end up with a nasty scar). Ears need piercing? Why, Dad's got the equipment right here. Sure, it's a syringe needle, but that just makes it easier to pull the post back through the hole.

Need menarche explained? Dad drew me pictures.

Anyway, I will be offline for the next few days to a week. Miss me, I know you will.



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