We went the two of us mindful that it was almost six months since our last appointment - the Thursday before Erin's accident – when the three of us trotted in for our twice-yearly cleaning and dental check-up. Mamgu, my Welsh mom, accompanied us having arrived just 4 days previously for the Christmas break. After the appointment, on leaving the practice, my mom commented with some awe that she could not see how the hygienist could ever have cleaned my teeth as we seemed to have chatted through the entire appointment. For you see, going to the dentist surprisingly brings me great joy and satisfaction – not so much for the prodding and poking work to be undertaken, but because the family dental practice truly makes us feel as though we are family. Our lives are so rich with wonderful caring people who support our lives and health – dentists, opticians, doctors, pharmacists – but our dental practice is my favourite. They care, they connect and they enfold us with their professional love.
We first met our dentist shortly after arrival in Canada following Cameron’s development of a worrying lump on his neck. As the weeks went by it grew larger and larger until it reached golf ball size. Concerned that it was a tooth abscess, we swiftly located a dentist on our neighbour’s recommendation. This was to be Cameron’s first proper dental appointment. It did not go well. He wriggled and squirmed in the chair, flailed and protested at the prospect of an x-ray and we eventually had to abort the appointment after he inadvertently kicked the dentist in the face while suspended in the dentist’s chair! Such was the calibre of our newly acquired dentist, he did not charge us for the privilege and was gracious enough to phone us the next day to found out how our son was doing. The golf ball-sized lymph node eventually had to be drained with a 3-day incarceration in BC Children’s Hospital; the outing sadly eliminated our first Halloween that had been so excitedly awaited by our uninitiated two and excited parents.
Cameron’s dentist terror emanated from this first interaction and all subsequent appointments (until I put my foot down) had to be made with a paediatric dentist whose inconveniently located office was replete with Mario video games, clouds and fairyland pictures emblazoning the walls and ceilings - and a pricey fee of $120 for a 5 minute check-up. Erin however, has always been the dentist’s and oral hygienist’s delight and was quite happy trotting off to our family practice. She would donne the protective sun-glasses; put on the earphones to watch a movie and never flinched at a prick or scrape of the torturous instruments used. At her final appointment Erin joined me at my own hygienist's session, lying on top of my tummy, reclined back with me to watch cartoons. Even the dental chair offered a bonding mother-and-daughter togetherness and I remember feeling a deep sense of closeness and oneness as the contours of her body engaged with the contours of mine.
While Cameron has held firmly on to his baby teeth, Erin with regularity relinquished hers and has kept our tooth fairy, Annabelle, quite busy. Earlier last year she crafted a little room for Annabelle out of paper, replete with a paper bed and blanket so that she could have a nap after performing her duty of fetching the tooth and depositing the $2 under her pillow. We had a nigh disaster when one of her baby tooth came out in the car while travelling home and got lost in the excitement. On arrival home I helped Erin craft a letter to Annabelle to explain the situation. Annabelle obviously spent some time looking for the tooth for it wasn’t until two days later that she replied saying that the tooth was surely gone; she did leave a reduced amount of $1 under her pillow which seemed to appease Erin (who was never money-minded for herself but loved giving her dollars away to others).
Three days before we lost Erin, she shed her upper right baby tooth. Her adult front teeth had already grown in so they were now surrounded by 2 gaping holes. Annabelle duly visited and deposited the $2 under her pillow, claimed by Erin with delight the next morning. A week later it tore my soul when I came to changing the sheets of the bed to accommodate our houseful of guests to find the sought-after $2 gift from Annabelle lying in the middle of her bed. She’d gone to sleep with it each subsequent night.
Cameron this week had a further appointment to remove two resistant baby teeth. It did not go well. After 4 freezings he was still squirming with pain and the appointment had to be aborted – again – and we will have to return for full sedation later in the month. However, when Cameron’s baby teeth finally do leave his mouth, there is no need for Annabelle to steal stealthily into his room for he has admitted that he believes she does not exist. So a pervading sadness engulfs for Annabelle along with Erin has abruptly departed our home.
And hidden deep in the escritoire, bequeathed to me by grandmother, is a repository of children’s teeth – little baby jewels more precious than diamonds, a testimony to a magical time of suspended belief and wonder.
Time passes so swiftly and these golden moments are gone. We hold these memories tight; we hope through Erin you learn to do so, too.
(see photos below...)