T
The initial sound that reached my ears was a concerning thunk thunk thunk, followed by a muffled cry of pain. My son had fallen down the remaining steps and landed in a friend’s garden. Within microseconds, he let out a piercing scream. I quickly lifted him into my arms, anxiously checking his body to ensure everything was intact. A preliminary examination of his vital parts reassured me that no serious damage had been done, except for a bruised and bleeding lip resembling a 19th-century whaling ship’s bilge well.
I brought him inside, where he left behind a snotty mess on my shoulder that could rival the amount of a lasagne. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I inspected his swollen lip. Thankfully, apart from his diminished confidence in navigating stairs, nothing else seemed harmed.
The bleeding from the welt stopped within a few minutes, and my son tentatively resumed playing. However, when we offered him food, the tears returned, and we noticed that his front left tooth had become slightly longer than its partner, with a small bruise at the gum. Thus, the following morning, my son, his mother, and I found ourselves seated in a dentist’s waiting room, filled with dread for what awaited us.
Knowing that the dentists near us weren’t accepting new patients, which is understandable considering we reside in the capital city of the world’s sixth richest nation where teeth are a luxury, we have been commuting to our previous dentist in Stoke Newington since moving to Walthamstow. Desperately seeking an emergency appointment nearby, we made several calls. One dental practice, located two miles away, mentioned they might be able to squeeze us in but warned of a potentially long wait. I inferred this meant not just bringing a book, but writing one from start to finish, chronicling the life and times of Lyndon B Johnson.
Fortunately, one clinic had just received a cancellation for an emergency appointment. The curiosity surrounding what could cause someone to cancel such an urgent dental visit still bothers me. Nevertheless, we swiftly ushered our son into a white room where a kind dentist explained that the tooth would likely come out naturally and advised us to encourage him to wiggle it occasionally.
Initially crestfallen at the thought of our son’s cherubic face being marred by a pirate-like smile, the dentist reassured us that most children lose one or both front teeth by the age of six. It’s a rite of passage for those who enjoy throwing themselves about like apprentice stuntmen. For the next week, our son would have to follow a soft food diet before undergoing another examination to determine if extraction would be necessary.
Delighted by the attention and rewarded with a Spider-Man sticker, our son’s enthusiasm was further fueled by the fact that a soft food diet excluded all of his least favorite healthy foods. He bounded out of the dentist’s office, on his way to the promised ice-cream shop, with a deep and contented smile. We cherished that smile, knowing it could be with us for as long as possible.
Did Ye Hear Mammy Died? by Séamas O’Reilly is out now (Little, Brown, £16.99). Purchase a copy from
guardianbookshop at £14.78
Follow Séamas on Twitter
@shockproofbeats
Denial of responsibility! VigourTimes is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
