Fatal extraction

I had always thought I shared a very special bond with my eight-year-old granddaughter. Often she would squeeze my hand beneath the table at dinner, and flirt with me outrageously at the drop of a hat. Yes, my blonde haired, blue-eyed skinnymalinks had really captured my heart until just a few weeks ago.

My daughter called one morning. “Pops!” she said. “Do me a favour and collect Debbi after school, then take her for her dental appointment at three.” Of course, I was delighted at the idea, and like the old fool that I am, planned the occasion right down to the very last detail. Dumping her heavy schoolbag into the boot of my car, she greeted me with her usual all-too-familiar greeting. “Hi, Geoffrey. How ya doing huh?”

You know how kids are… she liked calling me by my Christian name, and I lapped it up. “So you are off to your appointment with fear this afternoon Debbi?” I reminded her.
Her young face lit up. “Ha Grandpop, that`s no problem!” After a snack at my place, and having nothing better to do but to entertain my favoruite lady, we both hopped into my car afterwards and paid a visit to our local Milky Bar for a chocolate ice-cream sundae.

Bubbling over with a pure zest for life, Debbi and I fed the ducks on the lake, explored an old car wreckage and gambled on who could produce the loudest whistle. Checking my watch, I realised that it was time for us to make a move. Not showing a morsel of fear we both arrived a few minutes early at the dentist, and waited our turn reading magazines in the reception area.

I was a little perturbed at finding that Debbi was to have an extraction, but heck! If it didn’t worry her, it certainly wasn’t going to worry me. “Are you all right honey?” I enquired.
“Sure Grandpa, no problem!” was her firm reply. I must admit I was more than proud of my brave little girl at that moment. Leaning forward, I gently squeezed her hand thinking that it would instil a little courage should she need it. The sister stood at the doorway to the surgery. “Are you ready Debbi? You are next.”

Hopping off the chair Debbi gave me an enchanting smile, “All ready!” she exclaimed, and was gone. I picked up another magazine and hadn’t read more than a paragraph when I thought I heard a muffled crash. I took no notice as I was certain they had more than one surgery on the go. Seconds later, I heard a scream accompanied by another crash.
The lady sitting opposite me with a little boy beside her didn`t look too pleased. Neither did the receptionist sitting at the switchboard. The next crash definitely came from Debbi`s surgery. The door flung open.

“Mr Kennell, could you please come in for a minute?” For some strange reason the sister`s white uniform had lost most of its buttons down the front and her pretty blonde hair had been badly disarranged. The inside of the clinically white surgery resembled a battlefield. The rinse-and-spit contraption lay lengthwise on the tiled floor and all that remained of the high-speed drill was its base. Stainless-steel forceps were scattered underfoot plus a fair selection of tooth tweakers were strewn everywhere.

My “oh-so-calm” and lovely granddaughter was lovely no more! Head down in that multiposition chair, she fought tooth and nail with a very embarrassed dental surgeon who was doing his level best to subdue her. “Can you hold her still while I administer the anesthetic?” were his precise instructions. I swear she didn’t recognise me in her frenzy, but I managed to hold her reasonably still while the nitrous oxide did its job. After that it was plain sailing.

“Little vixen bit my thumb,” the young man said as I went to apologise. Debbi and I didn`t say much driving home. Holding a pad of cotton wool to her mouth, she still looked like the little angel I knew her to be. With the suggestion of a smile she turned to me. “Grandpa,” she mumbled. “I want to… to…” She hesitated for a moment. My heart did a flip knowing that my grown-up little girl wanted to apologise. “There’s really no need to darling, what happened in there is just between you and I.” I said reassuringly. With my age and my fair experience of femininity I had of course misinterpreted Debbi`s reasoning. To my horror her next words were: “Throw up!”

I don`t know what they put in chocolate ice cream these days, but that large, brown-looking stain on my white lamb’s wool seat cover is a constant reminder of the intricacies and uncertainties that go hand in glove with every woman alive.