I tottered out to the car in a sort of daze. No need to tell the boys I had had a tough time. Children instinctively know these things

The dentist exclaimed: “Uh huh!” after the failure of the third attempt. “Well, I’ll give you the alternatives: – one, I put you on a course of penicillin to clear up the infection that is keeping the tooth from freezing. “You can come back in a week and have it out; – two, I’ll yank it out now! The pain will be intense for a moment or two but that will be all the time it takes.”

“I’ll have it out now,” I said after a short hesitation. I had my doubts about it coming out as easily as all that. I was a coward at the dentist but when would I get back?

“Ready?” he asked, sounding confident. I nodded assent but my inner voice hadn’t been wrong. The tooth wouldn’t budge – no way!

Then it began to break off in bits. I could hear it cracking.

“This is the toughest tooth I ever came across,” the dentist said, taking another lunge at it.

Slowly, slowly and very painfully I could feel it beginning to move. My hands were practically squeezing the arms of the dental chair out of existence.

Triumphant

He gave a triumphant yell, holding his pincers up to the light to see what he had got. A sympathetic man, well aware of my pain, he was also shaking. “Is that it?” I asked weakly. “I wish it were,” he answered. “I’m afraid that’s just one root but at least it’s a start. There are three other roots to come out yet. Do you think you can stand it?”

My spirits plummeted but I nodded. What would be the use of stopping now? He began to pull again. This time I didn’t feel it quite so much. The removal of the one root had let the freezing in to a certain extent and it wasn’t quite so painful.

Otherwise, with what was to follow, I might not have been here to tell the tale.

Every so often in his efforts to remove the remaining three roots, the dentist would rest from his labours, saying: “Of course, if I’d known this was going to happen, I never would have started!”

This statement didn’t cheer me greatly. Eventually there was another yell of triumph and another twisted root was held up for inspection.

“Only two to go now,” he said, trying to sound lighthearted. I noticed he was sweating. Inwardly I groaned and not without reason. These last two roots would not budge.

“Looks like I’m gonna be beat after all,” he said. “I’ll have to take X-rays, I think, to see what’s holding them back. How are you feeling? You’ve been marvellous, you really have!”

“Not bad,” I lied but he must have seen the disappointment in my face.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “Just before I take these X-rays, I’ll try one more thing. I’ll use my little electric saw and separate the roots. If I’m successful that might help.”

This new form of torture worked. Eventually he got both roots out separately. The reason for their obstinacy was revealed. Both were badly twisted and hooked.

“The worst tooth of its kind I ever did see,” he said, adding again: “Of course if I had foreseen this, I would never have started!”

Protective

Battered but unbowed, I was jubilant. “You’re sure you’ll be all right now?” the dentist asked anxiously. “Will you manage to drive home after your ordeal? How far have you got to go?” “Not far,” I assured him. “I’ll manage, thank you.” I tottered out to the car in a sort of daze. No need to tell the boys I had had a tough time. Children instinctively know these things.

Richard especially, for all his tender years, was most solicitous.

“Just wait ’til you feel all right, Mummy, before you start driving,” he said, sounding much older than his years and using the protective caring sort of voice his father would have used had he been present.

“Never mind the sweets today, we’ll get them another day,” he continued.

Tears of relief trickled down my cheeks, tears of love also for the kindness of people and the thoughtfulness of children that made everything worthwhile.

“The Queen is coming to Sandyhills,” Mandy and Susan burst in with this information one Saturday morning in July.

I was taken by surprise. “How exciting,” I said. “When?” “Next week,” said Mandy, “and it’s going to be great fun. There’s to be a public holiday and everyone’s arranging all sorts of things.

“It’ll be like Stampede Day all over again and something more, we’ll all have flags to wave.” Mandy babbled on.

“Who’s the Queen?” Ronnie piped up. “She’s the Queen, silly,” said Michael, while Richard, in the role of more knowledgeable elder brother, tried to give some sort of explanation.

The thoughts going through my head were strange. For Ronald and me the outside world had slipped into the background.

We were too busy existing to take much notice or interest in what went on outside. We got no daily newspaper.

Criticism

Occasionally we listened to the radio and had heard that the Queen and Prince Philip were touring the Western Provinces but they covered such a huge area that we had not considered the possibility of them visiting

On the radio there had been a certain amount of criticism about the Royal visit.

Some Canadians, especially those belonging to ethnic groups other than British, were out and out opposed to it.

They saw it as a kind of domination by Britain, albeit a slight one and didn’t want to be part of it. They felt totally Canadian and proud of it.

Others, again, didn’t mind. It made them feel different and their strongest desire was to be thought of as separate from the Americans.

Opinions being so mixed made some commentators on the radio sceptical about the whole affair.

One had been very critical of the Queen when she had an unscheduled day off in some far northern place. She was sick.

“The poor Queen,” I commented to Ronald but it was a passing thought remote from the world I lived in. And now, according to Mandy, she was coming to Sandyhills.

(More tomorrow.)