Rossiter's Relativity Theory of Pediatric Wellness

I think I have found the next subject I'm going to start querying about to major publications in the print media. This one is sure to get me national coverage--medical stories are hot these days. I've formulated my own medical theory about kids. Taking after the proven scientific method, this theory isn't original; rather, an examination of thoughts considered over many years and summarized so well, that someone can just step up and take claim to it. It's my turn in the spotlight everyone. Rossiter's Relatvity Theory of Pediatric Wellness. Sounds all technical and snazzy. The basic concept, though, is very simple: Sick children show increased signs of improving health the closer the proximity to the doctor's office. This theory will probably not be looked upon with favor from the pediatric pharmecuetical companies--after all, it could put them out of business. Why dump a ton of money on Children's Tylenol(tm), Advil(tm), Triaminic(tm) and all that other stuff? Hell, my kids don't even have to be seen by a doctor. I could avoid the co-pays altogether. According to my theory, I simply drive up to the pediatrician's office, walk inside and sit in the waiting area. My kids are cured! Miraculous. I have a long list of documentation to support my theory, but in the interest of time (and your sanity), I will provide only one example to support my case: I drove down to Portland to pick up Mary and her son, Micah, from the airport . Erin's in her booster seat, listening to her Dora the Explorer CD. Typically, this kid talks non-stop. She was practically silent the entire 40-minute trip. "You ok, Erin?" "My tummy hurts." [SIDENOTE:To show my non-biasedness, I will concede that Erin has hypochondriactic tendencies. This is the only kid I know who LIKES going to the doctor and usually has no issue with taking medication. Most times, when she says she has a boo-boo or is "sick", she's messing with us] Something about her today, though, seemed off. Still, other than being quiet, she seemed ok. We got to the airport and waiting for the plane's arrival. "Mommy, my tummy hurts." I patted her head and told her all would be fine. Well, by the time we picked up our friends and got to the car, Erin was pale, crying hysterically, grabbing her stomach and saying, "OW! OW!". WTF? We load her and Micah in the car and the crying doesn't stop. I'm sure my friends are thinking, "This is our welcome to Maine?" Erin starts to hyperventilate slightly at this point. I make a call to the pedicatrician's office. The plan is to take her there on our way back. The closer we get to Auburn, the quieter she becomes. By the 3/4 mark, she's asleep. I decided to let sleeping kids alone and we go home. She's fine for 10 minutes and the crying and clutching starts again. Then, she spikes a fever. After almost 8 years of being a mom (and over 34 years of being the daughter of a nurse), I start to wonder if we're dealing with appendicitis. After giving Erin some Mylanta and some Advil(tm), I make another call. "Bring her in," they said. We left my friends at our house, so I can cart Erin over to the doctor's office. The closer we get, the more color she has, the more animated she becomes. She makes a charming entrance to the office area--smiling, talking, and seeming pretty damn healthy. I'm convinced that one of these days, I'm gonna get arrested for being one of those people who keep claiming their kids is sick, but isn't. The doctor examines Erin as she giggles. I feel somewhat vindicated that he's pressing on her stomach and says he's checking for an inflamed appendix. Also, she has a low grade temp (is it ok for a mom to be relieved that for once, the kid has a temp when I say she does?). The good news: Erin's appendix is just fine. The bad news: She seems to have a mighty big case of gas. Erin gets her sticker and we're on our way home. "Mommy, I was sooooooo good!" she tells me with a beaming expression. All I can do is shake my head. Now, my stomach hurts, and I don't even get a sticker. But, maybe one day, I'll get a Nobel prize or something for my theory. I'm sure there are other parents out there who have stories to support my theory! Back me up on this one, will you?