Soapbox

Laughter is the Best Medicine

January 8th, 1997
So I’ve got this kid…and he’s been having a problem with stomach aches lately.
Now this is the classic, there’s-a-problem-at-school complaint, right? Several mornings this year he’s gone off to school fine, then called me shortly after he gets there to come and get him. I bring him home and put him in bed with a bedtray and some school work. He cheerfully does his assignment, has a light lunch and I take him back to school, no further problems. Until the next time. I’ve quizzed him about tests, bullies, conflicts with teachers, but he says there’s nothing wrong.
Before Christmas break he was “sick” again, and when the kids were home in the afternoon I heard him ask his sister, “Did you guys have a fire drill this morning?”
“No.”
“Oh no, that means they will have it tomorrow.”
I thought I detected a stomach ache coming on, so we sat down to talk.

“I just hate fire drills, Mom. I’m sitting there doing my math and all of a sudden there is all this noise and people jumping up and I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”
“Are you afraid that there is a real fire, Stephen? Or that someone will get hurt? Do the teachers yell?”
No, he just doesn’t like being startled.
I advised him to go to his teacher first thing the next morning and ask her if she could please tell him what time the fire drill will be so that he won’t be so surprised and upset when the bell goes off.
Ted devised a more long-term strategy that he has been working on over Christmas break. When the kids least expect it, he will suddenly burst into the room, banging on a pot with a wooden spoon and shouting, “Bathroom drill!” or “Bedtime drill! Bedtime drill!” The kids are supposed to drop whatever they are doing and rush to their designated area. For instance, in a bathroom drill they each have to run to a different toilet and then wash their hands and stand at attention until the drill is over.
The kids love these drills because they are so silly and so random, and they laugh so hard they nearly fall down during them. The other day, Katie was doing something that was driving Stephen crazy. Instead of yelling at her, he shouted, “Annoying sister drill! Annoying sister drill! Everyone run to your room and shut the door so she can’t come in!” which, giggling, is what he did.
I bless his father for remembering that humor is the way to get past any obstacle with Stephen. He professes to be not afraid of fire drills any more. Lets hope the stomach aches are a thing of the past.

It’s just one thing after another with some kids. So far we seem to be getting through the talking mannequins and the fire drills and, oh yes, the fear of heart attack. After they saw the movie “I Am Joe’s Heart” in health class, I found him in the hall one night, trying not to cry, saying, “Mom, I think maybe I’m having a heart attack.” It was 2 in the morning.
I wanted to say, “Oh, for crying out loud, Stephen, go back to bed. You’re 10 years old! That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” I could see by the look on his face that this was a real fear, though.
I got on my knees in front of him and took his hand and placed it on my heart.
“Stephen,” I said solemly, “I swear to you, on my heart, that your heart is just fine. Your brain is playing tricks on you, and you’re believing what it says. Remember how your brain makes your stomach hurt when you want to get away from a fire drill? Well, it is making your heart thump like crazy because you are afraid of a heart attack, not because you are having one.
The doctor listens to your heart every time he sees you, honey, and your heart is in great shape. It’s strong enough to put up with a few dirty tricks from your brain, too. So tell your brain to knock it off, and go back to bed.”

So he did, and hasn’t said anything more about it, but I hope he’s not just repressing fears. How do you know when you’ve done it right? I’ve read Dr. Spock from cover to cover. I need a degree in child psychology to raise this child. He’s going to give me a heart attack some day.
And to think that when he was a baby, I thought things would be easier when he got older!