Alternative Medicine

My daughter is due to provide a wonderful, childless couple with the ultimate Mother’s Day present in about two weeks. I can’t say enough about open adoption (or closed adoption either, for that matter). Has this made me less ruthless with the “lies” I tell her? Hardly. Her pregnancy worries provided me with lots of opportunities like this:

LAUREN
I’m craving onion bagels and the store is out of them!

NICOLE
You can’t eat onion bagels anyway.

LAUREN
Why not?

NICOLE
It has to do with the way they are prepared. It’s not good for the baby.

LAUREN
You’re lying.

NICOLE
No, I’m serious. Ask your doctor, or look it up online.

And she continues to fall for my stories and walk into my setups, always with grace and a well-developed ability to laugh at herself.

Two weeks ago, she asked me what she could do about her swollen feet and ankles. First, I gave her authentic advice and told her to see her doctor if it didn’t get better. Then, I told her not to get freaked out if she had to have “that more aggressive treatment—for the life of me, I can’t remember what it’s called” and began to describe a 12-inch square platform covered with surgical steel pins that was similar to a bed of nails. I explained that the doctor would place it beneath her feet as she sat at the end of the examination table, and then help her stand upright in such a way that her weight would be evenly distributed across the pins. When Lauren said she really hoped she didn’t have to have the treatment, I further reassured her that it was not at all painful, comparing it this time to the interactive Pin Art toy.

Lauren took my initial advice. The next morning, she reported that the swelling had gone down and that she was scheduled to see the doctor three days later, anyway.

NICOLE
Would you do me a favor? When you see the doctor, will you ask what that treatment is called? I still can’t remember, and I even tried Googling the description so I could send you the information, but I couldn’t find it.

LAUREN
Okay. I tried to find it on Google, too.

NICOLE
Thanks. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t remember the name. You know how I get.

LAUREN
I’ll ask on Thursday.

It was a long three days, and I have to admit that it didn’t go down quite the way I’d hoped. When I casually asked Lauren if she’d learned the name of the treatment, she said that the doctor had never heard of it. I pried a little more, to see how the conversation went and, sure enough, Lauren had tried describing it (“It’s not acupuncture.”) only to be met with, “No, I’ve never heard of anything like that.” If the doctor had suppressed laughter or given Lauren funny looks, it had been completely lost on her.

NICOLE
At any point in the conversation, did your doctor say, “Does your mom like to mess with you?”

LAUREN
No. Why?

NICOLE
Because I made it up. It was supposed to be a “cantaloopy” thing.

LAUREN
Oh. You’re a dork, Mom.

Yes, yes I am.