The Placebo Effect

My son Jamie had a great field trip scheduled for Wednesday, a two-hour Wendella Boat Tour of the Chicago River and Lake Michigan in downtown Chicago.

Wendella Boat

While excited, Jamie was concerned about getting sea sick: A child who has only vomited five times in his entire short life, he HATES it and I would go as far as say he has a phobia about it.

Jim and I explained the concept of motion sickness, and that neither of us was ever bothered when we spent time on the water, whether it was a cruise ship or the time we went yachting on Lake Michigan and got caught in a gale force storm. While everyone around us turned green and clung to anything vertical, Jim and I sat and enjoyed the wet version of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

Not convinced heredity was on his side, Jim further explained the size of the boat would not equate to that much rocking movement, and as someone who could ride every rollercoaster and sickly-spinning ride, Jamie had never demonstrated any version of motion sickness.

To be safe, Jamie asked, could he please wear a motion-sickness patch like his friend had when he went on a boat for the first time. I was uncomfortable giving Jamie an over-the-counter medication that might have worse side effects than the motion sickness he feared, but I agreed to have our pediatrician give Jamie a patch.

And then I lied. I told Jamie I called our doctor and she gave me a capsule form of a motion sickness drug. Rather than wearing what looked like a circle band aid, we would simply need to break open the golden caplet I stuck in a prescription bottle and rub it on his neck in the same place we would have placed the patch.

Obviously pleased and relieved that he would not suffer sea sickness, he went to bed happily and chattering about what a cool day he was going to have in the city with his friends.

He awoke an hour early Wednesday morning, unable to contain his excitement. His first question was if Dad had picked up his prescription the night before, and I crossed my fingers and said that he had.

We packed Jamie’s sack lunch, extra snacks, a disposable camera and a hoodie just in case the weather turned cool. Just before he walked out the door, I broke open the magic caplet and applied the sea sickness medication (a.k.a. anti-wrinkle cream for my very expressive face) behind his left ear. A quick kiss and he was gone, secure in the fact that he would not barf.

Chicago's Skyline

Jamie was so fascinated by the boat tour that he said he never ate his lunch. His favorite part of the day was when the boat moved from the Chicago River to Lake Michigan through the Chicago Lock. He ticked off the names of his favorite buildings (Marina Towers, shaped like corn cobs, cracked him up), and he used every available picture in his camera.

“How was your stomach?” Jim asked.

“The water was really still in the river, but it got a little bumpy on the lake. But the stuff worked, and my stomach felt fine! No barfing!”

“Want to know a secret?” I asked him, and he looked at me quizzically. “You weren’t wearing sea sickness medicine behind your ear, you were wearing my wrinkle cream. Dad and I knew you wouldn’t get sick, but we also knew you wouldn’t believe us, so we fooled you. Congratulations, you don’t get sea sick.”

Jamie looked at us and laughed. “I thought I saw those things in Mom’s drawer before, but I wasn’t sure. That’s pretty funny.”

I’m not sure if these caplets are doing my eyes any favors, but a dime-size section of Jamie’s neck looks absolutely fabulous.