Emma Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice (4 page)

Mia clapped her hands gleefully. “I love it! Pure-white, innocent, bridal-looking cupcakes on lace, and when you bite into them, all that red blood dripping down your chin!”

Ugh. “When you put it that way . . . ,” I said, my stomach turning over suddenly.

“Oh, Em, don't worry. It will only be raspberry or cherry or something! Plus, you'll be much better after my mom's training session,” said Katie, patting my arm and smiling.

“I sure hope so,” I replied.

I couldn't be worse.

I
suffered through the week of Jake's bad behavior and my parents' pathetic reactions to it, and then it was Saturday and time to go to Katie's for my “training.” The others were going to be there too, because they wanted to bake some samples for Jake's big send-off for him to try later.

When I got to Katie's, Dr. Brown was ready and waiting, and she greeted me with a hug and a big smile. I was so nervous, I was shaking, even though, obviously, she wasn't going to do anything to me. I mean, I was pretty sure she wasn't going to give me a shot or anything. We were supposed to just talk in her study while the others worked in the kitchen. Or that's what she told my mom, who thought it was a great idea.

“I'll have a treat for you, after,” promised Katie.

“Great,” I said weakly, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Thanks.”

I slowly walked down the carpeted back hall to Dr. Brown's study, and she told me to sit on the sofa and to just relax.

“So, Emma, I understand you're nervous around needles and blood,” she began.

I nodded. “Anything medical, really. Or dental,” I added. “Or the eye doctor.”

Dr. Brown looked thoughtful. “Have you always felt this way, or is it a new fear?” she asked kindly.

I had to think about that for a minute. “Well, I've always been nervous about it, but it's gotten worse. And the fainting is new. It's like . . . I know what's coming, and I dread it, so it happens.”

“You mean the fainting?” Dr. Brown prompted.

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you ever been told you might have low blood pressure?” she asked.

“Well, the nurse always says ‘very good' when she takes off the cuff.”

Dr. Brown chuckled. “The reason I ask is that most people who faint do it because their blood pressure drops; if you have low blood pressure to begin with, it doesn't have far to drop before you're
out! I'll ask your mom later, because there are special things you can do to combat it from that angle, like drinking a lot of fluids before you go.”

“Okay,” I said.

“But that's the physical part. Mentally, there are quite a few tools you can use to arm yourself against medical stress and fainting. I call the most important ones the ‘three
D
s': desensitize, deep breathing, and distraction.”

I nodded.

“ ‘Desensitize' means to get used to something, so you're not as sensitive to it. One way to do that is to expose you to the stressor—whatever makes you nervous—over and over again, until it becomes routine. For instance, I have some patients come and sit in the chair, and we do a mini cleaning for maybe five minutes, and that's it. Just so they can get used to the process, the setting, the instruments, the smells and sounds of everything. Once you get used to something, and it becomes familiar, it loses its novelty and your body doesn't react to it as strongly the next time. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” I replied. “It sounds like a lot of work, though.”

Dr. Brown laughed. “It is, but you don't take a lot of time each session, and it pays off, big time. The
next tactic, the deep breathing, is self-explanatory. Part of our reaction when we get nervous is to freeze up, to tighten our chest, and to take shallow breaths. This is actually the opposite of what your body needs when you are trying to calm down. What you need is to take slow, long, deep breaths. Let's try it. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She inhaled slowly and deeply through her nose, and I copied her. Then she let it out through her pursed lips, like she was blowing soap bubbles. We did it a few times, and though I was a little wobbly at first, my breathing did steady somewhat after a few tries.

“Good! You're a fast learner!” said Dr. Brown, clapping for me.

“Wow, I'm a great breather!” I joked. “There's a skill.”

“Oh, but it is,” Dr. Brown insisted. “If you can control your breathing, you can control your reaction to almost anything. That's what meditation is all about, actually. But, anyway, the third
D
is ‘distraction.'  You need to use everything you've got to keep your mind thinking about other stuff while you're being subjected to your stressors—needles or blood or what have you. So, an iPod, a book, chewing gum, a squeeze ball—anything that takes
even part of your attention away from the situation is good.”

“My dentist does that. They set up a movie for me to watch. But I still get stressed!” I said. “So I guess the distraction thing really doesn't work for me.”

Dr. Brown bit her lip thoughtfully. “Well, there are a couple of possibilities. For one, you need to switch up the distractions, so that they really do distract you. Some things work better than others, and some you just get used to and they lose their novelty. Also, if you're starting to work yourself up as soon as you get to the doctor or dentist's office, you're almost coming in too late with the distractor. Your body is already in its fight-or-flight response. Your heart is beating fast, the adrenaline is coursing through your system, your senses are heightened, your sinuses are clear, and your reflexes are twitching and raring to go.”

“Yup, that sounds like me in the waiting room!” I said, laughing darkly.

“So you need to sequence things right. Start with desensitizing. You can come to my office and practice some of that if you'd like. Next, distract. Then, deep breath. I promise you it all takes just a small effort, but the payoff is huge. And I'll share
my very last tip with you. It's kind of a silly one, but it does work. Think of someone you admire—someone practical, no-nonsense, successful—and picture them in the same situation and how they'd handle it.”

I thought for a minute, and besides my parents, I actually came up with Mona, from The Special Day. She is all of those things and more, and someone I admire. I tried to picture her in the dentist chair or getting her blood drawn and I had to smile.

Dr. Brown smiled back at me. “Good! I can see you've got someone!”

I nodded. “It's Mona from the bridal store. I have to giggle picturing her. In the store she's always saying things are ‘divine,' so now I'm picturing her in the dentist's chair saying, ‘Divine! Divine!' ”

“ ‘Divine' is good!” cried Dr. Brown, clapping her hands. “That should be your new motto. It makes you giggle, and it reminds you of someone you admire. I love it!”

I grinned. “Thanks for all this,” I said.

“It is absolutely my pleasure,” said Dr. Brown. “And you're smart to tackle this while you're young. I can't tell you how many adults I treat who've let their fears grow so large that it dominates them and compromises their health. They put off cleanings
and checkups and dental work, all because they're nervous, and in the long run, they suffer. A healthy fear of danger is one thing, but nerves are another. If nerves rule your life, you'll miss out!”

It was true. Now I felt inspired, like I could fight any battle. I stood up. “Okay! I wish I was going to get a shot right now,” I declared. “I'm all fired up!”

“Great!” said Dr. Brown with a smile. “Just remember the four
D
s: desensitize, deep breathing, distracting, and . . . ?”

“Divine!” I said, laughing.

We walked back to the kitchen, where everyone was happily working.

“How did it go?” asked Katie, her look of concern lightening when she saw that we were smiling.

“Very well!” said Dr. Brown. “Emma's a natural.”

“Good,” said Katie, relieved.

“I knew you'd tackle it!” called Mia from the other side of the kitchen.

“And, remember, I can fit you in any time for a five-minute cleaning. Maybe one day this week?” asked Dr. Brown.

“Thanks,” I said. “I'll tell my mom to set it up.”

“Okay, time for your prize, just like I promised!” singsonged Katie. She went to the pantry and came
back with a cupcake on a plate. It was a yellow cupcake, and she had piped the words “Your Prize” on it. She handed it to me. “They're called Brave Butterscotch cupcakes. I originally invented them for Jake, but I think you've earned it instead!”

“Thanks, Katie. Yum!” I peeled the wrapper and began to eat it right there and then, suddenly ravenous after my session with Dr. Brown.

“Hey, what about me?” asked Dr. Brown.

“I have one for you too!” Katie went to get it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in a kind of bake-off, with each of my friends trying to create something that Jake would love. It was semi-annoying to me. Only “semi” because I was touched that my friends cared so much about my little brother; “annoying” because he is.

Katie made everyone laugh when she said she wanted to bake Jake a special cupcake that was sugar and spice and everything nice, because that's what little boys are made of. But Mia pointed out that the rhyme says that's what little girls are made of, while boys are made of snips and snails and puppy dog's tails. Katie's face was priceless.

“What? No,” she said, sure of herself.

But Mia shook her head, and Alexis and I backed her up, laughing our heads off.

“But we can't do snail cupcakes. It would ruin our reputation,” said Alexis.

“Not to mention our baking equipment!” I said with a shudder.

But Katie said, “Oh whatever! I'm making him something sugary and spicy, anyway.”

“Well, then, maybe it will help, because he's sure not nice!” I declared.

That evening Dr. Brown dropped the Cupcakers and me off at my house with a platter of samples for Jake, so he could choose which cupcake he liked best for his party. Alexis also had the platter of vampire samples, because she and her mom would be dropping them off on their way home later for the bachelorette's hostess to approve. Matt and Sam were both home, and they instantly began to hover once they discovered what we had for Jake. But Mia slapped their hands away and went to get Jake from the TV room.

Jake strolled in like a prince, and the girls eagerly began describing what they'd made, each one lobbying hard for her own idea, like we were in a bake-off or something.

“See, Jakey, these are Snickerdoodles,” said Katie, pushing one toward him. “They have cinnamon,
like cookies, and a cream cheese frosting. Sugar and spice and everything nice!” She smiled encouragingly.

“But these Monster cakes are the best ones, really,” said Mia, edging her creations forward on the platter. “They're much bigger, and they're fudgy chocolate with chunks of chocolate inside them, and the frosted cupcakes are dunked in chocolate sprinkles!”

Jake's eyes widened.

“Try mine first, though!” said Alexis. “They're P-B-and-Js, with peanut butter frosting. The perfect kid's cupcake; no adults allowed!”

“Dude, you are one lucky little man,” said Sam as he sat on a kitchen stool and surveyed all the offerings. “Anything you don't want, I'll have.”

Across the counter, Jake spied the plate of vampire cupcakes. “What are those?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh, these are samples for another client. A lady who's getting married,” said Alexis dismissively.

Jake eyed them. “Are they just vanilla vanilla, like you make for Mona?” he asked.

Mia's eyes lit up. “Yes, but there's a big surprise inside! He can try one, can't he?” she asked, turning to the rest of us.