By Kelly Schoessling

Entertainment Editor|

When you think of fall, you’re mostly likely to think about bonfires, colorful leaves and jackets to keep warm during the colder weather change.

However after a very long and restless weekend, I will forever associate fall with something else, cold and flu season.

Like any concerned parent, my mom called the doctor’s office and brought me in to see what I was sick with.
Now there should be nothing wrong or out of the ordinary about that… but there’s a catch. Instead of taking me to a normal doctor’s office, my mom brought to the pediatrician. I’m 15 years old and I still see my pediatrician.

I always felt awkward sitting in the waiting room while I waited for one of the nurses to call my name. Having a mural of a cartoon octopus taking a guppy fishes temperature behind me doesn’t exactly help.

You know what’s awkward, standing in line waiting to use the bathroom. You know what’s worse, when everyone else in that line is below 5 feet tall.

Now I like to think that I’m pretty mature. I can handle cartoon paintings on walls, and awkwardly trying to converse with little kids I have nothing in common with other than the fact that we both need to tickle.

The one part of going to the pediatrician I can’t handle though, is the doctors. Now I understand that these people have to work with kids all day, and I’m sure seeing a 15 year old isn’t normal, but I am positive that these doctors are mentally insane.

Something about hearing a grown woman ask you if your “Tum tum” has been hurting you makes you seriously lose a little respect for society.

Up until a few years ago, I never questioned the pediatrician. Once I realized I was getting older I asked my mom about it. Her vague reply was that kids had to be a certain age to go to a real doctor.

After talking to my friends and a five second google search, I realized my mom just doesn’t want to have to deal with transferring my all paperwork.

I know I won’t be trapped at the pediatrician’s forever. Eventually my mom will have to transfer my files to doctor who doesn’t use the term “tum tum”. Until then, I guess I’m stuck with sparkly bandages and smiley face stickers.