Those of you who are mothers know the particular pains and struggles that having a sick child cause.  These continue as long as one is alive, and when your children and you live in the same city, they are up close and personal.

Monday, Briton called, saying he had been throwing up all day, was achy all over, and had a fever of 103 degrees.  Both of his housemates were gone, and there was no Gatorade or chicken soup or saltines or anything pseudo-medicinal in the house.

I went to Kroger, made a delivery to him, stayed for a little while (we Southerners are well-trained in sitting with sick people), then kissed him on the forehead as I left.  (A mom trick to double-check temperature.)

Today, I'm at 101 degrees, with stomach cramps, pain in my joints, and a thumping headache.  Briton's limping back to work tonight;  let's see how long this thing keeps me down.


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