May 12, 1992

JoAnna walks back into the bedroom holding Eddie.

"I think we have a sick little guy on our hands."

Eddie has a fever.  She suggests we take him to Ginger Ail, but I volunteer to stay home.

"I have a meeting this morning that I don't have to attend, and I was planning to take off the afternoon anyway."

Eddie's fever stays within the 103 to 105 all day, although by the early afternoon he perks up.  During the morning he's lethargic and clinging when he's not asleep.  So when I take his temperature after lunch, I'm unpleasantly surprised to find that it's still over 103.

JoAnna returns home in time for me to get to the library before 5.  The board meets, and there are a few strange interludes:  Gail's clarification of her request to report grant expenditures, my rambling automation progress report, an unrehearsed explanation of circulation policy changes.  I stay at the library until 11, preparing the minutes, writing letters to the Education Section program panelists, eliminating the clutter from the top of my desk, photocopying articles on the L.A. riots.

Eddie's in bed with mom; he's wide awake but still looking a little feverish.  Actually, he feels disconcertingly warm.  I carry him to his bed but then can't fall asleep as I imagine him burning to a crisp.  He does fall asleep but wakes up fussing shortly after one.  Now he's hotter than a Bessemer furnace, much to his screaming displeasure.  He quickly cools down, literally and figuratively.  We keep him in bed with us, which results in a poor night's sleep for me.