I'm not a doctor, and I don't play one on TV. However, after 25+ years of motherhood, I have some pretty well-honed instincts when it comes to my children being ill. Andrew used to run a temp of 105 when he got tonsillitis, and a 101 with an ear infection--he got boils before a viral infection. Craig used to break out in hives, which signaled a fever coming on within the hour. Now that he is a teenager, I can usually nail him when he's looking for a free day (post-nasal drip has a nasty side effect on him in the mornings; the rule is no fever, no home time).
Matt doesn't usually get too sick, so when he told his coach he didn't feel well and didn't want to play yesterday, I knew he was miserable. Even so, he was well enough for a few hours in the evening for me to go out with my friend Michelle to catch up on a few things. As we were sipping our adult beverages, we BOTH got calls that our youngest were a bit under the weather. I dropped her off and home and went in for a few minutes to chat. As she hunted for her thermometer, I used the mom-mometer on young Tyler, which pointed to a temp of about 99.5 (he was warm, but not hot).
When I got home, Matt was to the "hot" stage. Before I stuck in the thermometer, my mom-mometer said he was at 100.5. His dad scoffed at my medieval techniques. When all was said and done, the highly sensitive digital device registered Matt at 100.6. Let's hear it for the mom! I don't think Ohio or Michigan will grant me a medical license any time soon, but my maternal instincts are pretty spot on.
Matt recovered quickly--he managed to play a double header today, and smacked a BEE-YOU-TEE-FULL double over the center fielder's head in game one. A little TLC goes a long way. (And Craig, if you read this, I'm wishing you well on your trip to Boston--out of sight is not out of mind).
Now, I'm off to enjoy a couple days of rest and relaxation.