I spent most of last night up with AJ, whose cold rapidly advanced into an ear infection, raging fever, violent vomiting and other pleasantness, all after the closing hours of the pediatrician�s office, naturally. He�s much better this morning, but still a little feverish, so I�m taking him in to get checked out in a little while. He�s currently playing computer games in his dad�s office, a rare treat.

It�s amazing to me how the mom gene takes over everything. I�ve been rather ill myself and am still coughing great body-shaking, wracking coughs that leave me breathless, but when AJ took a turn for the worse, I suddenly felt better: my head cleared and the achiness left me. The psychological component of illness fascinates me. In college I had a remarkable penchant for getting sick on every vacation, as if I waited until I finally had the time to get around to it. My first year of graduate school, the day after I took my last exam, I woke to find my neck swollen to approximately twice its normal size. When I went to the doctor, I was diagnosed with mononeucleosis and a severely swollen liver and spent the next month more or less in bed. Is it that I wasn�t ill until I was finished with my work? Or that I didn�t notice the symptoms? Clearly the mind has some control over such things. Now if only I could just banish these coughs with a thought. It seems I only have the bare minimum of control to get through it all.

AJ, however, doesn�t have any control at all. Illness brings out a sweetness in him that makes the picture of his feverish, sweaty head lying listlessly on his favorite red pillow even more pathetic.

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