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October 30, 2015
The phone rings too early, always a bad sign. It's B, telling me with the tight, high voice of barely contained panic that my son is on his way to the ER after fainting in the doctor's office, where he went at my urging because he sounded so sick. From 3,000 miles away, I navigate her calmly to the hospital, the baby sleeping in her car seat. I pace through the day, living off short texts and interrupted phone calls. Not pneumonia, nothing identifiable, probably a nasty virus that's going around. Eventually they send him home to sleep. Phew.