That's right, I feel awful. I have a 102 temperature and feel like my stuffed Thomas the Train ran right over me. My parents got so worried they even took me to the clinic, where they did the following:
- Weighed me, and then had a double take while adjusting KGs to LBs and realizing I weighed 16lb, 15oz. I'm like a Thanksgiving Turkey, but thankfully without the giblets.
- Looked in my ears and nose, presumably making sure I hadn't stuffed any loose change in there hoping that a soda would come out of my mouth
- Checked all of my fingers and toes to make sure I didn't have what's called a hair tourniquet. This is when your mom's long hair gets twisted around an extremity and cuts of the blood flow. It's also what saved one of the characters in Casualties of War, but in that case he never actually removed the hair from the vietnamese prostitute before using it.
- Inspected my poop. These are the things they don't tell you when med schools come for campus recruiting.
In the end, the just opined that I just needed rest and fluids, and didn't have anything more exotic, like a reaction to one of my vaccinations, or a parasitic jungle disease (but they didn't ask me if I'd been to a jungle lately).
So that's what my parents are giving me - lots of fluids, some fitful sleep, and a showering of attention. And to keep my fever down, they're putting a cool towel on my head like this!
I'm convinced that so much of keeping good health is your diet. I've been on a steady diet of breast milk, which clearly is giving me all the calories I need. But I've started to acquire a taste for meat:
One more thing - let's all give a huge wahoowah for the UVA tennis and lacrosse teams, both of whom made it to the NCAA semifinals this coming week! Go hoos, from your best mini-fan!
Love, Spencer
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