I can’t imagine other circumstances that would have me calling the family doctor just because my kid has a 100.0 fever.

A refresher here: My daughter Anna is 26 years old and has lived independently (sort of) in her own apartment for more than a year. But now I too have an apartment in the same building. She has cerebral palsy, a result of a stroke at birth. And other health conditions prevented her from striking out on her own until recently, upsetting her plans for college and career.

At 6 p.m. yesterday evening, she called me to report her fever and the beginning of a sore throat. Only one word describes my reaction — fear.

Tylenol brought the fever down to 99.4, bearable. Anna has a history of mysterious fevers, and her neurologist has openly wondered if she might have occasional neurogenic fevers. We’ve never pinned this down, and the sore throat indicates another cause in this instance.

It was too late to reach her doctor. Instead, a nurse on the phone confirmed the cause was likely viral. We looked for a rash, but other than the flushing brought on by the fever, we found nothing unusual. I write this at 6 a.m. — 12 hours after onset — from my own apartment after a fitful sleep last night.

I don’t know what this day will bring.