When Voncile Shipps got home from work two Thursdays ago, she noted the usual evidence that it was a scorcher. There was no water pressure in her brick flat on Chicago's South Side, since the local kids had opened the fire hydrants. There was some water in a kettle, though, which she cooled with ice and gave to her bedridden son David, 41. "He seemed fine," Shipps says, so she went out to a gathering at her church. When she returned, David was not fine. "His voice had changed," she says; he was too weak to hold a glass. Shipps called...
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