Turns out, I do have pneumonia.
After a sobbing session yesterday in which I had convinced myself that I had given a possibly-deadly disease to my child (who shows no symptoms whatsoever after having been around me for five days of illness), I have resigned myself to the fact that, sometimes I will make her sick. And sometimes she will make me sick. And sometimes one of us will get sick and the other family members won't, and - apart from the stuff we already do, like washing our hands and not licking each other's faces (much) - there's not much we can do to control this.
Also, it could be worse. One of my best friends lost her home in the wildfires in Austin. She and her dog got out, but other than that, she lost nearly everything else. Pneumonia is no fun, but neither is replacing everything you own and finding someplace else to live while still trying to work and live your life.
It is what it is, as they say.
(But please, don't let my baby get pneumonia. Amen.)