It is true that there is a calm before the storm. Yesterday was the calm God knew I needed before the night began. I guess that can be read figuratively, but I mean it literally: last night was a storm. Oh. I'm rolling my eyes now. Here we go, full circle. Yes, there literally was a storm last night that knocked down trees and powerlines, but now I am talking about a figurative storm: Gideon's sickness. The English language can be so entertaining, and I hope I didn't lose any one of you yet. I am loopy from being over-the-top tired. I'll be simple: Last night was horrendous.
Why can we not determine the cause of so many side effects? Why do we not know if pain is caused by a Chemo treatment or the Leukemia itself? As you know, Gideon had jaw and face pain from the disease last night. Well, that "hot spot" spread throughout his body and he woke up at 2 in the morning screaming in agony (again). The pain mostly radiated from his head, so I made a 360 degree ice pack to press on it, but that couldn't calm him. They gave him morphine. Then more morphine. Then he was kicking his legs and said the sharks were eating those, too. I hate you, cancer. I loathe you. I despise you. If you were a person...
I should stop that rant. I'll save it for my private time.
We were having a family slumber party here, because Brody begged Tom and said, "I just want to know what it's like." That was verbatim. So, Tom and I could not say no. Now I wish we had. To protect Brody, Tom whisked him home. I really believed we would have a great night like the one before last, but I'm not in control of this cancer. That is evident. Gideon continued to twist and contort himself into any gymnast-like pose that may offer relief and nothing did. Finally, he fell asleep. He woke up a few moments later and began to throw up. Then he threw up some more. I could tell that this action made the pain even more intense since he couldn't even cry, but shake and moan. His eyes were sockets of electric suffering. I tried to mold myself around him to apply pressure anywhere I could. Finally, he passed out. I would not say "fall asleep" because that brings about the connotation of relaxation and a gentle and calm drift-off. No. This was the body just collapsing into a heap of exhausted and profound torment.
Now, Gideon is still asleep and I can't stop kissing that precious head of his that seems to have the most sinister of all villains making his home inside. I am praying with every kiss that the spot I am kissing can be free of this pain. Is it the cancer? Is it the chemo? No one knows. I guess I don't have to know, I'm supposed to give it up in prayer. I need your help there, please. My heart is about ready to explode for him. You mommies out there know what I'm talking about: those heart bursts. Your little one scrapes his knee: heart burst. He gets made fun of on the bus: heart burst. I feel like I am spontaneously combusting from the sheer quantity of these heart bursts.
...and another one is coming today. The most painful form of chemotherapy at its injection: The DOUBLE DEEP MUSCLE SHOT. Yes. Two humongous shots into his leg muscles at the same time. (more bursts.) Please pray that Gideon is able to handle this pain and it will be quick.
I need to post some sweet videos of him. If you don't know him, you will from these. And you will fall madly in love, I promise.