Colors

If I could paint Gideon's soul it would be in all shades of yellow, but mostly sunshine yellow. It's true that he has that yellow hair. I don't call it blonde. That is too dull of a word. He has yellow, halo-shining hair. Every single time I go into the clinic, nurses and doctors comment on the fact that he still has it. If you were to brush through it, you would see bald spots underneath, but it is still there. The downey chick soft curls distract attention until the brilliant yellow that is Gideon permeates your heart into melted yellow butter. It happens. Ask anyone who has even talked to this boy. He is my yellow man. Even when his hair is gone, I'm certain that warmth that you feel while sitting next to a window on a sunny day in winter will still emanate out of Gideon. He warms straight through.

I, on the other hand, have had the colors of me significantly faded. I am kind of falling apart, and I am lucky to have my sunshine yellow son and my calming blue boy son to patch quilt my persona back into something recognizable. I had a sinus infection which I ignored (besides dowsing it with a Netti Pot) and that turned into an ear infection. I spent Saturday at the clinic getting medicine (and refusing to sit in the waiting room...sickies were everywhere!). The nurse came and got me from outside and I wore a mask the entire time I was there. I was separated from my family once due to illness, I don't want to be quarantined again! The very last thing on this planet that I ever worry about is what others think. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing... I have the medicine now, and I am praying that I can get back into the groove of life soon. It is no fun being humdrum and blah. None at all.

I have been going into my classroom to clean up the pit that was my room every night this past week. As soon as Tom has gotten home, I have shipped out. We found out Gideon had cancer the day after I was done teaching, and I was planning on using my Records Days/Professional Development days the following week to organize and clean. Yikes. That didn't happen. I was beyond my limit worried and paranoid that it would never be ready in time for school to start. Then, I got the phone call. My saint-of-a-principal (I'm not kissing up, it's TRUE!) Derek Wheaton called and said the MIRACLE WORKER parapros wanted to come in and set up my room for me. Just when I was on the verge of a major panic attack (not even kidding), this is what I found out. I hung up and sobbed and cried over the sheer beauty that is my staff (mingled with sniffles of relief). You people have been such an amazing support network for me. I adore you. I can never-ever thank you enough. You will all have a bagel in your hands on the first day of school. Yes. You give me solace and love and peaceful thoughts and cards and prayers and miracles and furniture and comforters... I will give you a bagel in return. Doesn't quite balance, but something must be done to thank you. The Polish Mommy in me repays in food, even though I can never repay you. Not ever.

Gideon has started getting his every-ten-days chemo in his port on Thursday. Every dosage of Vincristine and Methotrexate will gradually build and get more potent with each visit. He has also been put on an appetite-inducer since he has lost so much weight (talk about a life of extremes). This new chemo isn't really new, it was the stuff they used to put into his spine and now he gets it in his port. He also gets more nauseous from this new method, so we are on some heavy anti-nausea meds as well. The Vincristine is the stuff that makes him feel like he's walking on needles and makes his knees weak. He is waddling again. This also has to do with the fact that he had a major spill outside and his knees were very scraped up. Those scrapes aren't healing as quickly as a "normal" boy, and it just reminds me of his acute fragility. Gideon: My little piece of yellow crystal.