I've said it before, but I must repeat myself: Gideon's attitude and perspective blows me away. I fed him toast for breakfast yesterday morning and a few minutes later he made it to the puke bowl on his own and in time. I automatically feel my heart sink into the pit of my stomach when I hear him getting sick. It gets dunked straight into the gastric acids and begins to disintegrate away, layer by layer. Gideon halted this process of heart corrosion when he abruptly stopped puking, looked up at me, and with a huge vomit-smile he sang, "I guess THAT piece of toast doesn't wanna live in my belly, huh?" He is allowed to be my life stand-in, honestly.
Gideon also fell asleep last night holding a new puke bowl. He looked at me and said, "Not as cozy as Little Gog (his favorite stuffed animal), but that's okay." Then he rolled over and went to sleep. He makes me speechless the way he doesn't complain and is forever looking for the positive. It is only at night that I know he is feeling the effects of the chemo based on his groaning and occasional cry out for me. Otherwise, the boy never whines or pouts about any of this.
I'll let the clinic pictures tell the rest of the story. Just click on the pictures at the top right corner of the blog. Gideon will take you step-by-step through his day at the clinic. This time he had a spinal tap, spinal chemo, Vincristine in his port, and an increased dosage of Methotrexate in his port as well. I'm in a state of astonishment just by typing that. So much is swirling around in that tiny body. I'm praying it gets the sharks for good.