Fizzy-Tizzy

One of the dorkiest things about me is the fact that I am constantly looking for symbolism. Constantly. I was giving Gideon his bath tonight and he had to pour Super Hero Fizzy Pellets into the water (boy version of bath beads...only these sizzle and make colored smoke -- OOooOOooo). I just stared at the fizzing and dissolving and the spectacle of something so tiny disintegrating. Then I thought about those teeny tiny blood cells and that insane Leukemia jumping into the water and causing its own spectacle, just not as pretty and entertaining. I found myself getting angry at those Super Hero Fizzy Pellets. I felt relieved once the smoke cleared. Poor Gideon about jumped out of his skin when he asked for more pellets and I barked, "NO! No more pellets! Let's play with boats!"

All day I have been on edge. I know what it is. Tomorrow morning we will have spinal chemotherapy and the dosages will be still higher than last time. I have cried a lot through this cancer stuff, but I've never cried over the chemo itself. I've cried over side-effects and lost sleep, but never the chemo. Today I have been a teary blur watching Gideon having a zestful day. I should have soaked in the sweetness that is his pretend play and musings. Instead I thought about that hideous poison that would be injected into him and making him less and less himself. I know. I know this poison is also saving his life, so why in the world would I be mad at the treatment? Call it misplaced anger. I don't know. It's the cancer I'm mad at, but the chemo sure does chip away and embitter the sweet boy I know as Gideon.

So I tried to read silly bedtime books with him just to hear him belly laugh. I gave him the dinosaur flashlight that roars when you turn it on, just so he could make shadow puppets and belly laugh some more whenever I feigned a scream from the T-Rex RRRrrrrrrOAR. He kept giving me extra kisses and petting my face while looking at me with a face I call "human lightbulb of innocence": it lights up my soul. It's like he can tell when he needs to be extra gentle with louder reminders of his love as I leave his room. He did both tonight, and I will hold on to that.

Tomorrow will be hard, but the humans in my life are constantly picking up my crumbled spirit and smoothing out the crinkles. In my sulky mood tonight, I opened my email and found that my Early Elementary Staff had a "Fishy Friday" for Gideon. The pictures above depict this festive day. Immediate smiles were the result, and an instantaneous answer to prayers when I asked for a BETTER ATTITUDE (or a new attitude...). Also, South Lyon East High School cheerleaders all purchased shirts and had a Leukemia awareness-type game day. Their coach, Tracie Hovarter said, "Their principal was inspired by these girls and has made Gideon and other kids with leukemia a part of their daily announcements for the last week to inspire the students to get out and do something that means something to them!" So, this horrendous bath we're in has many perfect bubbles overflowing unto the floor. THAT is what I need to remember: the gorgeous ways God is reminding me that we are all enveloped in love. No matter how crazy and out of control it feels like the world is spinning, we keep each other from falling and aid in helping the ride feel like the best it could possibly be. Thank you, everyone. The merry-go-round life is much more pleasant with you in the park with us.