Yesterday was hard. Gideon was not wanting to eat, felt very urpy, and only wanted to be cradled and sang to. So, that's what I did. He did get sick a couple of times, but the honey made it to the bucket again. His downtrodden persona lasted through his nap and then, Voila! He was better. He still had those glazed-over and red-rimmed eyes that make me feel like I want to invent eyedrops for kids on chemo, but he ate a little and was acting like himself, albeit there was a lack of bonus energy. Nemo Chemo may be a little more potent than the rest, I'm thinking...
Today is the dreaded PEG-Asparaginase double-shot. It is injected deep into the muscle of both of Gideon's legs. Basically, the PEG makes the drug stay in the body longer. The Asparaginase part is an enzyme that breaks down the amino acid asparagine and may block the growth of tumor cells that need asparagine to grow. It is a type of protein synthesis inhibitor. That's a fancy-shmancy way to say that it will stop or slow the cells from generating new proteins (which could lead into developing tumors). Gideon received this chemo once before, and it was painful. Obviously this inhibitor will also slow down the generation of good cells as well, so Gideon will almost certainly need a transfusion (or many transfusions) of plasma to help his body function properly. I'm guessing we will be at the Clinic several times next week for transfusions alone.
This makes me tired. I guess that's a good thing since it's four in the morning while I'm typing this... I am stationed in Gideon's room and I keep looking at him and thinking about today and those shots. The last time he had the PEG procedure was in the hospital-hospital...not the clinic part of the hospital. I am afraid that he will connect the shots with the Clinic and his love for that place will start to fade. I'm afraid how to tell him what he will have to go through. I will tell him. There will be no lies or glossing-over. There will be no surprises for Gideon. I plan on telling him that these shots are even stronger so that it can fight the biggest of the cancer-sharks. Physically, tumors definitely are the "biggest" of the cancer... If this procedure takes away more of the risk that Gideon could generate tumors, I'm all for it. See how I talked myself into this? Thanks, blog.
I think it is safe to say that I'm feeling somber and weighed down again. I have to admit that I have been shaken out of my rut quite a few times by my funny boys. Brody explains what happens in school with such precise detail lately. He goes into describing how other kids act, too. "Mommy, the boy in the green shirt today was not listening. He would NOT sit criss-cross-applesauce and then, And THEN, mommy...he started WALKING AROUND the ROOM while we were doing the calendar! Can you BELIEVE it?!" I love it when he gets all passionate like that. Then Gideon, oh my, that one... My newest favorite time of the day is when I have to wake him up from his nap to pick up Brody. He is always mid-dream as I walk him down the stairs and he blurts out the most random things. Yesterday he said, "Always poop on the toilet...never on the walls." It was like he was in an oracle-state, or something. Thank you for that sage advise, wise one. The day before that he said, "Jesus gave me an ice pack for my head. Wasn't that nice?" The day before that he was mumbling about bouncing clocks. I didn't get a quote on that, just keywords. It always makes me laugh. Laughter has been my anti-gloom agent. I guess that's obvious and true for us all, right? Still. I'm thankful.
My prayer request for Gideon is that he will feel minimal pain for this procedure, that his adoration for the clinic will not diminish, and that this chemo will do its job: prevent tumors. Again, THANK YOU for the support and love!