Sometimes things are too weird. Gideon has been doing great, as I've mentioned. Then at dinner last night, he stopped eating and was silent. Even Brody across the table, who was acting like a total and complete goof, wasn't snapping Gideon's glazed eyes into awareness. He just stared with wide eyes into nothingness. I asked him what was wrong. He looked up at me, his bottom lip made its distressing debut for the night, and he began to dry heave. Then he laid down and just fell asleep. This was at 5:30! My adrenaline was pumping and the sirens of something-is-wrong were whirring at maximum volume. He didn't feel hot at all. What was wrong?
I bundled him in a blanket and rocked him for about two hours with the thermometer in my hand and his arm ready for the reading. Every single time I checked, his temperature was normal. His behavior was anything but normal. He didn't even move whenever I repositioned him for a temperature check. He was out.
I think I get myself so worked up sometimes that I make myself super sick with a migraine. These have been more common the past six months. They don't happen in the midst of a crisis, but as soon as I am able to calm down, they attack. I was able to wake Gideon up enough to get on his jammies, brush his teeth, and take his chemo. He was a little zombie the entire time and didn't try to talk, to answer me...nothing. He crawled into his bed on his own and passed out again. I had to get one more temperature check in there: normal. I went to bed next to him with the puke bucket ready, and the migraine monster started to chisel at the right side of my brain. It was not the best night.
This morning, though, Gideon is acting fine. He ate his yogurt and shunned his toast and eggs...the norm these days. He is smiling and talkative. So, last night was a Twilight Zone fluke, I guess. I'm praying it was and that he's not battling something.
Another PLUS-side bonus: Those HORRENDOUS, horrid, horrific medicinal syringes are starting to WORK now. I can't tell you how frustrated I get with those things. The plunger never fits into the syringe right and then when I wrestle it and maneuver it, I am rewarded only with the medicine spraying everywhere. When they are first bought, they work perfectly. It's after they are washed (trying to be green and recycle) that they become these defiant little monsters. Guess what I had to do to avoid this drama? Get the rubber part of the plunger a little wet and Voilà! It just slips in there like it was never the obstinate and insanely stubborn devise ever created.
All of us new cancer parents get a binder to take home full of information. It is the most useful handbook I've ever owned; however, I want to make a suggestion. Please make a section called "Potential Annoyances." This is not the gloom or doom section that relays heart-wrenching what-ifs, but little things that aren't life altering, but could provide some minor relief from annoying garbage like those dang medicinal plungers! Just an idea. I'd be happy to write it for you. :)
P.S. Please remember to CHEER for Grand Marais, MI. There are only NINE days left and second place is GAINING on them! Thank you.