We just got home from the hospital. Gideon's cough got scary and nonstop, along with throwing up and a fever of 101.5. So, his oncologist suggested we head to the ER. He had his chest x-rayed, his blood checked, and an IV bag full of antibiotics. It looks like he will also need another transfusion of immunoglobulin, but that will be later this week. The nurses told us we would be asked to check in overnight, especially since Gideon's temperature kept rising. It was up to 102.8 and the little rosy-cheeked boy passed out. We caught the pneumonia in the beginning stages, thankfully! To be honest, I just wanted to get the medicine in his veins, get the oral medication for the pneumonia, and leave that petri dish of a hospital. It is beautiful and its staff is incredible, but home sounded better.
We were allowed to go home. We are thankful for all of you who are still out there praying, asking for updates...seriously. THANK YOU. I kind of want to pull my hair out, though. So, if you could also pray for sanity...that is much appreciated. Gideon took his newest medicine to combat the pneumonia along with his nightly dosage of chemo. His fever went down to 101.1 thanks to Tylenol. Unfortunately, it all came back up and into his puke bowl. Do you know what that's like? To watch your baby throw up the medicine meant to save his life? It made me want to get a mini-skimmer and fish out particles in the bucket, and mix it in with something that he'll digest and keep down. It's a mixture of madness and desperation, that feeling.
The only medicine his oncologist told me to redo was the new pink stuff for the pneumonia. He also asked me to feed him one more steroid to fight that nasty cough. Every time I hear that rattle of his lungs I feel like his little muffler is going to just drop out of his little body. It makes me cringe and want to brace his ribs with my hands. I say "want" to be his brace, but I do that. I wrap myself around him when he is attacked with a coughing fit. I have no idea if I'm helping or hindering, but I just want those lungs to be clear of anything but clean-clean air all while holding him together.
So, his cancer is sharks. Gideon wanted to understand his pneumonia, and when I described it, he said it was a pokey and mean puffer fish. It's good to know that nothing can douse the fire of his creativity.
Praying. Loving on him. Loving on all of YOU who care so much about our boy. Thank you. Again.