St. Jude patient Gideon taking big steps on cancer journey

Gideon strode onstage wearing a crisp dark suit, bow tie and bowler hat, playing the role of George Banks, the stern, no-nonsense father in the musical, “Mary Poppins.” 

It was his first year in theater, but Gideon wasn’t nervous. Not about forgetting his lines or even the crowded audience. He’d worked hard in rehearsals and taken voice lessons in the mornings before school.  

A year later, Gideon, now 15, performed nine scenes in his school’s Spring Showcase, including singing a solo, “I’ve Got a Dream,” from the movie, “Tangled.” His dedication earned him the theater program’s “Preparedness All Star Award.”

Offstage, Gideon also is on the move, an avid walker who logs a few miles some days and as many as 15 on others. When he graduates from high school in 2028, Gideon plans to walk across America, from his home in Washington state to Washington, D.C., a journey that’s sure to draw attention.  

That’s the remarkable part. There was a time when Gideon didn’t want anyone to see him.

 

A rare diagnosis

Gideon was 3 in 2013 when his mom, Dee-Anna, took him to a dermatologist to examine a red growth about the size of a pencil eraser on his left cheek. Doctors initially suspected it was a spitz nevus, a rare non-cancerous mole that resembles melanoma. They biopsied it, and then Gideon had surgery at a local hospital to remove it.  

Once pathology from the biopsy confirmed a diagnosis of spitzoid melanoma, a rare type of skin cancer that can be difficult to distinguish from a mole, Gideon was referred to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, a leader in the treatment of pediatric melanoma and melanoma research.

Within days, Dee-Anna and Gideon boarded a flight to Memphis, Tennessee, leaving baby Leah with grandparents, and dad, Scott, at home with their three oldest children. On the plane, Gideon played happily with his beloved Hot Wheels cars, unaware of his mom’s worries. Skin cancer in children is extremely rare and, unfortunately, often diagnosed late. Gideon’s future would depend on whether his cancer had spread. 

At St. Jude, a registrar reached across the desk for Dee-Anna’s hand and told her, “It’s going to be OK; you’re at St. Jude.” Gideon already seemed to know that.

The next day, Gideon settled at a table to paint a picture of a blue pickup truck with purple wheels on a red road. He spotted another patient, a boy in a red wagon, and gave him one of his toy cars. Gideon told his mom the boy looked sad; he wanted to make him happy.  

It was an act of kindness Gideon would repeat so many times that he’d eventually give away all of his toy vehicles.

Scans at St. Jude showed no evidence of metastatic disease, but Gideon’s doctors wanted to make sure his cancer was completely removed from his cheek. They removed an area around the original growth as well as lymph nodes in Gideon’s neck. 

Afterward, Gideon didn’t want anyone to look at him. He’d cup his hand over his cheek to hide his scar, even after follow-up plastic surgery. Almost the only time he’d lower his hand was to dig through his backpack for another toy car to give away.

Dee-Anna and Gideon returned home just before Christmas, but they’d travel back and forth to St. Jude for more surgeries, more checkups — and more toy cars to give away. 

 

‘I don’t want them to see me’

Gideon’s dad, Scott, is a contractor, and Gideon loved tagging along on his frequent trips to Home Depot. But Gideon told his mom he didn’t want to go anymore. “I don’t want them to see me,” Gideon said. 

A few months later, then 4-year-old Gideon finally went back to Home Depot for a special car show organized just for the boy who loved cars. What began with a couple dozen hot rod owners planning to surprise Gideon grew as word spread through the car community. On the day of the event, 600 vehicles rumbled into the parking lot.

Gideon didn’t mind being the center of attention then, darting from car to car for hours and taking a ride with his dad in a monster truck named Hope. 

A month later, Gideon was back at St. Jude for another surgery. He packed his suitcase with nothing but little toy cars, most still in their packaging, gifts from people in the community. Gideon gave them all away.

Those little cars were everywhere at St. Jude — he’d even give some to the staff, a way for Gideon to give back, and impossible to refuse. 

Then in 2016, when Gideon was 6 and back at St. Jude for another surgery, he suddenly sat up and pointed. “Hey, that’s my truck!” he said. There, hanging on the wall of the surgical center, was the painting of the blue truck with purple wheels he’d made on his first visit.

That surgery almost 10 years ago was Gideon’s last, save a biopsy in 2017 on a suspicious spot that turned out to be nothing concerning. Since then, he’s shown no evidence of cancer, returning to St. Jude only for checkups and always with a bag full of toy cars. His mom estimates Gideon has given away about 6,000 of them over the years. His kindness meant Gideon couldn’t help but be seen. 

The kid with cancer

The thin scar on the left side of Gideon’s face runs from his cheek to jawline. 

“At school, the other kids would point it out,” Gideon said. “As soon as I told them about it, they were like, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ and I stopped being a normal kid.” He appreciated their sympathy, but he wanted to be like everyone else. Not the kid with cancer. 

For eighth grade, Gideon transferred to a new school where no one knew. He liked it that way. “I kind of just wanted to be normal,” Gideon said. 

But on a class trip to Philadelphia, at the Liberty Bell Center, a park ranger spoke about how the bell’s famous crack had become a symbol of resilience. Like the zigzag fracture, the park ranger told the students, our scars show our strength. He asked if anyone had a scar like that.

Gideon raised his hand. For the first time, he told his classmates he was a cancer survivor. “I appreciate the chance to talk about it now — what God has done for my life and what St. Jude has done for my life,” Gideon said. 

That same year, he joined the theater program. For Gideon, it isn’t about being in the spotlight but the friendships, collaboration and community. “The kid has all the confidence in the world now,” his mom said.

Enough confidence to plan a solo walk across the country. “It’s always just kind of been an idea in the back of my mind,” Gideon said. “Sometime this year I realized it is something that is possible.” Cancer taught him that. Anything is possible. 

Big steps on cancer journey

Gideon loves to walk. “That’s when I’m happiest,” he said. “Even if it’s pouring rain.” He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s being outdoors in nature, though he’s just as happy to walk through neighborhoods and downtown.  

“There’s a meditative factor,” Gideon said. “You discover something new every day. You never know what you’re going to find.” A hidden shop. A familiar face. Sometimes, he has to dodge rogue yard sprinklers. On the first day of summer break, Gideon walked 19 miles.

He’s already planning his cross-country trek, studying the terrain and researching gear. The route maps at 2,786 miles, though it’ll likely be closer to 3,000 miles since he’ll have to avoid highways. 

“You can drive through a place, but you don’t really experience it unless you’re on foot,” Gideon said. “At 3 miles an hour, you’re forced to appreciate all aspects of the terrain, the shops you pass and the personalities you experience.”

The journey should take six to nine months, but he’s allotted himself up to 11 months. Because for Gideon, this is an even bigger challenge. He has a developmental motor disorder, unrelated to his cancer, that affects motor skills and coordination. 

Gideon tires easily, so he has to pace himself. His back aches by the end of a school day; his joints swell. He stumbles on stairs. “Tying his shoes can be impossible one day but fine the next,” Dee-Anna said. Sometimes, Gideon struggles to get out the words he wants to say.

Gideon won’t let it stop him. “It’s a striving for adventure,” he said.  

His parents will worry, but Gideon hopes they don’t trail him. His parents hiked 330 miles through Canada on their honeymoon. “It’s a solo walk,” he said of his own plans, glancing at his mom who chuckled. “That would destroy the solitude of it.”

Every year, his family participates in the St. Jude Walk with their team, “Gideon’s Army.” Dee-Anna has worked for ALSAC, the fundraising and awareness organization for St. Jude as a philanthropic advisor since 2018. 

Gideon will share his story with the people he meets on his cross-country trek. Maybe hand out cards with a link to donate to St. Jude. To help kids like him. 

Dreaming big

Gideon is grateful for the chance to dream this big.  “All the milestones I’ve reached, I wouldn’t have gotten if not for St. Jude,” Gideon said. His first prom. Driver’s ed this summer. His dad is fixing up a 1973 forest green Volkswagen Beetle for him. One of the toy cars he held onto is the same model. 

Gideon has big plans for his future. A future he wasn’t always sure he’d get. He wants to study education, then teach. Get a master’s degree and then a doctorate. 

He’ll keep walking, wherever his feet can take him. No hiding from the world.  

“Every day I see my scar in the mirror, and it’s a reminder — I’m living, and it’s by the grace of God and St. Jude,” Gideon said. “I’m making the most of it.”