Hope4Peyton header image

The Day

Today is Peter’s shot to talk and I know you’ll all show him lots of love. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does he brings the heart.  Thanks, honey, for posting on this tremendously happy/crazy anxious day.

Today is just a day.  It’s nothing special on the calendar.  It’s just a day, really, in the grand scheme of things.

And for the Mayhew household (geographically split as it is), we’re treating it pretty much like any other day.

Today is the last day that Peyton has to take chemo, that we know of.

You’d think that would bring us great joy, and it does…somewhat…with an asterisk.

Today is probably the most fearful day in our hearts and minds as well.  The chemo that has kept the cancer at bay for the past 841 days is going to be no more.  In theory, her cancer won’t come back.  Not this one anyway.  There could be side effects from her treatment.  They could manifest themselves tomorrow, next week, next year, in the next 10 years, or never.

We have no control over that.  Basically we’re in “wait and see” mode, indefinitely.

That said, I’ve created a little montage to mark this day.  One of the first nights after our initial diagnosis, I was at home with Nathaniel and Rachael.  Anissa and Peyton were still up at the hospital.  I was sitting on the couch staring blankly at the walls.  The TV was on (SciFi channel probably…because that’s the ONLY channel), and the latest Enterprise episode popped on.  I listened to the intro music from that, without looking at the screen.  The song is called “Where my heart will take me” by Russell Watson, and they show pictures of travel throughout history as they play it.  It’s pretty inspiring.

Then it dawned on me, that the song isn’t actually about space travel.  It’s about the journey.  I didn’t know then what the path ahead was going to hold for us.  I just knew that it was a dark, painful, frightening path that I did not want to go down.

But I had no choice.  My family and I were taking those first initial steps on that trail, without any control whatsoever.

So, on that day, probably 837 days ago, I pictured this “montage”.  I remember saying to Anissa, “WHEN we get through this, I’m doing a video.”  I think she rolled her eyes at me.  It might sound simple, but a lot of you have not been where I’ve been, and I pray that you never have to be.  It has been a guiding torch throughout the past 2+ years for me.  Everything we’ve experienced, good, bad, and ugly, has helped to get us down that path.  The light at the end of that tunnel has been screaming at us like an unstoppable locomotive, and today, it’s here.

Over the next few weeks, we’ll be on pins and needles.

Over the next few months, we’ll get more comfortable, and slowly get back into the swing of things.

So, this little website, that started out because I couldn’t remember which family member had been told what, has sprouted wings, and has helped to become one of the tools that we’ve used to get us through our treatment.  All of our faithful readers have helped to get us through this.  THANK YOU so much for that.  On days that you’re feeling down, think back to this post, and know you helped get my baby, and my family through cancer.

Below is the link to the slideshow I created to mark this *occasion*.  I wound up having to use 2 songs.  I don’t have all of the pictures that my wife does because they’re all on Anissa’s Mac..which was originally mine…but I’m not bitter.  I know I left some of you out, but I was pushed for time…and didn’t have everything.  It wasn’t by choice.  Sorry for that.

So, here it is…in all its glory.

Keep us in your thoughts and prayers.

You are all heroes in my mind.

XOXOX

Petey

Click to play End Of Treatment - Nov
Create your own slideshow - Powered by Smilebox
Make a Smilebox slideshow

This moment of complete slack brought to you by Snickers

I promise that there are new post a’coming!

I’ll be giving my hubs the spotlight sometime soon as he has something special to share with you.

I have posts bouncing off my brain, but have been in a complete STATE this week.

I’m also still grieving the passing of my wonderful camera.

No end-of-chemo-day pictures.

No Halloween pictures.

Curse you, mystery fluid that kills cameras and cell phones, curse you!

Peyton was bouncing off the walls today, so she is about 87.53% better.

Check out the new header…and I ask your opinion:

1. No Peyton in the header

2. No pictures in the header

3. Pick a kid, any kid, and put them in the header

4. STOP changing the header, already!

5. Header? Who cares about the header, there’s still Kit Kats to be eaten!

I will be coming off my sugar high some time soon and hopefully stop this very random candy-induced madness!

The end is nigh!

I’m sure you’re prepared for some sort of WOWZER! type post about the last day of clinic chemo.

I just don’t have it in me today.

It happened today, though.

Finally.

Port working on first try. Check.

Final Vincristine given safely. Check.

Peyton went happily to be anesthetized. Check.

Sort of wishing they’d anesthetized me as well. Check.

Final spinal tap administered. Check.

Final bone marrow aspirated.  Check.

Many many hugs and kisses. Check.

I’ve sort of felt like I could cry all day. I’m not sure if it’s happy or scared or freaked out or what.  Probably a nice psychotic mix of all of the above.  How I feel about the day changes on a minute by minute basis.

I can’t believe it actually happened.

I can’t believe it’s almost over.

I am full of the glee!

I am full of the anxious.

She is hurting tonight.  Her back aches…hello! spinal tap and bone marrow in the same day…she’s a little cranky from the anesthesia…her tummy hurts from the chemo.

For the last time.

I’m getting more comfortable saying that.

I’m repeating it in my head like a mantra.

The last time.

Last time.

Last.

No final chemo and words likely to drive me over the edge to the dark place

My heart raced when Peyton and I walked into the clinic this morning.

I mean PUMPING!

Possibly worse than the first time Peter and I walked in there with her, so fragile with dread.

I had myself worked up into a good frenzy.

I would see each procedure as the last.

The last time she would be having the chemo drug Vincristine pushed into her body.

The last time she would lay curled into a warm soft question mark of flesh and bone as they pressed a needle deep in her spine.

The last time I would bring her to this place to be pumped full of poison.

I was ready!

Her? No big deal.

Me? A walking black hole masquerading as a human.

Yet, it was all for nothing.

There was no last chemo today. There was no final spinal tap. There was no last anything.

Nada.

Zip.

Peyton’s port decided to take a poop on the day’s plans, after hours of drugs to clear the line and pumping fluids in hopes of getting a return of blood that would enable us to start the finish….we got nothing.

I have a feeling her port has seen it’s day. It has been progressively less and less cooperative over the past couple of months and on this last day that we needed it to function it gave us the finger and told us to take a leap.  No go.

After much tossing around of options between me, the doctor and the nurse, we decided the best plan of action is to wait until Wednesday…because what I really need is another two days to wallow in my crazy….but best for Peyton and that’s all that matters.

On Wednesday, she’ll be going under general anesthetic….they’ll administer the final pull of spinal fluid and also do a bone marrow aspiration to ensure remission…we are praying that her port works on Wednesday, otherwise we will be administering her chemo through a regular IV into the hand.

Nothing feels so good as to hear the nurse warn you that they will protect Peyton in all ways possible from any kind of leakage of the chemo because, just in case you didn’t know, it’s BAD for you. She explained that they don’t administer Vincristine into a joint (such as the elbow) because if it were to leak it could leave permanent, irreparable damage, say, like, destroying the cartilage.

Let’s hear that again, folks.

The chemo that Peyton has had filtered into her body on a monthly basis for the past two and half years could completely eat away the cartilage in her elbow.

Good times.

And that’s just ONE of the many meds her body’s withstood.

I hate this disease. I’m glad to see it gone. Beyond all the fears and anxieties, I am feeling this impatience to know that we are done with treatment. I have been anticipating this moment and going slowly insane and I’m ready for it to be done….so I can move onto the next phase of neurosis to be perfected.

I like to feel like I’m growing and learning as a person.

So, now we have are still waiting, with a little more anxiety than we started with because I am FREAKING about the port not working and having to possibly put her chemo in through a leaky IV, which makes me consider if I shouldn’t demand them to do it in her left hand because she’s a righty and if the chemo is going to cause all the bones in her hand to melt away and then she has to go get some robotic prosthesis at least she’ll still have her good writing hand….slight dramatization, but a little insight to how my brain works.

Worries? I HAZ them.

A picture tells a thousand stories

Amazingly enough, by putting my memory card in my awesomely wonderful printer, I was able to save some of the pictures from this weekend….and some video of Britt that I think I might have promised NOT to post…or to post as soon as humanly possible…am unsure…is foggy.

Plus, I got the mackdaddysweet pictures from Izzy who owns a camera to which my heart writes sappy love notes and hums Journey tunes….covet covet covet.

So, with no further ado….and hopefully there will be more to come…here is the first photo installment of “How the Florida bloggers burned down Sea World”.

Car wreck #2 -the flipped over car on 1-4

The Wonder Chin Twins

I call it “Britt with a toilet seat cover

I swear we didn’t sing…we DID hear the worst version of “Like a Virgin” ever

Izzy has wicked long arms *courtesy of Izzy’s camera

Shash and Izzy shmoozing the camera love *courtesy of Izzy’s camera

Really? I have no idea *courtesy of Izzy’s camera

We are full of the silly! *courtesy of Izzy’s camera

Awesome new bloggy friends….I HAZ ’em. Good grief, we look like a Benaton ad *courtesy of Izzy’s camera

Ladies, thanks for the memories, can’t wait to do it again soon.

Izzy, thanks for totally letting me steal all of your magnifantastic pictures.

Shash, thanks for letting us crash your pad.

Britt, thanks for doing that belly thing, that might have made my whole year.

For more evidence of the fun, check out my Flickr!