Help Peyton Fight Brain Cancer

On Tuesday, January 26th, 2021, I got the news I was dreading: my golden retriever Peyton, my heart dog, has brain cancer. A few months prior, he had started exhibiting some problems with his back leg. He was suddenly having trouble getting up from rest, limping, and became hesitant to go up and down the steps, sometimes even tripping. Since he had already bravely battled a grade II soft tissue sarcoma two years ago on his left hind paw, I took him to our vet immediately to rule out a cancer recurrence. The x-rays confirmed there was no cancer present in his foot or anywhere else in his leg or hip. He was diagnosed with a suspected gastrocnemius strain, and prescribed carprofen along with 2 weeks of strict rest. Despite what seemed like a brief improvement initially, it became clear something was still wrong in the following weeks. Our veterinarian recommended seeking the opinion of an orthopedic specialist, but while waiting for this appointment, some new and more concerning symptoms began that indicated the problem might be neurological in nature. I sent videos to the orthopedic surgeon, and she advised that while she still wanted to see him, she may end up referring us to a neurologist. This did end up being the case, and so I scheduled him for the soonest available appointment with the neurology specialist. After evaluating him, the neurologist strongly recommended an MRI, which I agreed to, and which confirmed Peyton has a brain tumor in his pituitary gland.

 
I was told when I met him for the first time the family that was supposed to adopt him had changed their minds because of a black "birthmark" on the back of his head; but I fell in love with him and his adorably unique birthmark instantly. When I held him in my arms, I felt my entire world shift. I knew from that moment on, it wasn't just me, it was me and Peyton, and that I would protect him to the best of my ability his entire life. I often think how lucky I am that family chose to make such a silly and superficial decision, because they missed out on the world's most amazing dog, and being his mom has been the absolute greatest joy of my life. I won't sugarcoat it, he was a hurricane of a puppy—destroying (or consuming) nearly everything in his path—and the fact that I had no prior puppy-raising experience to draw from probably didn't help either of us; but together we grew, and together we learned, and together we navigated the world. He was with me when I moved out of my mom's house and into my first apartment, and years later when I bought my first home (or from his perspective, his first yard). He opened his heart immediately to his golden "sister" Braylee, his bff, who joined us when he was 4. She adores him so much that to this day nearly 8 years later, she will mirror her position to match his. Over the years, we've fostered three rescue puppies whose baby shenanigans he tolerated with infinite patience and who he mentored with the wisdom and grace befitting of his nickname, Peyton Prince of Prussia (we are from King of Prussia). In the past 11 years, there has not been one victory he hasn't celebrated along with me, one sadness he hasn't comforted. I brought him with me the very last time I was able to see my grandma in person, which sadly was through a window, as she had contracted Covid; but I will never forget the way her face lit up when she saw us. In the morning, he rushes to join me in my office as soon as he hears me sit at my computer; and at night, I feel him gently brush against me to "check in" (he thinks he's being subtle enough not to wake me, but I love that he does, it's the sweetest gesture). He has been my best friend, my protector, my constant, my healer, my heart. We have taken what probably amounts to millions of steps side by side...and I cannot let our paths part when there is hope for time. Without radiation, he may only have months...with radiation, there is hope for another 3-4 years.


I have already exhausted my savings with the expense of the diagnostics: multiple sets of radiographs, evaluations by the orthopedic and neurological specialists, and the MRI (which by itself was $3,000). I would be deeply, eternally grateful for any assistance in funding the radiation, which I cannot afford on my own. The total cost of radiation will be $9,500-$10,500, and it will require 20 sedated sessions (four 5-day treatments, with a break on weekends). However, the CT scan of his brain and chest that was performed in preparation for radiation indicates he may have a slightly enlarged heart; this means in order to proceed, we must now also do an echocardiogram (for an additional $600, bringing the total high end quote to $11,100). The echocardiogram, which is an ultrasound of the heart, will ensure we have the information we need to make sedating him as safe as possible. Radiation is scheduled to begin on Monday (2/15), and I booked the soonest available slot for an echocardiogram on Tuesday (2/16) — the radiation oncologist feels it is safe to sedate him for the initial session without having yet done the echochardiogram, given he responded well to the anesthesia for the CT scan. It is important, however, to have those results moving forward.

Peyton is a fighter, and although he will be 12 in April, I often think of him as my "forever puppy," because he has always been young at heart. Radiation will give him the opportunity to live out his "natural life" (in the exact words of the radiation oncologist). Please, help me save my best friend.