The Enduring Battle
This is the hardest update I’ve ever had to write. For four years now, I’ve been battling squamous cell carcinoma. It started in my throat, then moved to the lymph nodes in my neck. Since then, my body has been through 70 rounds of radiation, over 20 chemotherapy infusions, two types of immunotherapies, and a five-hour radical neck dissection surgery. Each step was brutal, but I held on because I believed we could contain it.
Cancer Breaks Through
But earlier this year, everything changed. The cancer broke through. It’s in my bloodstream now. That means it has the power to go anywhere.
My February scan showed spots in my lungs. By May, those spots had grown. The right lung nodules doubled in size, and the left lung spots were larger too, with new ones appearing. Seeing that report crushed me. It’s one thing to fight when the enemy is contained in one place. It’s another thing to know it’s moving freely inside you.
Outcome Day Approaches
On September 8th, I will undergo a CT scan with contrast at Health Partners Specialty Center. I call it “Outcome Day,” because that scan will tell me—and all of you—what road I’m really on. I can’t sugarcoat it: I cry when I think about it. I cry in the quiet moments, when I imagine my wife living without me, when I think of missing the life moments in my sons’ lives, when I pray that God gives me more time.
There are three possible outcomes
Outcome 1 – Best case: The cancer hasn’t spread to my brain, bones, or organs. The spots in my lungs have shrunk or disappeared. That’s the miracle I’m praying for, and the result of my treatment plan I am on.
Outcome 2 – Middle ground: The cancer hasn’t spread further, and the lung spots haven’t grown. That means we’ve slowed it down. We work a little harder.
Outcome 3 – Worst case: It’s spread into my brain, my bones, or other organs, or the spots in my lungs have grown. If this occurs, my oncologist will begin discussing “life expectancy.” Just typing those words makes my stomach turn.
Fear and Faith
I need you to know this—I’m scared. Terrified, actually. There are nights when the fear presses down so heavy I can hardly breathe, when I lie awake wondering how much time I have left. But even in those moments, something greater than fear rises up inside me. I feel your prayers like a shield around me, I feel your love like a fire warming the coldest nights, and I feel God’s presence holding me when I can no longer stand on my own.
I don’t believe He’s finished with me yet. Deep inside, I know there is still a purpose for my life—even if I can’t see it fully right now. Maybe it’s to inspire others who are facing their own battles. Maybe it’s to show that faith, love, and community are stronger than cancer. Whatever that purpose is, I trust God will reveal it in His time.
And you—my friends, my family, my supporters—you are a living part of that purpose. Every message, every donation, every whispered prayer reminds me that my fight is not mine alone. You are my strength when I have none. You are my hope when I feel lost. You are proof that God’s love shows up through people.
That is how I face the fear: not by pretending it isn’t real, but by letting your love and my faith speak louder than my fear.
A Daily Fight for Life
Even though radiation took most of my voice, I’m still here, still fighting, still telling my story. Most mornings, I actually feel good for a little while. I take in the sunshine, and I feel a surge of energy. I accomplish everything I need to do in the morning. By afternoon, I need long naps after my medicine, but I wake up grateful that I got another day.
My treatment plan is intensive—comprising high-dose vitamin C infusions, ivermectin, fenbendazole, methylene blue, and a regimen of supplements, including vitamin D, magnesium, zinc, along with a moderate carnivore diet. All captured on My Treatment Options. It’s all about giving my body the tools to succeed. I still believe Outcome 1 is possible.
The Cost of Survival
But I won’t lie—this fight is expensive. I can’t work anymore. Disability doesn’t start until January to cover the treatments and the bills. My wife and I are doing everything we can. We sold off my wife’s car and are selling my truck. We replaced them with a sturdy 2008 Honda. We put on hold my dream of spending the winter somewhere warm. And so, I’m humbly asking for your help.
👉 Please, if you can, donate to my GoFundMe.
Your support means more than money. It means hope. It means I can keep fighting to get healthy without the constant fear of losing everything we’ve worked for. Every donation, every prayer, every share of my story—it’s a reminder that I’m not alone.
Surrounded by Love
On September 8th, I’ll go into that CT scan scared, but I won’t go in alone. I’ll go in with your prayers surrounding me like armor. I’ll go in with faith that God still has a plan for me.
Thank you for standing with me. Thank you for loving me and my family through the darkest valley of my life. Whatever the outcome, I promise to keep sharing my journey with honesty and with hope.
With love, gratitude, and faith,
Wayne