On November 1, I turned fifty seven.
To most people, it is just another birthday. Cake, candles, maybe dinner out. Nothing particularly life changing.
For me, it felt like reaching the top of a mountain I was never sure I would see again. A slow, painful climb fueled by stubborn hope, faith, and the people who have carried me when my body could not.
When you live with stage four cancer, every sunrise is a gift. Every hug has weight. Every quiet moment with the people you love becomes sacred. You hold those moments differently. You hold them tighter.
The Scan That Changed Everything
Back in September, I received a CT scan that shifted the ground under my feet. When I was first diagnosed, the cancer had traveled from my neck and lymph nodes into my lungs. Four tumors. Four brutal reminders of how far the disease had spread and how uncertain the future was.
Then came the September results.
The tumors had begun to shrink.
I still call it a miracle. A moment when fear cracked open just enough for light to break through. A moment that filled me with relief, tears, gratitude, and a quiet whisper from God reminding me that my fight is not finished, and neither is His work.
Why I Chose a Different Path
For four years, I walked the standard cancer treatment road. Radiation, chemotherapy, and surgeries. It attacked the cancer, but it also attacked me. The nausea, dizziness, brutal appetite loss, tinnitus, muscle wasting, nerve damage, and pain that chewed at me day and night became a new way of living.
This time, my wife and I chose something different.
I still follow my oncologist’s plan with Keytruda every three weeks. But I also added treatments that gave me back pieces of my life.
• high dose IV vitamin C
• ivermectin
• Fenbendazole
• sunshine therapy
• methylene blue
• targeted supplements
• a modified carnivore diet with no sugars and no carbohydrates
Some of these therapies are controversial. Some are still being studied. Some fall outside the traditional model completely.
But results matter. Healing matters. Staying alive matters.
In my case, the combination is working.
That is why I built this blog. Not to debate. Not to be political. Not to argue with anyone. I created it to share a real cancer journey with honesty, faith, hope, and a stubborn refusal to quit. This is about staying alive long enough to enjoy the people God placed in my life.
The Pain I Don’t Always Show
There is a part of this journey I do not talk about often, but if you are reading this, you deserve the truth.
Chemotherapy left me with severe neuropathy. Some days it feels like walking on pins. Other days it feels like shifting sand under my feet. Every step is a negotiation with pain. There are mornings I limp to the bathroom, praying my feet will remember how to be feet again.
Radiation and surgery destroyed muscles and nerves in my neck and shoulder. To cope with the pain, I spent months taking oxycodone every four hours. My left shoulder muscles atrophied so badly that lifting my arm became nearly impossible. Grabbing a cup, pulling open a door, reaching to hug someone, these simple motions became battles.
My voice is still damaged. Some people cannot hear me. Some cannot understand me. Sometimes I feel embarrassed or frustrated. Not because I am weak, but because I feel incomplete. Cancer attacks the body, but it also attacks your identity. It strips away things you took for granted and teaches you, sometimes painfully, what truly matters.
Faith. Family. Gratitude. Being present. Being alive.
That is everything.
Small Breakthroughs That Keep Me Going
Physical therapy has been intense, slow, and excruciating, but this week something incredible happened.
A breakthrough.
I lifted a little more weight. I completed more repetitions. My arm shook like it was fighting gravity itself, but it moved. That movement meant the world.
I still cannot lift anything significant with my left arm, but I can curl it twenty controlled times. The rowing motion is painful and stiff, but improving. On days without physical therapy, I push myself to go to the gym or exercise at home because every inch matters.
My goals are simple and profound.
To raise my left arm.
To turn my neck again.
To hug my loved ones without pain.
To reclaim the parts of my body cancer tried to steal.
Infusions, Breakthroughs, and New Treatments
My high dose IV vitamin C infusions have become a lifeline. I receive them at The Drip Bar in Edina, where Stacy, the owner, has been a blessing. Compassionate, knowledgeable, and human. She treats me like a person, not a diagnosis. They will soon be sharing my story publicly, and I look forward to the chance to help others walking this road.
I have also added red light therapy, which supports skin healing, inflammation, and cellular repair. At this stage of my life, anything that supports healing is worth celebrating.
Next, I plan to add Alpha Lipoic Acid therapy. ALA may help with nerve repair and cellular support, and I desperately need both.
Your support makes these therapies possible. You are giving me a chance to heal when traditional medicine alone was not enough. You are helping save my life.
Life Changes, Hard Choices, and a New Way of Living
Living in a large two story home became overwhelming, so my wife and I shifted into a minimalist mindset. If we have not used something in three months, we donate it or let it go. We are preparing to downsize into a one level home using her VA benefits to make daily life easier and reduce stress, which is critical for healing.
Over the years we rescued three cats. One of them, Minnie, was trapped in a window well crying for help when we found her. That moment reminded us that every life is precious. Including mine.
We sold a luxury vehicle and bought a seventeen year old Honda Pilot. We stopped eating out as much. We cook at home. We live simply, gratefully, and intentionally.
Our modified carnivore diet saved our lives. My wife lost fifty pounds, and I am down to one hundred fifty five. We feel strong and focused eating real food, whole milk, Irish butter, butcher meats, and no sugar.
But cancer treatment is not simple. It is not cheap. And it is not something we can face alone.
Why I Share This, and Why I Need Help
Because I am on disability, Social Security requires a five month waiting period before SSDI payments begin. During that time I cannot claim unemployment or work enough to support my family. Every medical bill, every grocery run, every household expense falls on my wife.
She is strong. She is dedicated. She does everything she can. But the burden is heavy.
Your donations keep my cancer treatments going, from vitamin C infusions to physical therapy to supplements to ALA therapy. Your support is helping shrink tumors and repair the pieces of me that cancer tried to destroy.
Your kindness is carrying our family through the hardest chapter of our lives. You are helping me stay alive long enough to heal without fear.
You are part of the miracle happening in my body.
If You Want to Help
If you feel moved to continue supporting my treatment and my family, you can visit my GoFundMe below.
Your generosity keeps me fighting. It keeps me healing. It keeps me here.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for caring. Thank you for walking this path with me. I am still here. I am still fighting. And with your help, I truly believe the best chapters of my story are still ahead.
Love,
Wayne