If this were a normal year, the big day would be the Vikings season opener on Monday Night Football. I am still looking forward to the game and plan to watch it with friends, but my big day this year is my CT scan. I will undergo a CT scan with contrast at Health Partners Specialty Center. I call it “Outcome Day” because the scan will reveal which path my future is on.
The truth is, I am afraid. My heart aches when I think about it, when I picture my family facing life without me, when I imagine missing milestones in my sons’ lives, when I ask God for more time.
Three Directions My Journey May Take
- Best case: The cancer has not spread to my brain, bones, or organs. The lung spots have shrunk or disappeared. That is the miracle I am praying for.
- Middle ground: The cancer has not advanced, and the lung spots remain stable. We have bought more time.
- Worst case: The cancer has spread, or the lung spots have grown. If this happens, my oncologist will begin using words like “life expectancy.” Even writing that shakes me to my core.
Holding On to Hope
Cancer has taken so much of my life, my health, my career, and even my ability to speak the way I once did. I have endured more than 70 rounds of radiation, over 20 chemotherapy sessions, two harsh courses of immunotherapy, and a five-hour surgery that, along with the radiation, scarred the vagus nerve that controls my vocal cords. My body feels like it has been through a war, and in many ways, it has.
For over ten years, I worked in IT on a contract basis. I was proud to provide for my family. That chapter ended when cancer took center stage. I was approved for Social Security Disability Insurance, believing help would come quickly. The reality is harsh: even with stage four cancer, there is a five-month mandatory waiting period before benefits begin. I cannot work. I am not allowed to file for unemployment. The medical and infusion bills keep coming. It feels like living in a space that is neither sinking nor safe, a kind of limbo that pulls at me like quicksand.
Why I Keep Going
Three anchors keep me from being swept away: my faith, my family, and people like you. The encouragement you have given, every donation, every prayer, every message, has lifted me on days when I had nothing left. You have helped me believe that even in the darkest storm, hope still shines.
I do not want to spend what time I have begging. I want to live. I want to fight without the constant fear of losing everything my family and I have built. If you are able, please consider supporting me again, whether through a donation, sharing my story, or simply keeping me in your prayers. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You are part of the reason I am still standing.
Faith Over Fear
Nights are the hardest. Fear presses down heavily. I sometimes feel like I cannot breathe. But even in those moments, something stronger than fear rises within me. I feel your prayers surrounding me. I feel God’s presence reminding me I am not alone.
I believe He still has a purpose for me. Maybe to give strength and knowledge to other cancer patients by sharing my story on WaynesCancerJourney.com. Maybe to show that love and community are more powerful than any diagnosis. Whatever that purpose is, I trust it will be revealed.
And you, my family, my friends, my supporters, you are part of that purpose. Your kindness is proof that God’s love is at work through people.
A Daily Battle
Radiation stole much of my voice, but it did not take my will to fight. Most mornings, I get a burst of energy. I soak up the sunshine, accomplish a few things, and give thanks for another day. By afternoon, the medicine forces me to rest, but I wake up grateful.
My treatment plan is unconventional, but it gives me hope: high-dose vitamin C infusions, ivermectin, fenbendazole, methylene blue, and a combination of supplements including vitamin D, magnesium, and zinc, along with a moderate carnivore diet. I am giving my body every tool I can to help it fight for the best-case outcome.
The Cost of Staying Alive
Hope is powerful, but survival comes at a cost. Disability payments will not arrive until January. My wife makes a good income but we have already sold her car. My truck is next. We bought a 2008 Honda. We have scaled back and put on hold my dream of being a winter snowbird, working remotely and spending time in the Florida or Texas sun.
Still, the costs continue to pile up, including medical bills, infusion treatments, and daily expenses. Every time you have stood with me, you have reminded me that I am not in this fight alone. I will never forget that. Thank you for your love, your prayers, and your support.
God bless you,
Wayne