Stage 4 to Undetectable: Will the Miracle Continue?
Tuesday, January 13th, is a big day. A terrifying day. A hopeful day.
It’s the day I walk into that CT scan imaging center and find out if I’m still winning this fight, or if everything changes again.
My last three CT scans have been a roller coaster that would break most people. Last summer June 3rd my 25th wedding anniversary, I read the words on a pathology report no one wants to see: Stage four. Terminal.
That news hit me like a sledgehammer. It broke me. My death was near. But it also woke me up. I realized that repeating the same approach and hoping for a different result was no longer an option. I was done being a passive patient. I chose to become an active participant in my own survival.
I built a comprehensive, integrative strategy that worked alongside my immunotherapy, not instead of it. I committed fully to a carnivore diet. I added high dose IV vitamin C, carefully researched repurposed medications, and targeted supplements. I started monitoring the fundamentals that mainstream medicine rarely emphasizes: vitamin D levels, magnesium, zinc, sunlight exposure, and immune markers. With thirty years of project management behind me, I did what came naturally, I documented everything. Every scan. Every lab. Every adjustment. I became both the subject and the researcher in a real world experiment where the stakes couldn’t be higher.
And it started working.
My September scan showed a 50% reduction. My December scan? Two lung nodules, undetectable.
Will this trend continue on Tuesday? Or will the cancer come roaring back?
This is the question every cancer patient lives with. Recurrence or remission. Hope or heartbreak. I’ve been living in this space between scans for months now, and I won’t lie to you, I’m scared. But I’m also hopeful, because I’ve seen what’s possible when you refuse to give up.
I know you’re behind me. You’ve proven it with your prayers, your messages, and your donations that made my high-dose vitamin C infusions possible. You’ve helped me save toward ALA treatments for the nerve damage that’s stolen my voice and changed the way I walk. You’ve shown me I’m not fighting alone.
I need you now more than ever.
I want to live. I want more time with my wife, with my sons, with friends new and old, with the people I love. I want to keep sharing what I’ve learned so others facing this monster have hope too.
Here’s how you can stand with me:
· Visit my blog and leave a comment, let me know you’re in my corner, Wayne’s Cancer Journey.
· Say a prayer for my family and me.
· If you’re able, make a donation to help me afford my next treatment while I am forced to wait for disability to begin in February.
We’ve reached a crossroads.
Tuesday’s scan will tell us which path lies ahead. I’m choosing to believe in hope, in prayer, in the power of this community that has carried me this far.
Thank you for being part of my journey.
Thank you for believing I could still be here.
I’m still fighting. I’m still here.
God bless you all,
Wayne