A demonstration of what can be accomplished through the use of alternative cancer therapies.
Please view the Slide Show of the Bloodroot process.
Slide Show
It was the fall of 2003. I couldn't remember a time when I felt more physically fit. I had spent the summer training and competing in various triathlons, in state and out. At 50 years of age, I was feeling pretty good about my level of fitness and performance.
My wife's mother, Zan, had been battling lung cancer for almost a year. She and my father-in-law came from their home in California, to visit in October. I had recently participated in a triathlon near their home in Los Angeles several months earlier, and was so touched that Zan and her husband made the trip to watch me compete, in spite of Zan's horrific challenges with chemotherapy and radiation. Prior to their coming to Utah, Zan was pronounced cancer free, as chemotherapy and radiation had been successful in eradicating the tumor in her right lung. What was not established (due to poor quality of care), was that the cancer had spread to her brain, and one day into her visit, Zan suffered from a massive seizure. She spent the next 5 weeks in and out of the hospital, and was finally transferred to a hospice facility, where she passed away on November 16, 2003 at the age of 73.
This is as close as Lee Ann and I had ever been to cancer. It was heart wrenching and frightening to watch a loved one's sudden decline. We had done exhaustive research on treatment modalities and outcomes of small cell lung cancer. Between this and our frequent visits to California, we were heavily involved with the entire process. The end of 2003 came as a relief to both of us.
In February of 2004 I began to feel back pain that increased in severity over a two week period. Since I was training for the Salt Lake marathon in April, I thought that maybe it was due to a strained muscle or an old injury, but when it didn't subside I sought medical help, and it was eventually established that a tumor the size of a cantaloupe was lodged in my abdominal region on top of the right kidney. On March 12th I had it surgically removed, and it was diagnosed as a soft tissue sarcoma. We quickly discovered that sarcoma is a rare, aggressive form of cancer that there is very little information on. It has no known markers to determine its presence, and currently approved treatment protocols were harsh with guarded outcomes. Because there was no way to measure success rates until after all chemotherapy and radiation treatments were complete, treatment outcome was very uncertain.
In spite of this uncertainty, we felt there were no other options, and agreed to the treatment plan. I underwent 25 radiation sessions, in spite of the warning from my doctor that my right kidney's function would almost certainly be permanantly immobilized in the process. Intense nausea, controlled by very expensive drugs, was the biggest physical side effect. The trauma of the mental-emotional impact of radiation created equally significant challenges. The extreme discomfort of laying in a stationary position for 20 straight minutes, coupled with knowing that the radiation was destroying healthy tissue, along with potentially diseased tissue, is a memory I do not like to revisit. Midway into my radiation sessions, I began to experience spontaneous nausea, just by driving to the clinic. Even today I can suffer involuntary nausea by simply reflecting on the details of the experience.
Because of the toxic nature of the particular chemotherapy needed to combat sarcoma, a 6-day inpatient hospitalization was necessary for each chemo session. There would be six sessions in all, putting me in the hospital for 36 days, total, over the next six months. My sessions began in June of 2004. There were several reasons I needed to be hospitalized. One, as I mentioned before, was that the drugs that were intravenously administered were of such a toxic nature that they had to be dispensed very slowly, over time, so as not to overwhelm my system. There were four drugs that comprised my chemo-cocktail, mesna, adriamycin, ifosfamide and dacarbazine. Mesna acts as a protectant against the harsh effects of the ifosfamide towards the bladder and the kidneys, and dacarbazine is a strong steroid that elevates energy. Adriamycin, one of the drugs that goes after cancer, is so toxic that if it seeps through the veins and has contact with the skin, it will cause permanent tissue damage and plastic surgery will be required. In an effort to destroy cancer cells, ifosfamide also attacks bone marrow, greatly reducing the red blood cell count after each round of chemo. Consequently, I had to have a blood transfusion on three different occasions to replenish my blood supplies. There were also a multitude of blood enhancing injections I had after each chemotherapy treatment, one of which cost $6000. (No, I didn't add a fourth zero by mistake; it really did cost the insurance company $6000.)
Secondly, because these drugs are likely to affect heart function and be a general threat to the system, I was hospitalized for the purpose of being constantly monitored. I thought radiation created the worst kind of nausea. I was wrong. I've never been so sick in my life. Some days I was throwing up every ten minutes. People would come to visit and would become alarmed by how violently ill I was. Many later told me it was all they could do to get out to the parking lot before breaking in to sobs over my condition. This was in spite of the anti-nausea drugs that were constantly being administered. I kept thinking of the days before anti-nausea drugs were even available: How did people cope with chemotherapy back then? I hate to think of my condition had those drugs not been available.
During my fourth chemotherapy session, it was discovered that a previously undetected active tumor was present at the base of my esophageal junction. My cancer status was now considered to be at stage 4. It seemed to Lee Ann and I that chemo, obviously, was not working. This newly discovered tumor had either been growing during the chemotherapy process ( in spite of the very aggressive drug regiment), or had been there all along and not been affected by the chemo. My doctor, however, strongly admonished me to complete six chemotherapy rounds, saying there was a strong chance more chemo could destroy the tumor. Because of my respect for her judgement, I opted to do one more round, then have a scan to see if the tumor had diminished in size. The scan showed that the tumor remained unchanged. I told my doctor I was through with chemotherapy. I have since done research on general chemotherapy effectiveness and recommend "The Australian Study" at cancerdecisions.com. It opened my eyes to specific realities I was not aware of.
We discussed with a surgeon the possibility of having the tumor surgically removed, and were shocked to discover that it would involve a 6-12 hour surgery. A portion of my stomach and esophagus would need to be removed and reconstructive surgery would be required. I would probably have food tolerance problems and chronic gastric complications. Even if I did have the surgery, my chances of a new tumor developing somewhere else would be 75%.
This is where Lee Ann and I turned a corner in our thinking. The grim limitations of traditional cancer treatment were staring us in the face. We were at a place where we wanted to open ourselves to as many alternatives as possible. I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say that sheer desperation was definitely a major motivator.
Lee Ann and I were, quite frankly, overwhelmed by the sheer number of non-traditional cancer therapies that were available. This was a case where thinking outside the box wasn't just a good idea; Our lives depended on it. In spite of my holistic background as an Acupuncturist and Chinese herbalist, I made an initial decision to put my faith in traditional medicine due to the severity of my diagnosis. The discovery of the second tumor made it clear to us that my treatment needed to take a new direction.
The options for cancer treatment and prevention I ultimately decided on are discussed on this website. These methods apply to almost any kind of cancer. I also include options we found intriguing, but for various reasons specific to my situation, I did not use. The good news is that today I am cancer free, and am engaged in preventive care on an ongoing basis. Please explore my links for more information.
To view progressive stages of Gary's 38 day black salve regiment, please see Gary's slide show.