On my 56th birthday—March 17, 2025—I had a colon biopsy.
A few days later, I was diagnosed with T3B colon cancer. My tumor was deeply invasive, and I was told I’d likely need surgery to remove nearly a foot of my colon, multiple lymph nodes, and six months of chemotherapy to follow.
But I didn’t panic. I went to war.
Designing My Own Protocol—Built on Science, Fasting, and Metabolic Warfare
Within days, I started doing nonstop research. I quickly realized that cancer doesn’t just “appear”—it adapts, feeds, defends itself, and survives by hijacking the body’s normal systems. That meant I had to attack it from every direction.
Within the first week, I had assembled a powerful cancer protocol—one based on published research, metabolic logic, and timing. By the second week, I was in ketosis, eating one large meal a day (OMAD) to give my body close to 24 hours of fasting every day.
I kept protein intake non-excessive—about half the daily requirement—so my body would break down dead, defective, and cancerous cells to meet its amino acid needs. I kept iron carefully regulated, making sure there was no surplus to empower the tumor. I filled my days with targeted supplements, fasted radiation, and timed oxidative therapy.
This wasn’t a generic anti-cancer diet. It was strategic metabolic warfare.
Then Chaos Hit—City of Hope Dropped Oncology Coverage
Right as things were beginning to work, City of Hope dropped my insurance—specifically for oncology care. I still had access to other departments, but I lost the ability to see my oncologist and get proper supervision. And I wasn’t the only one—many patients were dropped, regardless of where they were in treatment.
Because of the screw-up—not blaming the doctor, but a system failure—I went a full week during radiation without Capecitabine, the oral chemo that was supposed to enhance radiation’s cytotoxic effects. That mistake never should have happened.
Studies show that missing Capecitabine during radiation can reduce reactive oxygen species (ROS) generation by 30–40%, weakening the intended tumor damage.
Luckily, Protocol 2 was already designed to increase ROS pressure by up to 3x through metabolic priming, mitochondrial destabilization, and fasted oxidative stress. So even without Capecitabine, I maintained a high ROS environment—and the tumor kept dying.
Thankfully, I was allowed to finish radiation therapy, but I had no access to bloodwork or monitoring. No CBCs. No tumor markers. No oncologist guidance. I was on my own for seven weeks.
But I wasn’t flying blind. I had Protocol 2—and evidence that it was working.
Tumor Sloughing Confirmed My Strategy
Just two weeks into radiation, I had a major breakthrough. I passed a necrotic tissue mass matching the exact size of my tumor. It was the tumor sloughing event (TSE1). The tumor base and the bulk were detached and expelled.
That was all the confirmation I needed—I kept going, unwavering.
A PET Scan—and a Call That Changed Everything
Eventually, I was able to join the Providence system and regain access to care. By that point, I had already scheduled a head-to-toe PET scan for Monday, July 21, 2025. I came fully prepared—with tumor photos, my daily protocol, and proof of tumor expulsion.
Though most Western medicine doctors won’t engage in conversations about natural supplements, I understand why. It’s not their field of training, and it’s not part of the treatment protocols they’re taught—or paid—to follow. That’s why I took full responsibility for my own research, strategy, and daily execution.
The scan told the story.
Just 8 hours after the scan, at 6:30 PM, my gastroenterologist—Dr. Thai Ha, MD of Torrance, CA—personally called me from home with the results.
That moment said everything about him.
Dr. Thai Ha truly cares about his patients. He must—because he called me himself, after hours, to deliver the results. Five stars. Highly recommend.
And the results?
“Your scan came back clean,” he said.
“No evidence of cancer. Head to toe.”
Cancer-Free? Remission? Whatever You Call It—It’s Real
Some call it remission.
Some say cancer-free.
I call it victory.
I avoided major surgery. I avoided six months of IV chemo. I didn’t burn from radiation. I didn’t collapse from toxicity. I never missed a day of Protocol 2, and the PET scan confirmed it—the cancer is gone.
But I’m also a realist.
Just because a scan shows no evidence of disease (NED) doesn’t mean there aren’t lingering cells. Colorectal cancer (CRC) is notorious for leaving behind circulating tumor cells (CTCs) and dormant cells that can lie in wait for months or years.
That’s why I’m considering taking one dose of IV chemo—not because I need it, but to make sure any remaining cells are cleaned up. And if I do it, I’ll build a full side-effect prevention protocol in advance to block:
- Neuropathy
- Immune suppression
- Toxicity
- Nausea and fatigue
Protocol 2 and Protocol 2 Lite already prevented radiation damage—no skin burns, no bone marrow crash. But IV chemo is a whole different beast. I’ll be ready if I choose to do it.
No Relapse. No Excuses. The War Isn’t Over
Do I need chemo now?
No.
But will I keep living like someone who wants to stay cancer-free?
Absolutely.
I’m committed to following Protocol 2 Lite for the next 12 months. I’ll stay in ketosis, maintain non-excessive protein and iron intake, and continue inhibiting cancer survival pathways around the clock.
I won’t lie—there might be days when I drift into dirty keto. I’m human. But the foundation is solid. And I’m not giving this cancer a second chance.
I Won the Battle. Now I’m Making Sure the War Is Over
March 17, 2025 — Diagnosed with T3B colorectal cancer
July 21, 2025 — PET scan confirms no evidence of cancer
That’s just over 4 months.
And I did it with:
- No surgery
- No IV chemo
- No shortcuts
- No quitting
Only science, timing, and discipline.
Fasting. Ketosis. Pathway inhibition. Oxidative targeting. Antioxidant recovery. Immune modulation.
This is what victory looks like.
And I’ll keep going—until there are no cancer soldiers left on the field.
