My Journey from cancer to Cure

08/12/2026

CT scans and chemo infusions

I know I’ve been a slacker with this journal when my close friends message me for progress updates. If I would update this journal faithfully, they would already know and not have to ask. Sorry, friends.

Let’s get down to what people want to know: CT results. The CT showed a small (maybe 13%) decrease in tumor size, especially in the abdominal tumor.

How am I feeling? Right this minute? Uhm… that’s better left unsaid. I’m currently sitting in the infusion lab getting my dose of paclitaxel. This is the drug that causes neuropathy among other things. In fact, I need to pause this writing to put my ice packs back on my hands. After that last infusion, I’ve been struggling with my hands going numb. I was negligent in my last infusion about my ice packs. Brb.

That “brb” turned into three days. I talked the doctor into letting me do this chemo with no prior infusion of steroids and half the Benadryl which had already been halfed the time before, so now we were at 25% original dose. I’m a glut for punishment.

A friend asked me to share what the six-hour chemo infusion is like. I cringe just thinking about it. It’s the systemic poisoning I have the biggest problem with. I know a lot of people feel like they don’t have the luxury to think that way – to think of another option than being poisoned. Or – they can’t accept that chemo is poison because then they wouldn’t believe it could heal them and it’s their last hope. You must believe in a thing for it to do you any good.

Anyway. Details. The infusion appointment starts at 9am where I’m ushered to a nice recliner down a hallway of open-ish cubicles as a couple nurses flit around with IV lines and small bags of fluids. A nurse preps my port site with a few sterile liquids before telling me to take a deep breath. Those port needles hurt. That seems like a simple statement, but I have had two very difficult insertions back-to-back and I cried when this last one had to be pulled out and redone.

It was my fault. I freaked out and pulled back in fear. Then I cried. Then I told myself to calm down because my anxiety was bringing the problem to pass. I relaxed against the back of the chair, calmed my breathing and the next insertion was quick and not nearly as painful.

At this point, there is a knot in my stomach in grim anticipation for the medicines to come. I am given anti-nausea medicines and my 25% Benadryl. That’s it. One of the meds caused some burning and tingling in my neck and right side. I hadn’t ever felt that before but that might be because the steroids had always been given first. I tell you what – when you get a massive dose of steroids like that, you feel amazing!! Freaking amazing!

So, I didn’t feel amazing this time. And my drowsiness was much milder but strong enough to make me useless during the infusion. I always bring books to read but it’s futile. Absolutely futile.

The time is roughly 9:40 and the real drugs begin. The nurse puts on a full body suit of PPE because these drugs are so potent and poisonous. She connects the small bag of chemotherapy drug to my IV line, asks an overseer to check the drug and my information and then starts the pump. The first drug takes about a half hour. This is usually the time I play a game with my husband, or we chat while I still have some braincells for the task.
By the time the next medicine comes, I’m too drowsy for games and I have to put the ice packs on my hands and feet to help keep the neuropathy at bay. This drug takes 3 hours to infuse. I used the ice only on my hands this time because I don’t have enough packs to keep my hands and feet iced the whole time. So, I use the feet packs in the hand gloves and save at least those appendages.

The last drug only takes a half hour and then the needle is quickly taken out and I’m on my way. The infusion itself doesn’t hurt, only the aftereffects.

I won’t write too much more even though so much has been stewing. Chemo brain is a real thing and I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had a great thought but couldn’t remember it moments later to write it down. Or I begin a train of thought and it ends in a pool of misty confusion somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain.

The few days after this chemo were not fun. I still took my zeolite after the 24-hour mark, but it did not combat the nausea. I ended up taking one of the nausea pills I was given after my first chemo. It worked after about an hour, and I only needed one (instead of prescribed 4 in 24 hours) each day for two days. I have also taken a couple hydrocodone to help with the neuropathy pain that seems to set in as I lie down for the night.

As I feel more of the chemo pain this time, I know it’s not from a side-effect of the steroids. The other pre-chemo drugs also did not cause the nausea, neuropathy or any other psychosis that follows. I’ll write more about it later, but my mind has been a scary mess over this last month, which is why I opted for no steroids.

But, as I felt the pain this time (and am still dealing with some of it), I know it’s only from the chemo drugs and not at all from the steroids or from the cancer itself. I wanted to feel the effects for themselves. If the medicine makes me feel like I’m dying, I have to ask myself “did the cancer make me feel this way?” For me, that answer is no. But, as I take chemo and as it saturates my body over the course of these months, I feel a waning in my physical ability overall. I am weaker. I can’t think clearly. I have aches and pains everywhere. I have fear and anxiety that was never present before.

That’s not from the cancer. It’s from the medicine. It’s from the thing that’s supposed to be saving me. It’s like losing from winning. The thing that’s supposed to help is the thing that is causing the hurt. I’m feeling this firsthand and in a very gradual, sickening way.

But don’t worry, good comes from all of this and I will be cancer-free in the end.

08/07/2026

Tried chemo without steroids today. Feel much worse physically but better psychologically. We’ll see how this plays out in the long run. Working on a worthy post but chemo brain is a thing. 🤯

07/21/2026

Water for the win

No, this isn’t another blurb about fasting. Although that is still necessary (the fasting, not the blurb), I have still not accomplished it, so I really don’t want to talk about it right now. No one likes to talk about their failures until they are a success.

For now, I want to talk about water, optimism, belief and theories. Lots and lots of theories. Oh!! Math too. Math is awesome. I love math. Don’t you?

If A = B and A = C then B = C. Not only is that math, it’s also logic. So, let’s talk about logic too. That’s included in my theories, of course.

I have my next CT scan tomorrow. I had chemo on Thursday which meant yesterday and today should have been my super sick days. Just like last time, I did not get sick. I did notice a small decrease in overall energy yesterday, but I seem to be my normal, chipper self today. I was not fasting before, during or after the chemo but I did take the zeolite again. I’m a glut for punishment and I almost want to not take the zeolite next time at all and verify if that has been my saving grace.

The CT scan will also be telling though because, if the cancer has grown, I will know that I have been wrong… wrong, wrong, wrong. I don’t mind being wrong. I’ve been wrong a lot and I’m not afraid to admit it. If the cancer has grown, I will also know that I simply cannot not water fast any longer and I’m going to need my husband to lock me away until the food cravings stop entirely (so, you know, day 40). Or, I’m just going to have to overcome the hard way – sheer willpower. I cringe at the thought because I’ve never succeeded that way before. The one thing I refuse to do, though, is quit.

Ok – on to the water topic. Have you heard to Dr. Emoto and his experiments with water? He wrote a lovely book called “The Hidden Messages in Water” that I highly recommend. He spoke to water drops before freezing them in sterile petri dishes and then examined the ice that formed. Without fail, the water had a visceral response to the words. Phrases of anger or hatred created a jagged, deformed appearance, whereas words of love and positive affirmation caused the water to freeze in beautiful forms like snowflakes under microscope.

There have been many similar experiments over the years with various mediums. A jar of cooked rice will ferment sweetly when told it is loved daily while a jar of rice from the same batch will turn black and rot when it is told it is hated. Why is this? And what does this have to do with cancer (for goodness’ sake)?

I believe the answer is universal in its application and carries the implication of creative force within us all. That sounded very woo-woo but I mean it in the most mathematical, logical sense possible. If A = B and A = C then B = C. If spoken words with their intent behind them create order or chaos, then what else can we conclude but that we speak with creative force? There are also experiments that don’t use spoken words. Thoughts only. With the same results. So, let’s not limit creation to “out loud.” We are what we think. It’s just that simple. I told you math was awesome.

So, regarding cancer – I have a very hard time thinking that I will be unwell because I simply don’t think I will be. I know there are limits to this idea of thought being a creative force. I can think I will be fine jumping off a 10-story building all I want, and I will die at the bottom if I chance it sans parachute. So, there is some hard-fact, physical reality that does come into play. But…. But, if a scientist can change the way water forms itself by talking to it from his analytical, scientific mind with no pre-disposed outcome on his mind then how much more powerful are my intentional thoughts for positive outcome in the water that exists in every cell of my body. Can I not change that water with my thoughts?

Is cancer not a cell? Does it not contain water? Are not my healthy cells more numerous than those cancer cells and can I not change each and every one of them by thought alone? Yes. Yes, I can. And, I am.

I do want to touch on the nature of water in this monologue while I’m at it. Water is arguably the most valuable substance on earth. Even our atmosphere is made of the same molecules in different form – hydrogen and oxygen. Who’s to say air doesn’t change form when we speak? It’s just impossible to capture it on camera. Water takes on the shape of its container (so does air… let’s keep lumping them in together, shall we?). If water without containment (say a drop in a wide-open petri dish) changes its shape voluntarily with the power of thought, then am I crazy to think that thought created the shape that the water took? Thought became the container. The water changed to look like the thought.

What does this mean exactly? I don’t fully know. The shape of “gratitude” or “love” in water is harmonious, balanced and beautiful. The shape of “hate” and “anger” is amorphous, distorted and rough. The shape of a healthy human (plant or animal) is in order, is balanced and is beautiful. Beautiful thoughts create beautiful cells.

I guess that’s how I can be stupidly optimistic while having a disease that kills millions per year. I can’t bring myself to give power to negative thoughts about my outcome. It’s not even in me to do so. I guess that’s a luxury because I’m sure most people have a very hard time thinking positively when given such a prognosis. Maybe I’m just ignorant. Or maybe I have too much information and have allowed it to make me puffed up and unable to see the truth. I guess time will tell. Time will tell.

07/03/2026

2nd chemo

It’s been a little over a week since my second chemo treatment. For this treatment, two of the drugs were reduced, the paclitaxel and dexamethasone (steroid) and one drug was added: immunotherapy. This treatment was also done in a specific place for infusions, which was a new experience for me. Last time, I had chemo in the hospital during my emergency stay and they gave it to me in the middle of the night – so I slept through it (the Benadryl helped).

This time, the process took about 6 hours, and sleep evaded me as the Benadryl also caused some weird, physical restlessness that je**ed me “awake” every time I attempted to sleep. So, I was useless-tired but unable to sleep. I brought a book but was too tired to read. C’est la vie.

All in all, it went well as far as poisoning oneself can go. *eye roll* I may never come to understand how things got this bad with the medical community. During my young adult life, I homeschooled my children and we almost never visited doctors (because we weren’t sick), so I missed the advancement-in-medicine curve. I should say “advancement-in-idiocrasy curve.” I’m sorry. I’m feeling salty this morning.

I guess chemo has been around for decades, so it’s all just new to me. Although, I do remember doctors taking some kind of oath…. What was it? Oh yes, the Hippocratic Oath. You know, that’s the one where they vow to never give poison. And I quote: “Neither will I administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I suggest such a course.”

But you may argue – “The poison kills the cancer!! It’s the only way!!” To which I simply roll my eyes again. Cyanide also kills cancer since it kills the whole patient. The only difference here then is that the chemo comes close to killing the patient. This is why I struggle with the dichotomy I face. I also struggle with self-hatred at my inability to take the natural path 100%. Not only was I unable (at first) to take the natural path, but now my own inability to stick to the plan prevents it further. It’s funny the battles you face while attempting to win a war.

While I am determined to win, it appears that I’m losing in keeping to my natural remedies. I guess the PET scan next month will tell the story well enough. Maybe a “bad” scan will be the motivation I need. I don’t know.

So, the after-effects of this last chemo were interesting. On day 3 after chemo, I felt a little queasy for a couple hours but then it went away and never came back. I had (maybe) a minute of intermittent, tingling pain and that was it. The negative effects of chemo are cumulative, so I should have been sicker than last time, but I wasn’t. I really wasn’t sick at all. It was amazing!!

I can’t determine whether it was simply the reduced drugs or the addition of immunotherapy or a new trick I tried or that I wasn’t fasting. It could have been a mixture of things. I want to address each item though to try to sus an answer. If you see a link or cause I don’t, please let me know in the comments. I am my own Guinea pig, but sometimes I’m too close to the forest to see the trees. Let’s take them one at a time.

1. Reduced Paclitaxel – this drug was reduced by 20% for this infusion. This drug causes more of the neuropathy and bone marrow issues than vomiting or nausea. So, I personally don’t feel like this reduction had anything to do with my lack of symptoms except for maybe a lessening of the tingling pain.

2. Addition of immunotherapy. That word is an oxymoron in my opinion. It should be more like “immune-provoker” or “immune-activator.” It’s like putting inflammation into the body to get the body to “attack” the inflammation. I was concerned about this drug because I already have enough systemic inflammation (that’s what asthma is) and I didn’t want more. I will say, my asthma has been a bit rougher since chemo, but I can’t know if it’s from this drug for sure. I didn’t get this drug in the hospital because of some kind of insurance problem, so this was my first dose. I can’t imagine how a drug that inflames the immune system could prevent nausea, so I highly doubt its affect can be attributed to my lack of symptoms.

3. Reduced steroids (dexamethasone) – This is a biggie and a total contraindicator to having reduced symptoms. If you’ve ever been on steroids (medical – like prednisone or dexamethasone), then you know they make your body feel better very quickly. If you have any inflammatory process in your body, steroids calm it down very quickly. It also comes with a barrage of its own “side” effects, like hunger/cravings, mood swings, sleeplessness, water-weight gain (on top of regular weight gain if you can’t control the cravings) and adrenal fatigue (long-term).

The steroids are given to negate anaphylaxis from the chemo drugs in general and then to help you feel better in the aftermath. I got this dose reduced from 20mg to 12mg. I am accustomed to taking prednisone for asthma attacks over the years, so I asked the nurse what the equivalent of this was. You see, I had been struggling with some of the worst food cravings and mood swings I had ever experienced in my life over the prior three weeks, so I was curious if the steroid dose was comparable to my previous doses. It turns out, dexa is 6-times more potent than prednisone. So, my first dose (in the hospital) at 20mg was 120mg of prednisone. To give an idea, I would only take 100mg of prednisone over the course of 5-days. That dosage would cause the after-effect symptoms to last for 2-3 weeks on average, and the symptoms were manageable – meaning I didn’t want to murder someone to fulfill the carb cravings that came. I could usually avoid weight-gain or keep it to minimal with that dosing.

So, when I received even more steroid in one single shot at the hospital, I was doomed. They also prescribed 3 more days of dexa to be taken after chemo, each pill being equivalent to 20mg of prednisone. After the hospital stay, I took only one of those pills and it didn’t seem to help the nausea or vomiting.

So… with all that being said, I don’t see how reducing a drug designed to reduce symptoms had anything to do with me not experiencing any negative symptoms after this second chemo.

4. I tried something new: I took a zeolite supplement on the 3rd, 4th and 5th days after chemo (2 capsules twice a day). Zeolite pulls foreign substances from the body. I have this supplement on hand to take 2-hours after taking the Fenbendazole and Ivermectin because it helps the body flush any dead parasites or cancer cells. It will also flush other medicines or mineral supplements, so it’s important to not take this when you want another drug to be effective.

I hear you now, “Then, why did you take this after chemo??? Now the chemo drugs won’t work!!” Let me explain my theory. Do you remember how I was in so much pain in the hospital because my abdominal tumor was pressing on my organs and such? Do you remember how I said that pain disappeared within the first 12 hours after having chemo in the hospital? So, it stands to reason that the cancer die-off from the chemo was large enough to reduce that tumor size enough to eliminate the pain. I was also deep in fasting at the time, so that would have aided the rapidity of the cancer reduction.

Cancer drugs attack the weakest and most-rapidly reproducing cells in the body. Cancer fits that bill and seemed to be the first cells the chemo attacked. After the initial attack and reduction of cancer, the drugs moved deeper into my body causing all the other terrible effects.

My theory then is that, if I take the zeolite after that initial cancer-killing day, it will flush the remaining chemo drugs out of my system before they get a chance to do their damage. Ta-da!!! And, by all evidence I can tell, it seemed to work like magic. Magic, I tell you!!

5. Not fasting – I’m not sure how having food in my digestive system could have reduced symptoms of nausea and vomiting, but it’s the only other factor in my body that was different for this second chemo because I had not been fasting. During my sick days after my first chemo, I tried eating to see if it helped the nausea, but I threw the food up immediately (and still called it a fasting day). So, it really couldn’t have been the food.

The only way to test these theories is to reduce the variables. I will be (God, help me) fasting for my next chemo – so that will take a variable away. The reduction in chemo meds will remain the same and I plan to take the zeolite. So, if I get terribly sick – it’s the fasting (highly unlikely). If I don’t get sick again, it’s most likely the zeolite was the reason.

Also, after this last chemo, I have been able to control the hunger cravings for the most part. I went off the rails for a couple days and had a couple bad cheats on otherwise good days, but nothing like after the first chemo. I also had very little insomnia or mood swings (aftereffects of the steroid).

06/21/2026

https://youtu.be/NE90rxo4VjY?si=t7_NFAQTC1htXTzu

Is cancer a parasite? (and a general update)

The video linked to this entry is not specifically about the parasite topic but at/around minute 24, the doctor quickly and briefly explains why many natural-minded cancer patients take parasite killers like ivermectin, fenbendazole, mebendazole, etc. I’ll put the information in my own words and give some brief definitions.

In short, parasites use the same energy-production (metabolic) process as cancer. Drugs that kill parasites do so by attacking their ability to metabolize; ergo, the drugs that kill parasites kill cancer.

In mid-technical terms: cancer and parasites use a fermentation process to create energy within their cells. Healthy cells use an oxidative process to create energy. The parasite drugs target the fermentation process, essentially cutting it off completely, causing cell death to any cell requiring the process.

And now for the technical terms for geeks like me who like to know the details: Parasites and cancer cells use mitochondrial substrate-level phosphorylation to produce ATP (the “currency” of cellular energy) for cell energy/life/growth. Regular cells use oxidative phosphorylation. These (both fermentation and oxidative phosphorylation) are metabolic processes that give life to cells. This life is created in the mitochondria of each cell. As a cell becomes cancerous, it leaves its original metabolic process (through mutation) and transfers its energy-production from using oxygen to using fermentation.

In one way of looking at it, this is a damaged cell’s last-ditch effort to stay alive. When a healthy cell becomes so damaged that it can no longer use oxygen to live, it must use fermentation. It’s a well-known fact that sugar is a great fermentation catalyst. If you forget to add sugar to your bread recipe, the yeast won’t rise (ferment) properly. The body wants to live and will go through great lengths to do so, even at the cellular level.

These damaged cells gobble up sugar to create the fermentation they need to live, but the fermentation process is much less efficient and effective than the original oxidative (healthy) process. This is the reason why cancer cells consume so much more sugar than healthy cells. This is why I’ve been harping on carbs and sugars. This is why fasting and ketogenic (low/no carb) diets help the body rid itself of cancer. If cancer doesn’t have sugar to ferment to create energy, it dies.

The caveat here is that cancer cells can also use the amino acid, glutamine, for the fermentation process. I won’t dive into that rabbit hole here, but it’s a discussion we’ll need to cover later.

This is why all of my attempts to “cure” my cancer have to do with food or ingesting (or not ingesting) things. Even sunshine is an ingestion through the skin.

The mainstream textbooks say that cancer is a genetic disease, but only 10% (or less) of cancers are truly genetic (meaning you inherited the already-damaged cells without having to create them through the metabolic process). Professor Seyfriend (the first man speaking at the 24-minute mark) wrote a lengthy book talking about cancer as a metabolic disease. He and his team (and many scientists in other, freer countries) have proven these concepts in laboratories and through animal and human trials and testing.

There are also hundreds, if not thousands, of anecdotal testimonies of this being the case as well. I can’t tell you how many keto-based diets have been attributed to people’s cancers going away. I’ve heard testimonies about water fasting reducing and removing cancerous tumors and/or lowering cancer blood markers. There are social media pages dedicated to people telling how their cancers were “cured” through only parasite medicines like the ones mentioned above. People (like me) are educating themselves beyond what their doctors have recommended and reversing their cancers every day.

So, is cancer a parasite? No. It is a metabolic sickness or disease process in the mitochondria of the cell. As for me, I take a weight-based dose of ivermectin and fenbendazole every day for about a week and then I take a few days off. I buy these at the local farm store in the equine department. There are weight markers on the tubes that allow me to adjust the dose for my weight particularly. There are also a few videos on YouTube explaining how to meter the doses. As before, do your research before taking any medicine or implementing any modality.

As for my personal update, I am ashamed to say that I have not been doing well. That is to say, my diet has not been doing well. I feel fine – which is probably why I’m struggling so hard to get back to fasting or even a ketogenic diet. I especially hate that I have all this knowledge but I don’t seem to be able to take my own advice. This is not a new habit for me, unfortunately.

After my last hospital stay, I have done everything in my power to mitigate pain. I was in so much of it that I’m having a hard time allowing myself to feel any pain whatsoever – even the pain of resisting temptation or muscle strain (in workouts). I’ve been a lazy bum. There. I said it. But, this is part of my journey. This is a low spot or valley. Pain is a different kind of valley. This journey isn’t simply a climb to the top with no pitfalls or hinderances. This is real life for a real addict. This is truth. As shameful as it feels for me, it must be admitted.

My next chemo treatment is in three days. I had a port placed in my chest about 5 days ago. I asked for a reductio in chemo drugs and a 30% reduction was agreed upon. Instead of 4 chemo drugs (one being an immunotherapy), only 3 will be administered. Apparently, one drug runs a higher risk of perforating the bowel or other nearby organs, so the risk of sepsis and bleeding is too high for me.

I had a consultation early last week telling me of all the side effects of these drugs. I told the woman (an NP) that they weren’t side effects, we just call them that to make them seem less important or scary. Chemo is poison, and poison does what poison does – there’s nothing “on the side” about it. After that comment, she referred to them as “adverse” affects.

I feel the death in that office. I was in a section of the hospital dedicated to chemo infusions. I felt the death in her voice. I felt the deadness in her spirit. This woman gets paid to educate people on all the ways chemo will hurt them. Day after day, she sees patients who she knows will be dead soon (relatively soon). I can’t imagine the toll that takes on her spirit. And, she’s just one of thousands of workers who get paid to tell people the bad news. I’m not sure you could pay me enough to be her.

On the subject of pay, I’m still on short-term disability. The lack of income is catching up to me though and I’m working on a plan to get back to work – even part-time or with physical restrictions between chemo treatments. I’m thankful for my union job, where I have advocates who will help/allow me to work when and how I can. Even part-time work will pay more than short-term disability.

Of course, with my terminal diagnosis, I can probably apply for long-term disability and then find side-jobs for cash to supplement. But, I know I won’t be dying of cancer anytime soon and once the Social Security Administration sees I’m no longer considered terminal, they will end the disability payments and I will need to go back to work. By that time, my current job will have ended and will likely not re-hire me.

These are hard choices I have to make without clear foresight. On top of needing to whip myself into shape and on top of the dietary changes I need to implement. On top of the medicines/poisons I’ll be putting in my body which prevent clear thought. This isn’t a ploy for pity. It’s just my reality right now.

But don’t feel sorry for me. I live in the most beautiful place on earth. It’s summer, warm and sunny here (most days). I’m surrounded by the most loving family you could ever imagine. I have more emotional and moral support than I could ever ask for. I’m genuinely happy and at peace in all the ways that matter most. Can I ask for more? The body will heal. The money will sort itself out. I’m too sure of these things. Stupidly sure. Stupidly optimistic.

On Saturday 31st May and Sunday 1st June May 2025, Public Health Co...

06/09/2026

This was encouraging to hear today. Went right along with my earlier post.

Access the FREE Water Fasting Masterclass Now: https://www.katiedem...

06/08/2026

Water for the win

I sit here in the weeks between chemo feeling a bit weakened, disheartened and ashamed of my inability to get back on track. That’s right – I haven’t restarted the water fast that is so vital to my healing. Today should be day 1 again (for the 7th time). You’d think a life-or-death diagnosis would be enough motivation. And of course, it’s actually a death-only diagnosis from the standpoint of modern medicine.

Isn’t it amazing that doctors can piece together broken people after a serious accident but can’t seem to do the same for chronic illnesses? I think the key element is that it’s the body that does the healing. If you cut yourself, the body mends it. If you break a bone, the body knits it back together. That’s pretty miraculous. All the doctors need to do is line up the bones or bring the skin together and the body does the rest.

And, that’s the point of the water fast. People say “eat to keep your strength” without understanding that digestion takes more energy from the body than all other daily activities combined. So, will my body heal better with more energy to spare or less? We think our body is so weak or our food is so nutritious that our body can’t live for 6 hours without another refill. Yet the opposite is true. The longer you go without food, the more your body becomes sensitized to self-healing.

I will cover this more later with quotes and details, but cancer feeds primarily on glucose (sugar…. Carbs of any kind). It uptakes sugar about four times faster than our normal cells do. So, when a person doesn’t eat any carbs/sugars or does a water fast, the body makes ketones for fuel instead. Ketones are water-soluble acids that the liver makes from fat. This is why low-carb diets and fasting cause weight loss. The body switches from burning the food (sugars) we eat to burning stored fat. This process also depletes cancer from its primary food source, making it even weaker. Cancer cannot eat ketones for fuel.

In water fasting (consuming nothing but water), the body starts making ketones within the first 24 hours. This fat-burning is a form of autophagy, where the body literally eats itself for fuel. People mistakenly think the body will eat muscle right away, but it is far too intelligent for that. Even thin people have plenty of fat (usually visceral) for the body to consume in a water fast.

By day 6 of a water fast, the body begins to not only consume fat, but also weakened, diseased cells – like polyps, scar tissue and….. cancer. Cancer cells are already weaker cells and then the lack of sugar consumption weakens them further. So, it’s no great feet for the body to use those cells for fuel. It’s interesting because cancer begins its life by feeding on the body’s life force; but with fasting, the body eats the cancer for its life force. How cool is that?

So, it’s imperative that I restart my water fast. It is the key and crux of my healing. I could simply do a strict, ketogenic diet, but that healing would be a much longer process. My goal is to avoid at least half of the planned 6 chemo treatments and then to never need chemo again as I maintain a healthy diet for the rest of my life. Easy, right? No. It’s simple but not easy.

I’ve been addicted to sugar since before I can remember. I was a naughty child, sneaking into the cookie jar every chance I got. Even now, those are habits that refuse to break. I can feel the pull for sugar the moment I wake up – “have your latte!” my brain screams. It actually starts quietly, but as soon as my body figures out that I’m attempting to not have my latte, the siren call gets louder and louder, and by 8am, I have fought that battle a thousand times. People who aren’t addicted to anything can’t usually relate. They don’t have that nagging in their mind. They haven’t fought those mental battles all morning long. They don’t know the emotional strain of the fight.

I know it well and am attempting to sit in the discomfort without trying to relieve it. That’s a different choice than fighting. It’s a new tactic for me: be uncomfortable. Discomfort is usually a signal to move or change your circumstances to fix the discomfort. But, if the comfort is killing me, then the discomfort will save me. That’s my theory anyway.

And here’s to another day 1. Water for the win.