9 Lives & Counting

Cancer

My Journey

Life 9. Cancer, round two. Still counting

Where things stand

Season 2 chemo closed at 9 rounds — final round June 4, 2026
CRS+HIPEC surgery July 15, 2026, Champalimaud (Lisbon) — CC-0
Pathology July 28, 2026 — PCI 5
Now: recovery and surveillance, scans every 3 months

Thirty Days

cancer

crs hipec

August 14, 2026

Today marks thirty days since my surgery. My surgeon told me it takes thirty days to get back to a semi-normal physical life, and the thing I've been looking forward to most is getting back into the ocean. The first week out of the hospital, I was pumped to restart my life. Monday: the dads' coffee. Tuesday: cold plunge with the crew — I only waded in and had a coffee. Wednesday: The Odyssey at the IMAX with a group of guys. Thursday: a 35-minute walk with Henning. Friday: lunch with Tina to…

cancer

crs hipec

July 28, 2026

I met with my surgeon today to go over the pathology — the final read on everything they cut out of me during the CRS+HIPEC surgery two weeks ago. Best news the report could have carried. Start with the lesions first found back in November. Chemo shrank them so far that my last scans showed nothing at all — a complete imaging response. But not visible was never the same as gone. The surgeon took them out, and pathology confirmed what we already assumed: cancer, every one of them. That's the…

cancer

crs hipec

July 22, 2026

“I need to collect payment of €500, Mr. Craig. How would you like to pay?” “I’ll pay by Visa.” “Great. Please wait here for the surgeon to collect you. Your wife and son may join you in the changing room.” That was 7:30 am one week ago today. Hugs and kisses to Tina and Soren at 7:50, and by 8:00 I was on the surgical table for my CRS HIPEC surgery. The anesthesiologist and I exchanged pleasantries, then came the word that I was going under. “Boa noite,” I said. Moments later — to me, anyway —…

cancer

crs hipec

July 2, 2026

11:25 am — My phone rings. "Hello, Mr. Craig. I'll meet you at the right door of reception 2," says the Champalimaud attendant. Tina and I meet him at the door for our 11:00 am appointment with the surgeon, and he escorts us to Doctor Cunha's office. "So you have completed all your tests." "Yes, I have." "Your EKG is fine, and you met with the nurse today?" "No, I met with her last week." "And your last chemotherapy was on 2 June?" "Yes, it was," Tina answers, and I confirm. He studies his…

cancer

crs hipec

June 26, 2026

My latest MRI and CT came back clear. No visible cancer. But no visible cancer only means the machines can't see it — not that it's gone. We're moving ahead with cytoreductive surgery anyway. CRS is exactly what it sounds like: cutting the cancer out. Normally you do that when the scans light up and tell you where to go. Mine don't. So how does the surgery find what the imaging can't? First guess: cameras. Laparoscopy, a few ports, a screen. More likely they open me up — both sides of the…

chemotherapy

travel

June 25, 2026

21 Chemos, No Castle Chemo #9 is done — June 4th — which brings the grand total to 21 chemotherapy treatments. Going into #9 I had a lot of muscle pain in my neck and back. So in a strange way, I was looking forward to it — the steroid pills come with the treatment. They felt great for about five days, then wore off the following week, right as we drove to Spain. The Spain trip started back in January, when Soren said: Dad, will you look up the Ludovico Einaudi concert tour? Who? Ludovico…

Life 5

May 29, 2026

January 7–9, 2006 We took the 9 a.m. train from Tangier to Casablanca and learned immediately that "assigned seating" was optional at best. We never made it to the seats. The car packed out before we could get past the entry, so we stood the whole way in the vestibule by the doors, crammed in around the bathrooms with everyone who hadn't made it farther. Tina and I held that spot for three of the five hours, wedged in the middle, riding the sway of the train like it was part of the ticket…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

May 27, 2026

A few weeks ago, a CT and MRI came back with an astonishing result — no visible cancer. Two days later, an ultrasound of my thyroid. Nothing to do with the current fight, just a standard follow-up to cancer #1, almost six years ago now. Yesterday I met with my endocrinologist at Champalimaud, same office area as my oncologist. We started 45 minutes late. Another reminder: always book mornings. The afternoons are always late. He ran through the bloodwork — TSH, Free T4, Thyroglobulin,…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 5

May 24, 2026

We Were Aliens Twenty-one years ago today, Tina and I crossed the Mekong from Thailand into Laos and booked what the guesthouse sold as a one-day trip to Luang Namtha — a boat down the river, then a truck the rest of the way. It took two days, cost us more than we'd agreed to, and left us overnight in a village no one had sold us. This is how it went. 2005 The immigration officer in Huay Xai held out his hand for thirty baht. I started reaching for my pocket, then stopped. Why am I paying this…

cancer

chemotherapy

crs hipec

May 23, 2026

I received the radiologist's report from my recent MRI and CT, and it's better than expected. When I met with the CRS+HIPEC surgeon this week, he mentioned that two of the four lesions were no longer detectable. But the radiologist went further: complete imaging response. None of the nodules show up anymore — not the peri-hepatic implants near the liver, not the pelvic implants behind the sigmoid. Two scans, two modalities, same day, same conclusion. I'm ecstatic. I'm also cautiously…

cancer

chemotherapy

crs hipec

May 19, 2026

Nein NineOr so I thought, as Tina and I drove to Champalimaud for the surgeon consultation. Last week I did the imaging — a CT and an MRI — and we'd been waiting on the read. My oncologist called at the end of the day yesterday. Five minutes. She was canceling chemo #9 because the tumors had shrunk, canceling our meeting, and leaving me with just the surgeon consult. I asked if she could email me the radiologist's report. Not complete yet. So I'd walk into the surgeon meeting without knowing…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 3

May 15, 2026

1995 "Let's go climb the Kate Shelley Bridge. We'll rappel off it before sunrise." Steve tossed his keys on the counter, and the night was already over — or should have been. We'd just come back from a party. Nothing special. Restless, wired, not ready to sleep. He'd taught me to rappel six months earlier. His father had climbed the same bridge with two-year-old Steve strapped to his back. Steve was studying veterinary medicine now, like his dad had. None of that was why he wanted to go. He…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 9

May 13, 2026

The first thing I wanted out of the storage unit in Ankeny was my cue. I've owned it since 1994. It fits like an old glove. I wanted it with me in Waterloo, on my parents' table — the same table my dad scooted me around on a kitchen chair before I could see over the rail. I wanted it every morning at the Cedar Falls community center, where my parents now play. Coming home to Portugal from this trip, I realized how much I miss playing pool. Not just any pool. American pool. And it reminded me…

cancer

crs

hipec

May 13, 2026

Facebook itself is mostly a turd of a product, but the diamond in the rough is the groups. They helped us research the move to Portugal. They've helped us navigate life here. Now they're helping me prep for surgery. Recently, I was in a HIPEC Facebook group and came across a post recommending I do myself a favor — buy a spirometer now and start using it immediately. That intrigued me. So I started digging. Why a spirometer matters for CRS+HIPEC CRS+HIPEC is one of the hardest surgeries you can…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 3

May 12, 2026

Labor Day Weekend, 1994 It was the start of my sophomore year at Iowa State. Earlier that day, my new roommates and I had gone rappelling with Steve — an ex–Army Ranger we'd met freshman year. He coached us through knots, anchors, and controlled descents, the mechanics drilled until they felt procedural. By the time we got back to Ames, we were still wired. That night blurred the way college nights often did — house parties, music bleeding onto porches, a red Solo cup sweating in my hand long…

Chemotherapy

May 12, 2026

Day 1, I feel almost normal. Day 4, my body hurts. I wanted to know why. Most people on FOLFIRI notice the pattern. Few of us actually understand the mechanism. So I went digging. Days 1–2: The Steroid Illusion Before each infusion, they hit me with dexamethasone (roids — sadly, not the kind that build muscle). I covered corticosteroids in a previous post. Short version: it's a powerful anti-inflammatory, given mainly to control nausea, and it shuts down inflammation across the body. The result…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

May 6, 2026

Back in the poison chair today. I was supposed to be here two days ago. The previous Friday was a Portuguese holiday. I went to get blood drawn, and my place in Cascais was closed. They were probably open Saturday morning. I forgot. On Monday morning, I had the blood draw done after dropping Soren off at school, and, as expected, I was told the results wouldn't be back until the next day. I drove to Champalimaud, told my oncologist I didn't have my bloodwork, and asked if that would prevent…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

May 1, 2026

The CEO Never Stops WorkingI wrote a post a few weeks ago about being the CEO of your cancer journey — organizing your records, knowing your case, showing up to every appointment already briefed. That post was about building the foundation. This one is about what happens when you actually use it. The Gap in the RecordsOnce my medical files were consolidated — labs, imaging, pathology, chemo history — I could see the whole picture for the first time. That's the value of the work. Not just having…

Travel

April 30, 2026

Most of you know Tina, and I spent a year traveling the world in 2005–2006. Nobody knew the word "blog" yet. But I was a web developer, so instead of mass-emailing updates, I built a simple admin page where we could log in from internet cafés and post travelogues. I already owned craigandtina.com — originally our destination wedding site from Playa del Carmen in 2003. We'd done a coin flip to decide whose name came first. I repurposed it before we left in February 2005 and renamed it Cubicle…

Travel

Chemotherapy

April 26, 2026

I'm back. Did you miss me? I missed this — the process of blabbing about my life. Some of you I talk to in real life; we discuss these posts over coffee or a walk. I've intentionally kept comments off the site. Two reasons: I built this thing from scratch and only code features when I need them, and I have zero interest in spending time blocking bot spam. So. Where have I been? My brother-in-law passed away unexpectedly in late January. We chose Easter break to fly to Iowa, be with family, and…

cancer

March 30, 2026

$7,235.94 That's what Memorial Sloan Kettering quoted me for a single consultation visit. One afternoon. Some blood draws. A surgeon across a desk. I'll get to the number. First, the setup. I'm currently on FOLFIRI at Champalimaud — one of Europe's better cancer research institutions, as it happens, sitting 25 km from my house. My care here is solid. But the surgery I'm working toward — cytoreductive surgery, possibly with HIPEC — is highly specialized, and I want multiple expert opinions…

cancer

chemotherapy

March 26, 2026

Feeling Better Cycle 6 hasn't hit me as hard as the previous ones. Day 0 — infusion day — came with the usual heavy head. Days 1 and 2 have historically been rough. This time, less so. One change I made: I stopped drinking 2–3 cups of coffee in the morning on infusion days. That may have helped. The sun being out is not a maybe — that's the difference. It's been a long, rainy winter in Portugal. When you're groggy and the sky is gray, the couch wins. And laying around too much has its own…

Nurition

Cancer

Chemotherapy

March 26, 2026

The Nutrition Page Got Smarter. Here's Why. I've updated the nutrition section on this site — not a cosmetic refresh, a full overhaul. Part of preparing for CRS+HIPEC surgery consultations has meant organizing every health record I have into a structured format — labs, imaging, pathology, the works. Once it's all in one place, you can query it. Ask it questions. And it turns out, when you ask the right questions, the answers change what you're doing. The original page was built for a generic…

cancer

March 20, 2026

I thought I was hot shit. I built an 18-page PDF — a master health profile. Page one: a quick summary of my current cancer status, something an oncologist could scan in sixty seconds. A table of contents with clickable links to every section. Five years of history: thyroid cancer, pathology report summaries, abnormal bloodwork trends. The whole picture, organized, cross-referenced, ready to hand off. I sent it to my parents. I sent it to Kaiser. "Check out this badass document I created." So…

cancer

crs hipec

crs epic

March 19, 2026

Memorial Sloan Kettering doesn't do HIPEC. Not for colorectal peritoneal metastases. After PRODIGE 7 was published in 2021, the surgical oncology world had to reckon with an uncomfortable finding: adding oxaliplatin-based HIPEC to CRS showed no survival benefit over CRS alone and was associated with more complications. Many centers continued to offer HIPEC anyway, citing different drug protocols or patient selection criteria. MSK moved toward Cytoreductive Surgery (CRS) combined with EPIC —…

cancer

March 18, 2026

Nobody handed me a job description when I got diagnosed. No onboarding. No org chart. Just a diagnosis, a referral, and a waiting room. I didn't wait to get organized. Day one, I was already building the plan. The Problem With Being a PatientThe default mode is passive. You show up, you listen, you follow instructions. Your doctor knows things you don't. That's true. But my doctors are also managing a full roster of patients across multiple institutions, in at least two languages, while I'm…

cancer

chemotherapy

crs hipec

March 11, 2026

Today is chemo #5, and I'm writing this from the chemo chair — poison pumping into my body like soldiers on a seek-and-destroy mission. Cue Metallica's aforementioned song if you want to enter my headspace. Wow, I sound like a douchebag. My high school self would punch me in the face just for using the word "aforementioned" — let alone using it alongside Metallica. I'm sure Kaiser will do me the honor next time we meet. First word that popped into my head. I'm sticking with it. Before treatment…

cancer

crs hipec

March 7, 2026

The total poison load in my chemo cocktail was reduced last week. The heavy head feeling was better, but the fatigue dragged on longer than ever. I made it to meetings Monday morning, then tapped out and took Monday and Tuesday off. On Wednesday, I was still running on fumes, but I pushed through. In my good week, head clear, I'm back in CEO mode on my cancer journey. I continued researching CRS+HIPEC surgeons, and through a Facebook group — HIPEC Support Group — I found Dr. Armando Sardi at…

cancer

crs hipec

March 3, 2026

Can a U.S. expat living abroad use ACA insurance to cover a $400,000+ cancer surgery? I'm a 50+ year-old U.S. citizen living in Portugal with a cancer diagnosis that requires CRS+HIPEC surgery — one of the most complex abdominal procedures performed anywhere. At a major academic cancer center in the United States, the uninsured cost runs $200,000–$400,000+. The goal: legally obtain U.S. health insurance through the Affordable Care Act (ACA) Marketplace, cap out-of-pocket costs at $10,600, and…

cancer

chemotherapy

crs hipec

March 2, 2026

Where I Am Right NowStage IV colorectal adenocarcinoma. The short version: diagnosed, completed 12 cycles of FOLFOX, recurred in the liver nine months later, reclassified as Stage IV. Now on FOLFIRI — with a measurable response. My latest MRI came back better than expected. The cancer deposits — subcapsular implants on the liver surface and two pelvic implants — have all shrunk significantly. One liver implant went from 28×21mm down to 15×3mm. That is not a rounding error. The chemotherapy is…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 2

February 26, 2026

Spring of '93. Graduation was close enough to taste. The warm and inviting sun poured through the car windows as my buddies and I returned from lunch, the pulse of Metallica blaring from the stereo. It felt nothing short of a sin to return to the grim classroom's confinements after enduring yet another relentless Iowa winter. My next class was American Lit. Sam had the same class earlier that day and told me there was a sub — a rare stroke of luck this close to summer. He also had insider…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

February 25, 2026

Today marks the start of chemo episode four of season two, and it drops me straight back into the analogy I built during season one. The one that inevitably triggers Down in a Hole by Alice in Chains, looping in my head. Chemo feels like being kicked into a hole. The chemo monster shows up and shoves me in. It takes days of crawling, inch by inch, just to reach the surface again. And when you do, you're more battered than the last time. Most people only see me when I resurface. They don't see…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 9

February 25, 2026

More than a decade ago, when I first read The Master Key System by Charles F. Haanel, I was a developer who had not yet fully recognized that I was drifting into software consulting. The book did not teach me technical skills. It sharpened something else — clarity of vision. I stopped seeing myself as the person writing code in the background. I started seeing myself as the person in the room — interpreting systems, diagnosing workflow loopholes, translating complexity into decisions. The…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 3

February 24, 2026

1996 Ledges State Park sits a few miles south of Boone, Iowa — the same stretch of countryside where the Kate Shelley Bridge cuts across the Des Moines River Valley. I'd never been there before. The place was new to me, but the reason I went wasn't. Someone had mentioned an adventure. A small group of guys planned a hike that weekend and asked if I wanted to tag along. One of them was Kaiser. I didn't know him well — maybe a few run-ins through a mutual friend. He was from the Loo too, though…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

February 23, 2026

Not Formula 1. FoundationOne CDx. A month ago, I dropped €3,600 to have my tumor genetically profiled. Today I sat down with my oncologist to review the results. FoundationOne CDx analyzes hundreds of cancer-related genes in tumor tissue to identify driver mutations, biomarkers like MSI and TMB, FDA-approved targeted therapies, and clinical trial matches. It's a DNA-level blueprint of the cancer. My results: KRAS G12V mutation, MSI-Stable, low tumor mutational burden (4 muts/Mb), HRD-negative,…

cancer

February 22, 2026

Shrinkage — not the kind from a cold plunge. The last MRI restuls are in... The cancer is still present — but everything measurable has shrunk. The implants remain on the surface of the liver, not inside the tissue itself, and in the pelvis. What changed is their size: The implant near liver segment VII went from 19 × 6 mm down to 13 × 1 mm. The implant near segment VI went from 28 × 21 mm down to 15 × 3 mm — a substantial reduction. The two pelvic implants dropped from 15 mm to 11 mm and 13 mm…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 1

February 21, 2026

1986 The Woods were our first training ground — a tangle of trees and hills behind Jon's house on Columbia Avenue, just a block from Heath Street where I grew up. Decades of runoff had carved the hills into earthen ramps that could launch a bike, a sled, or a kid with more confidence than coordination. The trees — spindly young maples, saplings, and thin trunks — were our safety nets, angled just enough to let you grab hold mid-jump and ride them downward like a kid-sized rappel down an uneven…

cancer

February 19, 2026

Still no word on my CT and MRI results. Tuesday was Carnival in Portugal — an official holiday — but in practice, much of the country shuts down for the entire week. Soren's home for winter break, so realistically, I'm not expecting anything yet. But Tom Petty keeps looping in my head: The waiting is the hardest part. I spent a large chunk of my younger life in bars playing pool, and Tom Petty was the jukebox. His songs were the soundtrack of those years. Tina and I saw him at Red Rocks on his…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 8

February 17, 2026

Something bit me on the neck. I was at my desk in Denver — working, not doing anything interesting — when I felt it. Couldn't tell you what it was. Probably a boxelder bug. Those flat, red-striped freeloaders are everywhere in Colorado, and while they're not exactly known for biting, I wasn't about to rule it out. Whatever it was, I swatted at it, went back to my screen, and forgot about it. Then a lump showed up. Slow at first. Just a firmness under the skin, behind my right ear, tucked along…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 1

February 17, 2026

1988 There's a moment in every kid's life when you realize the world runs on rules — and that some people follow them, and others... test them. I didn't test them to be rebellious. I tested them because I didn't stop to ask whether I was supposed to. And the thing about edges is: once you find one, you start wondering where the next one is. * * * By eighth grade, Sam and I had turned Waterloo into our personal proving ground. We rode bikes everywhere — streets, trails, parking lots, The Woods —…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 1

February 16, 2026

On Christmas morning in 1982, my older brother Jason and I excitedly tore through the wrapping paper, uncovering the classic BB gun—the same one Ralphie nearly shot his eye out with in A Christmas Story. We were thrilled, but our excitement died the moment we saw the window. The Iowa winter raged outside, rendering our new toy useless in the biting wind and snow. Dad, always prepared, handed us another box. Inside was the solution: a BB gun trap—a steel box with a black front panel and bright…

cancer

chemotherapy

nutrition

February 15, 2026

I was talking to my mom last night when she casually mentioned something she'd recently learned: there are two types of cinnamon, and one can be hard on the liver. Wait, what? Really? I use cinnamon daily in my coffee. Since moving to Portugal, I've been drinking instant coffee, which isn't great, but cinnamon and milk make it tolerable. Back in the States, I had a wonderful coffee maker with a hopper on top that ground the beans on the fly. I loved that machine. After ten years—and just before…

cancer

February 12, 2026

The Rollercoaster ContinuesThis journey is always a rollercoaster — and yesterday was no exception. I got a call from Champalimaud last night: their MRI machine is broken, so I can only do a PET scan. I was secretly kind of happy — the MRI machine's confinement is claustrophobic, and I've never loved being stuffed into that tube. The trade-off? Another drive to Lisbon in rush hour traffic, which stretches a 25-minute trip into 45. But first, the good news. I popped my first Prednisone pill at…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 4

February 11, 2026

The Last Rack In 2002, I played in the U.S. Amateur Pool Tournament in Laurel, Maryland. To get there, I had to be one of the top players in the APA league and one of two winners from a qualifying tournament. Denver was one of only twelve cities in the country to host a qualifier, and ours was held at Shakespeare's pool hall. The same pool hall I played in after getting laid off from Spiremedia. The same one, only a few miles from my house. This tournament would be my last hurrah with pool. I…

cancer

February 10, 2026

I got the results from my latest PET scan. And the headline is the one every cancer patient wants to read: No evidence of active cancer. The scan showed no signs of recurrence or spread. Even better, areas around my liver and peritoneum that had previously shown activity have regressed. The official conclusion: a "favorable (apparently complete) metabolic response to therapy." In plain English — the chemo is working. There is no active disease showing up on imaging. That's about as strong a…

9 Lives & Counting

Life 1

February 9, 2026

1987 Just past The Woods, the neighborhood dissolved into something wilder. A fenced-off quarry opened up first — a small lake at its center, deer wandering the edges like they owned it. The guy who owned the land had built himself a floating house out on the water, like he was hiding from the world. Every time we pushed through the fence, it felt like finding buried treasure. Beyond the quarry was where things got serious: a junkyard full of wrecked cars, and right next to it, the railyard.…

Chemotherapy

February 6, 2026

As expected, chemotherapy did not happen today, even though it was on the schedule. Because of the last-minute PET scan on Friday, I did not go in for bloodwork and did not expect to receive the scan results by this morning. Given that, I assumed chemo would be postponed. I called my oncologist to confirm, and today’s treatment was officially cancelled, saving me an unnecessary drive to Lisbon. My oncologist does not want to make any treatment decisions until the PET scan results are back. We…

Cancer

Chemotherapy

February 6, 2026

I had my PET scan today. It was scheduled in the usual Portuguese fashion. My oncologist requested the scan on Monday. At 3:00 p.m. on Thursday, I got a call telling me to be there at 9:30 a.m. Friday morning. At least it got done in 5 days. I not sure I could say the same in the States. Why the PET scanI've been dealing with systemic pain across my chest, back, and neck. That combination raised concern. After consulting both Dr. GPT and my oncologist, we agreed the right move was a PET scan to…

cancer

chemotherapy

February 2, 2026

Time to get serious about this clavicle and shoulder pain. This can’t keep dragging on while my strength erodes. I need mobility, strength, and pain control to keep moving forward through this. This didn’t come out of nowhere. After season one, episode two of chemo, I finally got back into the ocean. I’d been craving it since May. Cancer had hit pause on everything. Guincho was firing on the north side—rising tide, closer to high than low. I was cooked, caught a wave all the way in, felt…

chemotherapy

exercise

nutrition

February 1, 2026

Looks like I'm back on track. I submitted bloodwork earlier Saturday. The results came back the same day, but I waited until Sunday morning to open them. Creatine kinase dropped from off-the-charts high—1123 U/L to 83 U/L. The normal range is range 46–171 U/L. Overall, the bloodwork was good. • CK normalized • Kidney function stable • No lingering muscle damage Clear confirmation that I overdid it in the gym—and that stopping fixed it. The correction worked. What;s still concerning CRP is 3.10…

chemotherapy

January 27, 2026

Today was supposed to be episode four of chemo season two. Instead, it turned into a reminder that some setbacks are self-inflicted. In a previous post, I wrote about the pain I’ve been dealing with. Turns out, part of it is on me. On Friday, I did an upper-body workout and pushed too hard. I’ve been trying to keep things conservative—only two gym sessions a week, low weight, and only during my good week. Mondays are lower body. Fridays are upper body. Simple. Controlled. Sensible. Or so I…

cancer

chemotherapy

January 26, 2026

How am I doing? The ongoing question. The honest answer: I feel like shit. My body never fully recovered from chemo, season one. Nine months post-chemo, I was *close* to normal—but I’d already been told full recovery can take up to five years. I finished season two, episode three almost two weeks ago. Episode four starts tomorrow. And I’m dealing with systemic pain. Primarily: shoulders, neck, clavicle, lower back, and my big left toe. Season one chemo was **FOLFOX**. The “OX” is…

cancer

chemotherapy

nutrition

January 25, 2026

What Autophagy Actually Is Autophagy is your body's cellular recycling program. When you go without eating for an extended period, your cells start breaking down old, damaged, or worn-out parts and reusing them for energy or repairs. It's not some exotic new discovery—your body does this naturally at a low level all the time. Now, here's an important distinction I need to clear up: autophagy and ketosis are not the same thing, though they often get lumped together. Ketosis is a metabolic state…

cancer

nutrition

January 25, 2026

After learning how to properly prepare broccoli—chop, wait, cook gently—I assumed the lesson ended there. End of story. It doesn't. Cruciferous vegetables don't naturally contain large amounts of sulforaphane or indoles in their active form. Instead, they store precursors called glucosinolates. Myrosinase is the enzyme that converts those precursors into biologically active compounds when the plant is damaged by cutting, chewing, or crushing. Myrosinase doesn't have to come from the same…

cancer

nutrition

January 24, 2026

While researching nutrition strategies to put my body in the strongest possible position to fight cancer again, cruciferous vegetables consistently rose to the top. I still have to slow down to pronounce it correctly: [kroo-sif-er-uhs]. This does not mean these foods "kill cancer." They don't. What the evidence supports is more restrained: cruciferous vegetables contain compounds that can modulate pathways involved in cancer growth, detoxification, inflammation, and cellular stress. In other…

cancer

chemotherapy

January 21, 2026

I want to confirm a few technical details about my diagnosis and treatment and clarify whether any complementary approaches raise concerns. 1. Tumor Classification (Confirmation) Can you confirm that my tumor classification is correct? -- MMR status: MSS / pMMR -- Meaning: Microsatellite stable; mismatch repair proficient 2. Immunogenetics What is my HLA (human leukocyte antigen) type? -- Has this already been tested? -- If not, is there value in testing it now? 3. Compatibility With Eastern /…

cancer

adjunctive support

January 20, 2026

I want to clarify something when I talk about neuropathy. I don't mean cold sensitivity. I mean nerve damage. In my case, it shows up as pain when pressure is applied to the top of my left big toe. This wasn't happening last week. It started after my third chemo treatment, which matters. On day 7, I also woke up with significant back and neck stiffness—tight enough that turning my head was difficult. The day before, I did low-intensity lower-body weights, and combined with chemo, that's a…

cancer

chemotherapy

nutrition

January 20, 2026

As season 2 of chemo cycles began, I wanted a tool to help me decide when and what to eat. I built a simple chemo helper to track these foods, supplements, and timing across each cycle. Today, I wanted to learn more about omega-3s from food. What are the benefits of Omega-3s, and why only on certain days? Why omega-3 matters Omega-3s (specifically EPA and DHA from food) help during chemo because they address what treatment stresses most after the drugs stop circulating. Used at the right time,…

cancer

adjunctive support

January 19, 2026

My acupuncturist recommended this reading as background on Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) approaches to chemo side effects: Chemo Herb Support (PDF). I’m not taking anything based on theory alone. The goal here is simple: identify a short list of lower-risk herbs to review with my oncologist first, rather than sending a large formula with unknown interaction risks. MY MEDICAL CONSTRAINTS - Chemo regimen: FOLFIRI (irinotecan + 5-FU ± leucovorin) - Key metabolism issue: Irinotecan is…

cancer

January 18, 2026

How do you feel? How was the last chemo? I appreciate the care and concern, but answering those questions over and over is becoming overwhelming. It pulls energy away from healing. In general, chemo sucks. There’s always some level of inflammation or pain somewhere in my body. Here’s the routine: Tuesday (Day 0) Five-plus hours at the hospital getting the chemo drip. I’m sent home with a portable pump that delivers poison into my body for the next 48 hours. Wednesday (Day 1) The worst day.…

cancer

January 17, 2026

I’ve reached a chapter in my life I never imagined at 51. The Reaper isn’t a metaphor anymore. He’s scratching at the door. My odds of survival feel like two bullets in a revolver—maybe less. This can be a curse. It can also be a gift. Most people die suddenly and leave chaos behind—unanswered questions, emotional landmines, and impossible decisions dumped on the people they love most. I have something they don’t: time. Time to decide. Time to be explicit. Time to remove doubt. One of the most…