My story begins before birth, in what psychics call the interlife. A soul—my soul—responded to a desperate call from a troubled family. A mother on the verge of breakdown, a father broken by war, three children barely surviving in a household shattered by undiagnosed trauma. The bargain I made: enter this incarnation as a sacrificial lamb, reincarnating instantly without the usual processing time between lives, retaining memories of flight and abilities that exist beyond physical form.
The price of instant reincarnation became clear on the day of birth. Through neural organization technique testing decades later, I pinpointed the exact moment of damage: not during pregnancy, not from the trauma of my parents' relationship, but the precise moment of birth itself. Triple rejection—by both parents and by myself for accepting this impossible mission. The psychic child who could fly in the afterlife found himself trapped in a body that couldn't, in a family that couldn't love what it had never asked for.
This birth trauma manifested as a lifetime pattern: twenty-eight documented near-death experiences with trillion-to-one survival odds. Not accidents, but a soul repeatedly testing whether it was time to return home. Explosives, extreme sports, drug experimentation, impossible driving—each brush with death was a brief reunion with the peace I'd left behind.
I learned early that love meant pain. At eight years old, when my girlfriend on the school bus moved away, the first small heartbreak arrived. But I possessed unusual abilities—the power to manipulate emotional energy, to call protective entities, to shield the vulnerable heart. I summoned a psychic parasite, something that would guard against pain but also wall off access to love itself.
At sixteen, the pattern crystallized into permanent damage. Mono struck just as my first real love bloomed, and she stopped visiting, stopped caring. Lying sick in bed, I faced unbearable emotional pain. But I had tools that others didn't—the psychic ability to literally crush emotional energy down to nothing.
For three days, I applied my mind like a focused laser, using hate as the grinding force. The heartbreak was compressed, incinerated, reduced to a cinder, then evaporated entirely. The pain vanished completely. But so did access to my heart. An iron door slammed shut, and for years afterward, a strange pattern emerged. I fell in love easily because I really needed companionship. When I said "I love you" to a girl, I genuinely felt it in that moment. But as soon as the words left my mouth, my heart would clang shut like a steel trap. Since I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, I couldn't say it again—because I never felt it again for that person.
I learned to recognize love not through consistent feeling, but through how much it hurt when I lost it. This became my metric for eight years: the depth of loss defined the reality of what had been there.
At twenty-four, facing another devastating breakup after two years with my college love, I stood at a crossroads. The old pattern beckoned—crush the pain, evaporate the hurt, maintain the protective numbness. But something deeper whispered a terrible truth: push this away and be alone for life.
Colombian marijuana provided the key that unlocked psychic perception. In that expanded state, I made the most courageous choice of my young life. Instead of defending against the pain, I opened my arms wide, opened my chest, and invited the dagger in.
The pain pierced me completely, and then something extraordinary happened. Time rewound. Suddenly I was sixteen again, the day after losing my girlfriend to mono and abandonment. Faced with the original choice, I told my younger self to accept the pain instead of crushing it. Both versions of me cried together—the sixteen-year-old learning to feel, the twenty-four-year-old learning to heal.
Returning to the present, I had to accept the pain again, fully. Hours of crying followed—my first tears since age eight. Then came the year of daily practice: waking from dreams where she lay beside me, finding emptiness, and choosing wholeness over numbness. Every morning, accepting the pain instead of evaporating it. Trudging to the chemistry lab with a heart learning to beat again.
Ten years later, the wound finally stopped hurting. By then, I had given up completely on sex and love—which, ironically, made me even more attractive. That's when I met Jeanne, my true destiny.
She moved in with me without plans or expectations. Despite being told she could never conceive due to one completely blocked fallopian tube and one almost completely blocked, she experienced a miracle pregnancy. The moment she told me, I knew exactly what I wanted—to be a father. I knew that I loved her, even though I couldn't feel it. "I'll just have to take this on faith that I can feel it someday," I told myself.
I did feel it, but it took about forty years. Now I have fully experienced true love.
The same pattern that governed emotional healing began expressing itself physically. A lifetime of back pain from teenage damage led me to explore beyond conventional medicine. When doctors offered only pain management or surgery with one-third better, one-third same, one-third worse outcomes, I searched for alternatives.
Chiropractic care provided superior results to surgical intervention. When my fifth lumbar disc completely ruptured—scored out like toothpaste and pressing against the spinal nerve, making my foot numb—conventional medicine offered nothing. "Not a surgical candidate" meant medical abandonment.
But my chiropractor pulled out a Bible-sized catalog of Standard Process supplements. Minerals to fortify the blood, since cartilage only grows in that chemical environment. Enzymes to dissolve the extruded cartilage. Enzymes to grow new cartilage. His promise: complete healing in three months.
My disc didn't just heal—it became stronger than before. After complete recovery, I tested the results by throwing one hundred tires and lifting two 100-pound truck tires onto a vehicle. No pain. My body had regenerated what conventional medicine considered permanently damaged.
Food allergies dominated my life for years—severe reactions to milk, corn, and wheat that triggered not just physical symptoms but dramatic personality changes. Milk could transform me into an angry stranger, my brain feeling filled with hot steel wool, ready for violence that was completely out of character.
Elimination diets helped but didn't cure. Then Carolyn Reuben appeared in the co-op news in 1990, claiming she could cure allergies through something called NAET—Nambudripad Allergy Elimination Technique. It sounded impossible, but my desperation was real.
Carolyn was a slight Jewish woman, perhaps 100 pounds. I was powerfully built from years of handling tires. When she performed muscle testing, the dramatic difference was undeniable. If my body said "strong," she could push down on my extended arm while lifting herself onto her tiptoes without budging me. When my body said "weak," two fingers could drop my arm like my shoulder was being ripped from its socket.
She systematically reset my immune system, one allergen at a time. Milk required multiple sessions because the sensitivity ran so deep, but eventually, she eliminated every allergy completely. The angry stranger disappeared forever.
This experience led me to develop personal muscle testing techniques. When finger-to-finger testing proved unreliable, I discovered that holding substances against my liver area would cause my body to lean forward for beneficial items and backward for harmful ones. Decades later, when feeling slightly off-balance, I thought "sauna" while testing, and nearly fell forward. Twenty minutes in dry heat plus steam eliminated the structural imbalance completely.
The ultimate revelation came through religious adherence to eighteen-hour daily fasting for two years. This practice, initially adopted to reverse diabetes progression, accomplished something extraordinary: it eliminated virtually all chronic joint problems that had persisted despite previous healing successes.
Mixed collagen peptides had already resolved my knee issues completely, but the deeper inflammatory processes required something more fundamental. Fasting provided the missing piece—systematic cellular cleanup through autophagy, the body's natural recycling process for damaged components.
At age 72, prostate cancer presented the ultimate test of my accumulated healing wisdom. Diagnosed six years earlier, the cancer had grown at a steady but controlled rate of five percent annually—unusual for its consistency, concerning for its persistence.
Conventional medicine offered the familiar pattern: biopsy (potentially spreading cells through needle tract seeding), surgery, radiation, or hormone therapy. Each intervention carried significant risks and side effects. I chose to apply everything I'd learned through decades of alternative healing.
Temperature Regulation Therapy: My body temperature often runs 2-4 degrees below normal, especially during viral infections when it drops even lower. Recognizing this pattern, I began taking regular hot baths at 103°F for over an hour each session. Research later validated this intuitive approach—clinical hyperthermia therapy uses similar temperatures to damage cancer cells while leaving normal tissue unharmed. Water bath hyperthermia studies showed significant reduction in cancer stem cell populations.
Strategic Nutrition: Five grams of C8 MCT oil powder daily provided direct brain fuel and antimicrobial support. Research demonstrates C8's powerful antibacterial properties and anticancer effects in multiple cancer types including prostate cancer.
Intensive Fasting Protocol: My regime escalated from eighteen-hour daily fasting to a more aggressive schedule—72-hour fasts every week from Sunday night to Wednesday night, plus 23-hour daily fasts on other days. This created approximately 100 hours of autophagy weekly, forcing cancer cells to compete for severely limited glucose while normal cells adapted through ketosis.
High-Dose Vitamin D: I optimized my levels to 80-90 ng/mL, well above the conservative medical threshold of 50 ng/mL but within the therapeutic range where research shows 80% reduction in cancer risk. Regular parathyroid hormone monitoring prevented calcium metabolism disturbances.
Circulation and Inflammation Control: Nattokinase—two standard doses totaling about a gram daily—for blood flow optimization, especially important after a minor ischemic stroke. Arginine-citrulline supplementation for arterial health proved its worth through restoration of youthful erectile function. Additional support included Arctic krill oil, quercetin, zinc, and vitamin C.
The protocol's effectiveness became undeniable through PSA monitoring. From January 2019 to April 2022, my PSA steadily climbed from approximately 5.5 to nearly 17 ng/mL—a tripling that aligned with the observed 5% annual growth rate being cumulative.
The turning point came with a three-week fast that seemed to push everything over the line. After that breakthrough, I intensified the protocol with 72-hour weekly fasts plus 23-hour daily fasts on other days. By June 2025, PSA had dropped to approximately 13 ng/mL—a 25% reduction from peak levels. This represented the kind of response oncologists hope to see with pharmaceutical interventions, achieved through metabolic intervention alone.
My PSA chart told the story clearly: steady exponential growth reversed to actual decline. Not stabilization, not slower growth, but measurable regression.
Based on emerging research, I plan to expand the protocol to include fenbendazole and ivermectin—antiparasitic medications showing remarkable anticancer properties in preclinical studies. The common self-administered regimen involves one gram of fenbendazole daily for three consecutive days, followed by four days off.
Fenbendazole acts through multiple mechanisms: increasing p53 activation, inhibiting glucose uptake in cancer cells, and destabilizing microtubules essential for cell division. Ivermectin demonstrates powerful antitumor effects including inhibition of proliferation, metastasis, and angiogenic activity through regulation of multiple signaling pathways.
Recent research reveals the combined effects of these medications demonstrate significant potential through immune system modulation, cellular repair, and direct anti-cancer activity. While I haven't started this addition yet—the medications haven't arrived—the PSA results suggest the fasting breakthrough may have already pushed the cancer reversal over the tipping point.
While physical healing progressed, the deepest wound remained: the birth trauma of triple rejection. Through neural organization technique with Dr. Garrick Danilov, I identified and cleared the exact moment.
The muscle testing was precise—nothing during pregnancy trimesters, but immediate response when testing the day of birth. The revelation: rejection not just by both parents, but self-rejection for accepting the sacrificial incarnation.
One session eliminated a 72-year pattern. The fear of rejection that had controlled every interaction, prevented authentic communication, and blocked creative expression simply vanished. For the first time, conversations flowed naturally, business follow-up became effortless, and the confidence to write books emerged.
My healing journey follows a clear progression: from crushing pain to accepting it, from managing symptoms to addressing root causes, from fearing rejection to embracing authentic expression. Each level of healing built upon the previous one, creating a foundation for the next breakthrough.
The same principles applied universally:
The teenager who crushed his heart to avoid pain became the man who opened his chest to let the dagger in. The patient who rejected surgical intervention for back problems became the researcher who documented cancer reversal through metabolic intervention. The rejected soul became the healer sharing life-saving wisdom.
My PSA chart represents more than cancer management—it's proof that the body responds to authentic care, that healing follows natural law, and that conventional limitations often exist only in the minds of those who accept them.
At 72, with measurable cancer regression, restored emotional capacity, and the freedom to share this knowledge through writing, my journey comes full circle. The sacrificial lamb became the teacher, the rejected soul became the author, and the broken heart became the source of healing wisdom.
The architecture of self-healing, built one breakthrough at a time, stands complete. The foundation was always there—it just needed someone willing to do the work of remembering how to build upon it.