The plot thickens . . .

My patient summary and supporting records arrived at the renegade NY doctor’s office early this morning and was reviewed by the two principal physicians. I spoke with the front office today and was told that they have some additional questions before they commit to meeting with me for a consultation appointment.

Now before I revisit the ensuing conversation with the staffer, please remember that these are real MDs with real medical degrees from real medical schools. But some components of their program do not pass the straight-face test with their MD colleagues. That doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t want to waste my precious time with quacks, but at the same time I really do need to break out of the ineffective “same old, same old” mentality that’s so pervasive when shopping around for cancer treatments.

Also, please remember that I’ve been on a strictly vegetarian, modified “macrobiotic” diet for more than a month. Something about starving the cancer of protein-rich animal products . . .

Staffer: “Are you familiar with the treatment program?”
Paul: “Yes, I’ve read the literature. I know that it has nutritional, enzyme supplement, and detoxification components.”
Staffer: “Are you willing to eat red meat?”

Wow. They have three basic programs, depending on the type of cancer; strict vegetarian, an Atkins-style red meat program, and a combination of the two. Had I hit the jackpot here?

Paul: “I have no problem eating red meat. Is that the diet they’d recommend?”
Staffer: “I think so.”

Interesting. I always try to reconcile new information against old data. It always perplexed me that my first episode with cancer followed a two-year period of vegetarianism. I think I was typical of many vegetarian converts in that the meat products that I had previously eaten were supplanted by an endless stream of soy analogs. Anyway, one of the pancreatic enzymes that this treatment protocol utilizes is allegedly involved in controlling cell growth and development. And soy allegedly contains one of the most potent natural inhibitors of that enzyme. Hmmm . . .

Staffer: “Can you swallow 180 to 200 pills per day?”
Paul: “Wow. I think so.”
Staffer: “The protocol involves two coffee enemas per day. Would you be willing to do that?”
Paul: “I’m in it to win it.”

I’m hoping that little detail is an acquired “taste”, so to speak. In any event, everything else being equal I’d rather have Starbucks in my bowels than poison in my veins.

I seem to be passing the audition so far. Next came some questions relating to my congestive heart failure.

Staffer: “How many pillows do you need at night?”
Paul: “Just one.”
Staffer: “So you’re able to sleep lying flat?”
Paul: “Yes. Since reducing my sodium intake to near zero, there is no longer any fluid buildup in my lungs.”
Staffer: “Do you have any swelling of the feet?”
Paul: “Occasionally. But it’s relatively minor and usually follows a day of increased sodium intake.”

We’re heading into the home stretch now.

Staffer: “Are you taking any medication?”
Paul: “None.”
Staffer: “Are you considering any other treatments?”
Paul: “Yes. Clinical trials of some new chemo agents.”
Staffer: “Okay. The doctors will review this information. Please call back on Monday afternoon.”

We’ll see what they have to say on Monday. If they are willing to consider me as a prospective patient, they will certainly be held to the same level of scrutiny that all the other white-coats are. Namely, what are you offering me, how hard is your data, and how abusive is your treatment? The risk-benefit ratio, baby, it’s all about the risk-benefit ratio.

I’m not going to have that juicy prime rib tonight, but I just may dream about it . . .