The cause of cancer has been known for more than 80 years. It was a discovery made by Otto Warburg in the 1930’s, for which he won the Nobel Prize:
The first thing to understand is that there is one and only one reason cells grow into cancer. It is a lack of sufficient oxygen to a certain subset of the 210 different types of cells known to make up the human body. This is called hypoxia.
Warburg found that by reducing the available oxygen to human cells, he could turn them, at will, into undifferentiated cancer cells. People look at cancer as some alien invading force, forgetting that every cell comes from a cell. Cancer cells are human cells that survived a dangerous environment by resorting to glucose as an energy source instead of oxygen. The waste products of these cells are acidic, which accounts for the acidic nature of tissues around tumours, but this suits them fine as oxygen is of no use and even repugnant to them. Hemoglobin – the marvellous little oxygen delivery vehicle with four sprung iron platforms – doesn’t work well in an acidic environment, one reason why the body keeps blood at an alkaline level by ingenious fail-safe mechanisms. The tissues are another matter though, and become acidic if the blood has to draw alkalinity from them to keep itself in balance.
You can check your own levels of alkalinity using pH strips on your saliva. pH is actually a measure of the electrical state of cells, since it depends on what are actually vast amounts of hydrogen ions. Amalgam fillings, as an example, put out a positive electrical measurement instead of the desired negative one – and you can verify this for yourself with a millivolt meter applied to the filling.
The main culprit – though not the only one – causing the gradual asphyxiation of human cells was presumed in Warburg’s time to be the steadily growing supply of food-grade plastics which kept much better on the shelf and in factories, ideal for any country preparing for war. Margarine behaves more like plastic than food because the fat molecules which human cells need for respiration have been hydrogenated (where hydrogen ions have been passed over them to stop their tendency to oxidate and go stale) and lose their electrical charge in the process; thus, instead of carrying a cloud of highly active pi electrons into the cells, they form themselves into a mesh which the cells are unable to use. Molecules are so small that one teaspoon of margarine would be enough to supply 50,000 such useless fat molecules to every cell in your body.
Dr Joanna Budwig, another genius from Germany, came up with a diet which included special fatty acids which combined with cottage cheese carry an electrical charge into the cells, including cancerous ones, and can turn them to normally respiring cells again. In fact a very good friend of mine was diagnosed last year with vocal cord cancer, spotted very early on via her croaky voice. The hospital was ready to slice the vocal cords up, requiring “speech therapy” afterwards. For a vivacious single woman of 30, this was an ominous situation. I suggested she ask for a stay of execution while she tried the Budwig diet for a few weeks. Such was her trust in me that she did exactly that, and duly went back a few weeks later for a second biopsy – which came up completely clear of cancer cells.
Understandably she had her doubts, as cottage cheese and flax oil hardly has the ring of a high powered cure. So she asked if the original sample might, perhaps, have been okay after all? No, she was told, the original sample was crammed with cancer cells, hence the audible damage to her voice, and the surgeon’s urgency. Then maybe, she suggested, the second biopsy had cancer cells that weren’t detected? No, she was told, the second biopsy had generous margins and was completely, 100% clear, only containing normal cells. That was the end of the matter, and shows how easy stage I cancer can be reversed through diet alone.
Cells are very big compared to a fat molecule (in an idle moment I once worked out if a cell had the diameter of the M25 motorway surrounding London, a single fat molecule would fit into a bathtub) but even so, a diet filled with processed food, various hydrogenated oils and very few vegetables, combined with a stressful life, is a sure ticket to cancer sooner or later. This is why one in two of us will get cancer today, up from about 1 in 100 over a century ago. It’s not because cancer is better diagnosed: cancer has been around and identified for as long as we have records of human physicians. While food-grade plastics didn’t exist in Hippocrates’ day, somehow cancer did.
But we all have a phenomenal immune system, and part of that immune system is a cell called a macrophage, a word meaning “big eater”. This is the original PacMan – except the macrophages have tentacles to grab and materials to engulf its prey, and weapons to shoot oxygen into the victim to break the cell wall and enable the recycling of the contents.
The weapons these killers use are mounted on and constructed of molecules which are unaffected by free radicals – superoxide dismutase among them (found in melons, as it happens) – so that no harm comes to the macrophage itself. When they’re at work, their oxygen use goes up by a factor of 100 times. This is supreme engineering. It’s also why fresh air and sunshine are essential to health – we need vitamin D and we need oxygen! And I guess melons won’t hurt either. As it turns out, I haven’t found any natural food that isn’t anti-cancer, pro-immune, pro-heart, or pro-brain in some way. The natural world is the mother to mankind, and we tinker with what she produces at our own risk.
Cancer is also part of life, and it has the kind of ingenuity all other life shows: the tumour cell produces an enzyme called alpha-N-acetyl-galactosaminidase, or Nagalase for short. This enzyme is a long-range bullet aimed in a manner worthy of man’s best sniper. What it does is pounce on a single amino acid site among thousands in a vitamin-d derived protein, and in that single hit, disables the whole thing. The protein it sabotages is the trigger producing something called GcMAF (a macrophage activator) which in turn is equivalent to a starter battery for macrophages.
We all get cancer every day; the macrophages stamp on it efficiently and we go our merry way, none the wiser. But let’s say at some point we have a traumatic shock or a period of prolonged stress. Stress hormones dampen the immune system and if this is allowed to go on long enough the cancer cells can start to get the edge, producing nagalase all the while. Beyond a certain point, the macrophages can’t stamp on the cells quick enough to keep up with the steadily mounting flow of sniper bullets tending to thin their production line and put them to sleep. Nagalase is also released by viruses, so the immune has some work to do keeping on top of all these things.
The half life of tissue macrophages extends to months, whereas the half life of nagalase is less than a day; this was assumed after experiments in which mouse tumours were surgically removed, where the blood showed normal nagalase readings the next day.
By the time a tumour is detectable there are hundreds of millions of cells clumped together, a year or two down the road. In the 1970’s, cancer specialist Dr Carl Simonton observed that all his cancer patients seemed to have experienced a severe emotional trauma a year or two beforehand, though he couldn’t have known the mechanism behind it. But it makes no difference whether you know the molecular goings-on or not: once the immune’s frontline killers are asleep, you’re sailing down the proverbial creek without the required paddle.
There are only two ways to deal with cancer, apart from ignoring it: one is to trust a standard medical professional and do whatever they tell you. The other way is to try to understand what’s happening so you can make your own decisions, whatever they may be. The problem with medical professionals is that the only cures they accept for cancer (mandated by law in some countries) besides surgery, is a chemical or radioactive blast on your body, causing massive collateral damage. The immune system is the first victim – ironic indeed. Even removing the tumour doesn’t help unless the state of the tissue milieu which produced it is taken into account. Modern professionals treat the tumour in isolation as if it represented the start and finish of the whole problem, instead of seeing it as the final act in a long system-wide drama, and something the immune system itself would safely take care of without any damage to normal cells if only it could.
What “alternative” practitioners do is treat the immune system. Legally, they can’t even say they treat cancer, but this suits them fine, as they’re not treating cancer at all. Ignoring the immune is a bit like carefully fixing damage to a car driven by a drunk driver, then handing the driver a thermos of whiskey and sending him on his way. Well, it’s not exactly like that, but you get the gist.
Some Australian oncologists did a detailed study (erring in the favour of chemo wherever the situation was in doubt) and concluded chemo only contributes to five year survival in about 2% of cases; chemo even turns healthy cells into tumour cells, as later research showed. My own essays last year describe how tumour cells come up with ingenious pumps to capture and eject chemo molecules, and share the DNA code between cells so that all can benefit. Since chemo is only aimed at the 15-20% of tumour cells trying to reproduce at any time, a few cycles of chemo are enough time for tumour cells to study the molecule, educate themselves, and become “multiple drug resistant”.
This is a deadly condition for anyone relying on standard medical tools, and in whom the immune has already been torched in an effort to hack away at a tumour, forgetting completely the health of the patient themselves. In fact it’s a common hope that the tumour will be killed before the patient. In another rather gruesome joke oncologists turn up at the funeral of one of their patients and try to prise open the coffin lid, wanting “to try just one more thing”. Tumours might well break up, but its component cells can travel far and wide in an immune-free body, and grow back at their leisure, using the same mechanisms as before.
There’s no doubt doctors mean well, but they’re human, and drug companies do a good job selling them on every new tweak of a basically dangerous product. One well-meaning doctor put me on Tarceva – a targeted epithelial cell chemo priced at $3000 per month, or $100 per tiny pill – to see what would happen. After that he’d wanted to try Nexava, at $10,000 per month or $333 per pill! The pills seemed innocuous enough, but in under four days of half a pill per day my skin started to erupt so I politely discontinued it. Months later, long after I’d left the clinic, one of their nurses confided she was glad I had rejected it. Why’s that? Because every patient they’d put on it had died.
But wherever consciousness is at work, an answer will present itself sooner or later, and that is the case here: a product called GcMAF. GcMAF is a natural product we all carry in our bodies, so having more creates no side effects at all, and its isolation and manufacture is the result of 20 years research by a Dr Yamamoto. I’ve been on it for three months already. When I first started taking it, I had already been unable to yawn for about four months, as the tumours must have infiltrated the deep seated muscular mechanisms somehow. It hurt! Within two weeks I found I could yawn with only moderate pain, my diary at the time recording the suspicious note, “still some pain – could be false alarm”. Pessimism notwithstanding, within one month I was yawning virtually without pain at all – a phenomenal reversal in only four weeks, of the disease’s progress over several months.
While I was attending the GcMAF clinic in Lausanne a bright and energetic woman from Toronto found in her second week that her abdominal tumours were no longer detectable via the daily ultrasound scans. She had three small children at home who had all asked a stunned Father Christmas in his Grotto to make their mum better again. Such indeed was the case, by Christmas day! An understandably pessimistic fellow from the UK who’d tried numerous therapies on hs pancreatic tumours without success was watching them dissolve via the scans, but added ominously that there must be some mistake, because a surgeon in London had already told him it was impossible. I only stayed a week, so I can’t say what became of him, but it looked very promising.
A measure of nagalase is therefore a very effective measure of tumour activity. The normal range measurement is .32 – .95 while mine was 3.8, on the 3rd of February. I’ve had a sample taken every 2 weeks since then. Nagalase is so new that the UK is totally bewildered by it. It is utterly futile to expect a doctor trained a decade ago largely by pharma-sponsored courses, and inundated ever since with a flood of daily stresses, to know all about it. Even among alternative clinics it is something new and not wholly understood.
The only place I could find to test it was in the Netherlands, and they take six weeks to turn it around. Full of hope, I asked my GP’s office if they would take a sample from me, freeze it and send overnight via FedEx. The nurse was perplexed: “But what colour container should we use?” I said they could use a wine bottle for all I cared. They declined, saying they had no equipment to freeze it, but the main sticking point seemed to be they didn’t want to risk sending it anywhere. I said I would take it, freeze it and send it myself but they were horrified, since as you can imagine this violated every NHS rule ever written.
The hospital haematology department was more interested but it ended the same way: after asking for a full explanation of everything to do with nagalase they admitted the whole freezing and sending to people they didn’t know was too far beyond their ken. That only left Wimpole Street and Harley Street to fill the market niche, at a suitable cost. I only today received the first reading and can’t yet say if it’s going up or down. Luckily I’m keeping track of everything I eat or inject, which means I should be able to duplicate successful lowerings and find the source of any unwelcome increases. For all I know it may be falling like a stone; we’ll see in two weeks.
And so there we have it – it’s true that squamous cell carcinoma is notoriously difficult to eradicate, as it has a few other tricks up its sleeve, like the production of TNF inhibitors to frustrate even a finely honed immune system. Eventually, I did actually visit a clinic which specialised in the removal of these inhibitors; it wasn’t cheap, and the anaesthetist in charge of their patients and admin confided in me that if she ever had breast cancer, she wouldn’t have that treatment – she’d just have the breasts removed. That set alarm bells ringing but I ignored them, and the results were a little too dramatic for my liking, but that’s a story for another day.