Main Blog - JJ of Reno

Navigating Medical Guidelines: A Cancer Rebel’s Perspective

by Linda Wulf | Sep 8, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

Medical Guidelines

When I was diagnosed with primary central nervous system lymphoma (PCNSL) in November 2023, my doctors called it a “rare disease.” The young doctor breaking the news nearly wept as she told me my diagnosis and encouraged me with “DO NOT GOOGLE” this. When I googled it, I could see why—it was horrible! Best case scenario was a pretty short stint left on this earth. Some do better than others, the words were – incurable, but treatable.

The preferred path recommended for me was clear: high-dose chemotherapy, rituximab infusions, temozolomide, and eventually autologous stem cell transplant (ASCT). And if that failed, maybe, just maybe I would be lucky and get into a clinical trial for a new immunotherapy drug when the cancer recurred. And I was assured it would return – AGGRESSIVELY if I didn’t stick with the regimen.

Always a bit of a rebel at heart, I chose a different path.

Rather than becoming the kind of “warrior” who fights my own body with toxic regimens, I chose to be a cancer rebel. I leaned into breathwork, fasting, whole foods, meditation, exercise and chemical-free living. Along the way, I eradicated a chronic dental infection—a root cause I could clearly trace to my illness. Within months, my scans showed no active disease. These are my scans, the left taken at the Mayo Clinic – the right at Reno Diagnostics. Different technology. (Note: I may not have pulled the exact same image from the CD. I am not a radiologist, so if an expert would like to compare my scans, please reach out.)

The Limits of Guidelines

The NCCN Guidelines for PCNSL describe my cancer as the result of genetic mutations in lymphocytes, with risk factors like HIV, Epstein-Barr virus, autoimmune disease, organ transplants, or simply being old. Other than being 64, none of these applied to me. There was no mention of dental infections, environmental toxins, or other possible root causes.

As mentioned earlier, the treatments they recommended for me—methotrexate, rituximab, temozolomide, and eventually ASCT—are intense and risky. Nothing in the guidelines suggests they have any real understanding of how the cancer developed or how the body itself might help or participate in the healing process. Cure is described as rare, and clinical trials are recommended for everyone.

Not Just My Cancer

This drug-centered playbook is not unique to PCNSL. Consider prostate cancer, one of the most common cancers in men. The NCCN Guidelines for Prostate Cancer emphasize surgery, radiation, and hormone therapy, but still highlight clinical trials, recurrence management, and long-term drug dependence.

They frame the cause as “genetic changes” or “just aging.” Lifestyle is brushed aside. And while early-stage prostate cancer is labeled “often curable,” advanced cases shift right back to the same language of management, remission, and control.

Here’s the comparison in black and white:

Category	PCNSL (Brain Lymphoma)	Prostate Cancer
Main Treatments	High-dose chemo, rituximab, radiation, stem cell rescue	Surgery, radiation, hormone therapy, active surveillance, chemo for advanced
Role of Clinical Trials	Explicitly recommended for every patient; framed as a top option	Mentioned as options; pitched as cutting-edge research

The details differ, but the pattern is identical:

Narrow causes (genetics, age).
Aggressive drug/surgery protocols.
Clinical trials positioned as the “next hope.”
Pharma funding quietly underwriting the guidelines.

Where Patients Fit

In neither guideline set do patients find advice on self-care, diet, detox, or root cause exploration. Instead, the role assigned is passive: accept treatment, manage side effects, stay in line. The message is clear—control is not in your hands.

But my story, and the stories of others, show otherwise. Addressing infection, nutrition, breath, and toxins gave my body the space it needed to heal. Along the way, I learned about neurogenesis—the brain’s ability to grow new cells—and I wrote about it in “The Brain’s Amazing Ability to Regenerate: Neurogenesis & My Journey.”

That perspective—that you are not powerless—is missing from official playbooks.

Rebel, Don’t Just Comply

The NCCN guidelines are one perspective, not the only path. They are influenced by drug companies, written by panels of doctors tied to the very industry that profits from perpetual treatment.

Take what’s useful from them—but question the rest. Explore your own root causes, and above all, examine the substances you are consuming.

Look at your body not just as a battlefield but as a system capable of healing if supported. If you’d like to see the specific protocols I applied, I detailed them in “Breathing New Life into Cancer Recovery: A Data Backed Challenge to Conventional Protocols.” I’m living proof that you can rebel against the system and still find hope, healing, and clear scans.

Lastly, we need to recognize how our own governance systems are keeping us sick. I explored that in “The Toxic Web – Inadequate Governance, Overlapping Databases & Big Money Keeping America Sick.”

No Cause, No Cure

by Linda Wulf | Sep 1, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

Billions flow into drug pipelines while root causes like infection, inflammation, and chemicals are ignored.

They told me I had an ‘incurable, inoperable brain cancer.’ But the word incurable wasn’t true — it was a reflection of how our system defines cure. In medicine today, cures almost always mean drugs. And when the cause doesn’t fit that drug-first narrative, it gets ignored.

My cancer didn’t come from bad luck or a random mutation. It followed years of chronic dental infections — a connection my doctors dismissed with the words: *’We don’t do teeth.’* That single line summed up the blind spot baked into our healthcare system: it doesn’t look for causes, it looks for prescriptions.

The Incentives That Shape Medicine

Since the Orphan Drug Act of 1983, a ‘rare disease’ has been defined as one that affects fewer than 200,000 Americans. The law created powerful incentives for companies: seven years of market exclusivity, tax credits for clinical trials, and waived FDA fees. In 2002, the Rare Diseases Act expanded NIH funding, creating the Office of Rare Diseases Research. Both laws were designed to stimulate innovation — and they did. But the innovation was channeled almost exclusively toward drugs, not prevention, not causes. Billions have flowed into the pipeline.

The government doesn’t just regulate this system — it participates, benefiting from patents, royalties, and partnerships. Meanwhile, the pharmaceutical industry reaps trillions in revenues. The balance is obvious: cures are defined as drugs, not as eliminating the conditions that cause disease in the first place.

A Timeline of Oversight—and Abandonment

The government once had a more balanced approach. In 1958, the Food Additives Amendment created the ‘generally recognized as safe’ (GRAS) category. By 1969, FDA launched the SCOGS program, where independent scientific panels reviewed hundreds of food chemicals. Those reviews concluded in 1982, and no significant removals followed. After that, independent oversight was suspended. In 1983, the Orphan Drug Act shifted the focus squarely toward drugs.

In 1997, FDA proposed a new rule allowing companies to self-certify chemical safety with voluntary notification to the agency. By 2016, the GRAS rule was finalized — not by Congress, but internally by the FDA Commissioner, an appointed official. That single decision cemented a framework where industry now polices itself.

Meanwhile, in 2009, the EPA launched the Endocrine Disruptor Screening Program (EDSP), its first formal attempt to evaluate endocrine-disrupting chemicals (EDCs). But here too, the promise fell flat. As the Inspector General confirmed in 2021, after more than a decade of screening, **not a single EDC has been removed from U.S. products.**

What Gets Ignored

When the system tilts this far toward pharmaceuticals, what gets left behind are the real root causes of disease. Chronic infections. Inflammation. Endocrine-disrupting chemicals. Environmental exposures. Metabolic dysfunction tied to our diets. Each of these can drive disease, yet none of them come with tax credits, exclusivity periods, or billion-dollar incentives. Instead, we pour billions into trials for the next drug, while causes remain unaddressed.

The Bigger Picture

The policies guiding rare diseases were designed with good intentions, but the outcome has been predictable. Billions have been spent on research and drug development, while independent reviews of food chemicals were halted decades ago and endocrine disruptor screening has produced no removals. Patients like me are told our diseases are genetic, mysterious, or ‘bad luck,’ even when the cause may be as basic as a chronic infection. I was told my disease was ‘incurable,’ yet I have no disease. Until root causes are addressed, patients will remain trapped in a drug-first system — a system that is not broken, but working exactly as designed.

The Brain’s Amazing Ability to Regenerate: Neurogenesis & My Journey

by Linda Wulf | Aug 16, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

In November 2023, I was diagnosed with Primary CNS Lymphoma (PCNSL), an inoperable tumor located in my corpus callosum—the thick band of nerve fibers that connects the two sides of the brain and coordinates thinking, movement, and emotion. By June 2025, my MRIs showed no active cancer. This is not just a story of surviving brain cancer—it is the story of the brain’s remarkable ability to repair itself through natural pathways like neurogenesis and neuroplasticity.

What is Neurogenesis?

Neurogenesis is the process by which the brain creates new neurons—nerve cells that send and receive signals. For decades, scientists believed this only happened during childhood. That assumption changed in the late 20th century. In 1998, a landmark Nature Medicine study showed that neurogenesis occurs in adults, even up to age 72. In 2025, a Science paper confirmed this again using advanced genetic tools. These discoveries prove the adult brain is not fixed, but capable of renewal.

For a relatable explanation, neuroscientist Sandrine Thuret’s TED Talk makes this concept accessible.

What is Neuroplasticity?

Neuroplasticity is the brain’s ability to rewire itself by strengthening or weakening connections between neurons. The idea dates back to William James in 1890, but scientific evidence built gradually over the 20th century. By the mid-1900s, researchers showed that animal brains reorganized after injury. Today, neuroplasticity is recognized as a lifelong ability.

Neurogenesis and neuroplasticity work hand in hand: neurogenesis supplies new neurons, while neuroplasticity integrates them into functional circuits. As neuroscientist Andrew Huberman and Dr. Michael Kilgard explained in an August 2025 episode of the Huberman Lab podcast, neuroplasticity requires focus, alertness, effort, reflection, and sleep—conditions that allow the brain to rewire itself. Their discussion emphasized how neuromodulators like dopamine, acetylcholine, serotonin, and norepinephrine play critical roles in this process. Episode link: https://go.hubermanlab.com/0LbwBp4

Identifying the Source of Inflammation

A crucial piece of my journey was identifying and removing a hidden source of inflammation: a chronic dental infection. I believe this infection likely overstimulated my immune system, contributing to the lymphoma’s growth. When it was finally treated and the infection removed in 2024, my body could redirect its healing response. By itself, eliminating the infection didn’t explain my recovery—but it created the conditions where my body’s natural repair systems, including neurogenesis, could take hold.

MRI Evidence of Brain Repair

My MRIs illustrate the transformation:

Figure 1. MRI comparison: November 2023 (5 cm tumor visible) vs June 2025 (no active disease).

When I shared these images online, AI analyst @Agent_IsaacX described the changes as “remarkable neuroplasticity.” While I cannot biopsy my brain to prove new neurons, these before-and-after scans strongly suggest repair consistent with neurogenesis and neuroplasticity.

Why This Matters

For brain cancer survivors—and for anyone facing neurological challenges—the discovery that the adult brain can create new cells and rewire itself offers real hope. My journey highlights how the brain’s innate regenerative processes can be activated and sustained. It shows the brain is not static—it can adapt, heal, and surprise us with its resilience.

Closing Message

This is more than my personal story. It is evidence of the brain’s ability to regenerate and reorganize itself through neurogenesis and neuroplasticity. The science is clear, and my scans provide living proof: the human brain can repair itself.

Linda Wulf, Cancer Thriver. Follow @Wulf6Wulf on X or lkwulf1.substack.com.

References

Eriksson, P. S., et al. (1998). Neurogenesis in the adult human hippocampus. Nature Medicine. https://www.nature.com/articles/nm1198_1313
Dumitru, I., et al. (2025). Identification of proliferating neural progenitors in the adult human hippocampus. Science. https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/science.adu9575
Thuret, S. (2015). You can grow new brain cells. Here’s how. TED Talk. https://www.ted.com/talks/sandrine_thuret_you_can_grow_new_brain_cells_here_s_how
Huberman, A. & Kilgard, M. (2025). The Science of Neuroplasticity. Huberman Lab Podcast. https://go.hubermanlab.com/0LbwBp4

Last Year When I had Brain Cancer – Defying cancer, Searching for Truth

by Linda Wulf | Aug 15, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

Content Warning:

This essay discusses cancer, medical trauma and contains strong language, which may be triggering.

Spoiler Alert of Brain Cancer

I’m absolutely fine—better than ever, actually. Older, yes, and certain I’ll die one day—but not from brain cancer, not from the treatments, and definitely not anytime soon. No, it wasn’t a misdiagnosis, and yes, contrary to popular opinion, the body can heal itself.

It’s been a wild ride since December 3, 2023, when I scribbled in my journal: “Sitting at Mayo, expecting a brain tumor diagnosis.” In those early days, my thoughts were simple. When your brain’s a mess, articulating what’s happening is tough. But for caretakers of someone who seems impaired, trust me: we hear everything. I heard my husband mumbling about my outbursts, the doctor saying, “That doesn’t make sense,” and me, unable to clarify.

Two days later, on December 5, 2023, I journaled:

The tumor was inoperable but treatable. Chemotherapy could stop its progression. We awaited pathology reports.

Countless tests—MRIs, PET scans, biopsies, blood draws—led to the diagnosis: Primary CNS DLBCL—Central Nervous System Diffuse Large B-Cell Lymphoma. Grok, an AI assistant, summarizes: It’s a rare (1,500–1,700 cases yearly), aggressive lymphoma, treated with methotrexate. Five-year survival is 30–50%.

The prognosis felt bleak, but I was relieved—so relieved—it wasn’t Alzheimer’s, unlike my mom and five aunts. It explained my struggles: botched recipes, car crashes, hallucinations. I’d watched my parents die—Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s—and vowed I’d rather drop dead than linger in a nursing home, medicated into oblivion.

My husband, Tim, faced the awful choice—guided by experts in a life-or-death rush. On November 27, 2023, after a family intervention—Tim and my stepson, Andrew, all but carrying me to Mayo—I arrived disoriented, albeit clearer from antibiotics started days earlier for a chronic dental infection, battled with quarterly visits for three decades. Over 13 days, Mayo was my universe: MRIs, CT scans, brain biopsy, spinal taps, EEGs, blood draws. Antibiotics tackled the infection; steroids calmed brain inflammation. It made sense—clear the infection, shrink the swelling and stabilize the chaos.

By December 8, methotrexate began, a Primary CNS DLBCL standard, but the protocols stopped making sense to me. On December 18, I dug into PubMed, emailing Dr. Mrugala a study on titanium implant neurotoxicity and CNS Lymphoma¹, suspecting my 2011 dental implant. No reply. On December 21, a facial CT scan—likely from my complaints—went nowhere. When I demanded a titanium blood test, a resident shrugged, “What would we do with that? We don’t do teeth.” In my foggy mind, I thought, “Can’t you see the connection between my lymph system and my inflamed gums, inches away?

During downtime, I reflected on vomiting incidents—first beer, first cigarette, and years ago, nearly puking entering a church I’d run from, a gut-punch rejection of something that felt wrong. My body knew poison, chemical or not. On my first day of at-home chemotherapy, I took temozolomide (Temodar) without anti-nausea meds—thinking I could tough it out. Within minutes, I was lying on the bathroom floor or hugging the toilet, vomiting.

The tile’s coolness eased the retching; my thoughts spiraled: I can’t do this. Why didn’t I call friends with cancer? I suck for being a bad friend. Thank God for temozolomide. I’d been giving thanks for everything, good or bad. Days later, an epiphany: RAT BASTARDS! Anti-nausea pills masked temozolomide’s poison. I researched and learned temozolomide—unproven for lymphoma, meant for glioblastoma, with claims it could “get past the blood-brain barrier”—could wreck my lymphocytes. That dissolving sensation in my head from that chemotherapy week? I’d feel it again 72 hours into my first fast to induce neural autophagy.

I stopped temozolomide after that week, but methotrexate lingered. On January 17, 2024, I arrived for my fourth in-hospital methotrexate, defiant, wanting my teeth fixed. My husband, terrified of losing me, insisted I listen to the experts. Reluctantly, I went but refused anti-nausea meds to let my body react. Dr. Walker, a young resident, implied I’d lost my mind, suggesting my cognitive functions were impaired. I challenged him to check my recent cognitive tests. I didn’t want to be tossed out of Mayo or “divorced” from Dr. Mrugala, one of the world’s best. What if I was wrong about my teeth and the tumor returned? I’d lose precious time.

So, I let my guard down and shared my vomiting insights—cigarettes, alcohol, that church moment. An hour later, the neuro-oncology team gathered, eyeing me like a wild card: Dr. Mrugala, head of neuro-oncology, smiled curiously; the floor doctor, a sharp Jewish woman in her 30s, insisted I not puke on her floor; Dr. Walker stood with them, having listened. I held up my “FEAR NOT” vision, my mantra since November:

“WE are fearfully and wonderfully made².”

“And F*!# cancer!

“It’s my teeth—you don’t see it? One last methotrexate, then I fix my teeth.” On January 21, 2024, I stopped all chemo. I ordered a $119 titanium blood test through Request A Test³, which confirmed traces of titanium, though nothing else. On February 2, 2024, my dentist confirmed an ongoing infection in my problematic tooth, fueling my resolve. My next essay, “Power in the Blood,” reveals how I stumbled into healing through breath.

Notes

Shelly et al., “Potential neurotoxicity of titanium implants: Prospective, in-vivo and in-vitro study,” Biomaterials, 2021 (pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/34352627/).
Adapted from Psalm 139:14, New International Version: “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+139%3A14&version=NIV).
Request A Test is an online service for ordering lab tests, including titanium blood tests (requestatest.com).

Tags: #CancerSurvivor #BrainCancer #HealthJourney #BreathHealing #BigPharma #Substack

Unseen and Unnoticed: Realizing the Chemical Load in Our Modern Lives

by Linda Wulf | Jul 21, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

Realizing the Chemical Load

About this time last year—July 2024—I started doing one of those strange and sobering things people do when they begin consciously preparing for the end: clearing out clutter, sorting through forgotten corners of the house, and asking what matters. That beautiful July day, I found myself sorting through my stuff, trying to make things easier for whoever might someday have to deal with it—asking: What to keep? What to toss? Why do I even have this?

While scanning my shelves for books I could let go of, I paused at a volume that had followed me through several moves. I had boxed it up and shipped it west over a decade earlier from my mother’s house, when I was helping her relocate for what would be her final days. She passed in 2014, but the book had remained unread on my shelves ever since—until now, when I was beginning to contemplate my own demise.

The book was titled Du Pont: The Autobiography of an American Enterprise, published in 1952 to commemorate the company’s 150th anniversary. Inside was a mimeographed letter addressed to my mom, who had worked in Du Pont’s advertising department that year.

What ultimately caught my attention wasn’t the corporate history but a curious image printed on page 5: the “Bill of Mortality for Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for A.D. 1802.” A stark ledger of the 152 people who died that year in a small New England city. The typed and handwritten entries listed causes of death from “Aphtha” to “Suicide,” and I found myself drawn in—not just by the details, but by the contrast to now. What were we dying from then, compared to today?

Figure 1: Bill of Mortality, Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 1802, printed in DuPont: The Autobiography of an American Enterprise (1952), showing 152 deaths, mostly from infectious diseases like cholera, measles, and whooping cough. Only three cancer cases were noted, with minimal neurological mentions.

As I studied the faded image, the differences were profound. In 1802, only three deaths were attributed to cancer and none to heart disease—conditions that today account for nearly half of all U.S. deaths. Neurological illnesses were also uncommon, with just twelve cases listed under older terms like “apoplexy,” “epilepsy,” and “palsy.” Instead, the ledger was filled with infectious threats: measles, cholera, whooping cough, and dysentery.

Of the 152 total deaths recorded in Portsmouth that year, 50 were children under the age of 15, including six premature births. In a world with no antibiotics, no vaccines, and poor sanitation, the greatest threat to life was microbial—not metabolic. Chronic illness was rare, and survival into old age, while possible, was far from guaranteed.

By the 1930s, the landscape of death had shifted dramatically. Infectious diseases that once dominated life had been largely tamed by antibiotics, vaccines, clean water systems, and public health reforms. In 1906, the Pure Food and Drugs Act was passed, and enforcement was assigned to the Bureau of Chemistry—the early predecessor to today’s FDA. It wasn’t until 1930 that the modern Food and Drug Administration was officially named. These were triumphs. Life expectancy rose. The killers of 1802 were, it seemed, under control.

But as I lingered over that 1802 ledger, a different question came into focus: If we’d conquered those ancient plagues, why are we now dying from cancer, heart disease, and neurological disorders at rates unimaginable two centuries ago?

That’s When It Hit Me

We had traded one threat for another. Microbes for molecules. Today, the average American body is exposed to thousands of synthetic chemicals—every single day. And not in trace amounts. These are in our food, our packaging, our personal care products, our medicine cabinets—even the supplements we take to “stay healthy.” Unlike the short, violent threat of infection, this chemical load accumulates—quietly, invisibly—until something breaks.

As I began researching what became my article, The Toxic Web, I discovered the scale of the problem: 7,157 unique chemicals are actively used across FDA databases for food, drugs, packaging, and personal care products. Many have never undergone a meaningful safety review. Others were grandfathered in decades ago under loopholes like GRAS—”Generally Recognized as Safe”—which allow companies to self-certify ingredients without oversight.

And so my “aha” moment wasn’t just academic—it was personal. I realized: this is what we’re up against now.

So I made a change. A real one. I stopped waiting for someone to protect me. I eliminated every unnecessary chemical I could find—starting with my plate and my shower. No additives. No preservatives. No medications, over the counter or otherwise unless there was a clear, tested need. No more synthetic lotions, no more “natural” products with mystery ingredients. I cleaned up what went in and what went on.

This wasn’t a rejection of science. It was a return to balance. A conscious choice to stop feeding the silent storm brewing inside me.

Once I understood the scale of the chemical load we’re all living under, I began to do something both radical and simple: I started paying attention.

Not in a paranoid way. In a quiet, curious way. I began watching my body—closely—for how it responded to chemicals. I had downloaded the Yuka app months before, but now I was more aggressive, scanning every label I could find. What was in my lotion? My shampoo? My toothpaste? My almond butter? Every product had a backstory—often a toxic one. Most people around me assumed that if it was on a shelf, it must be safe. But I had stopped believing that. And what I started noticing confirmed my doubts.

Let Me Share with You One Moment in Particular

It was my granddaughter Bexly’s birthday, August 3, 2024. I went to her party trying to strike the balance I’d been practicing—avoiding additives without being a pain. I don’t want to be the crazy “Lola” who won’t eat anything. So that evening, I skipped the bottled salad dressing (most contain endocrine disruptors), had a little bit of salad greens knowing it might carry some pesticide residue, and then joined in the celebration: Papa Murphy’s pizza and a slice of commercially prepared birthday cake—frosted in its cotton-candy-colored glory.

I felt fine that night. It was so good—I hadn’t indulged in a sweet cake treat in months. But the next morning at 7 a.m., I stood up and was completely surprised by what happened. I jumped up and immediately realized my balance was completely off. The room was shaky. I wasn’t dizzy in the usual sense—I was disoriented. My equilibrium had collapsed. It took until nearly 1 p.m. before I started feeling normal again, like I could walk without tripping or falling.

In hindsight, I realized I had experienced a delayed neurotoxic response. The vivid dyes in that cake frosting—like Red 40 and Blue 1—are flagged by Yuka and others as neurotoxic and endocrine-disrupting. My nervous system had taken the hit. That incident wasn’t a fluke—it was my body’s response to the tiny bit of neurotoxins in that cake.

It occurred to me at that moment that maybe doctors shouldn’t just ask us “old folks” if we’re feeling off balance—they should be asking what kind of birthday cake we ate last night.

From that point on, I became meticulous and diligent about noticing. I cut out unnecessary chemicals wherever I could—ditching synthetic lotions, shampoos, and soaps. I had stopped taking supplements years earlier, after watching a close friend rapidly decline from glioblastoma. I couldn’t help but wonder whether the concentrated compounds she’d taken in an effort to “stay healthy” had, ironically, hastened her decline. It was only a hunch—but strong enough to change my behavior at the time.

I buy organic whenever possible. I practiced delayed eating—12 to 14 hours regularly. And I paid close attention to my own reactions—especially to subtle shifts: dry eyes, brain fog, mood changes, and fatigue. These became signals. Data points. Feedback.

This wasn’t about fear. It was about awareness—the act of noticing of listening to a body that had been shouting all along but had gone unheard.

And still, I live. I go out. I laugh with friends. I eat in restaurants—carefully. I don’t let vigilance turn into obsession. But now, I live by one rule: if I can avoid it, I will.

Because once you start noticing, you can’t unsee it. And once your body shows you the cost, you stop pretending the price is acceptable.

So that’s where I’ll leave this—for now. Just notice. Start there. Your body might be saying more than you think. Mine was.

Breathing New Life into Cancer Recovery: A Data-Backed Challenge to Conventional Protocols

by Linda Wulf | Jun 28, 2025 | Main Blog | 0 comments

Data-backed remission after stopping chemotherapy. Breath, fasting, whole-food nutrition, and chemical-free living proved more than supportive—they may have been the key.

By Linda Wulf

When I was diagnosed with primary CNS lymphoma in November 2023, I faced what medicine typically labels a grim prognosis. The lesion—deep in the corpus callosum—was declared inoperable. I underwent four chemotherapy sessions between December and January, but after reviewing the risks, the lack of testing for my cancer type, and the impact on my immune system, I made a different decision.

I stopped chemotherapy in January 2024—Cancer Recovery.

The decision to stop chemotherapy was a pivotal moment in my journey towards Cancer Recovery. I realized that taking control of my health was essential in my fight against this disease.

Since that time, I’ve followed a non-traditional but carefully reasoned path: breathwork, fasting, whole-food nutrition, and chemical-free living. It wasn’t about rejecting science—it was about asking the kind of questions science hasn’t yet fully answered.
Seventeen months later, the data is in: I remain stable, symptom-free, and stronger than ever.

Embracing a holistic approach, I discovered that each aspect of my lifestyle contributed to my Cancer Recovery. Breathwork, nutrition, and more became part of my healing process.

The Scans Tell the Story

Here is what my medical records show:

November 28, 2023 (Mayo Clinic): A large tumor in the corpus callosum, likely CNS lymphoma, measuring nearly 5 cm.
January 4, 2024: Scan taken during chemotherapy cycle shows “significantly decreased zone of T2 signal abnormality.”
February 17, 2024: Continued improvement with “moderately decreased enhancement.”
April 13, 2024: Mild residual lesion; no new abnormalities.
July 17, 2024: No residual contrast enhancement. Described as “likely secondary to treated lymphoma.”
October 30, 2024 ( non-contrast): Mild increase in brain signal noted, though no IV contrast was used to confirm active enhancement. I believe this was likely related to a dental infection that had not yet fully resolved.**
June 19, 2025 (most recent): Stable post-biopsy changes. No masses. No new white matter signal abnormalities. No active disease.
Since January 2024, I’ve had zero chemotherapy—and no confirmed tumor progression. This was clinically reaffirmed by my June 2025 MRI: no progression, no enhancement, no active disease.

** The October scan—while initially concerning—aligned with an ongoing dental issue. I had undergone a new implant procedure on June 12, 2024; the implant was noted to be loose by late June. On August 7, 2024, the implant was removed and infection was again confirmed. In hindsight, I believe the October scan reflected my body’s immune response to this lingering infection, not cancer progression.

What Changed: A Different Protocol

Instead of continuing chemotherapy beyond four sessions, I took a different path based on four key interventions:

Breathwork

What began as a spiritual practice became, unexpectedly, a therapeutic tool grounded in measurable outcomes. I began practicing deep breathing on my own—largely freestyle but similar in rhythm to box breathing—well before I ever read James Nestor’s book. Months later, I discovered Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art and realized that some of his recommended techniques closely mirrored what I was already doing. His book outlines several scientifically supported methods.

I particularly recommend readers explore the breath-holding techniques and gentle head movements that, in my experience, seem to facilitate lymph fluid movement in the neck and head. These complemented practices like Wim Hof’s method, Buteyko breathing, and the protocols discussed across several episodes of Andrew Huberman’s podcast. Each episode covers different techniques with scientific depth—focusing on oxygen efficiency, tolerance, vagus nerve stimulation, and nervous system regulation. What started as a spiritual ritual morphed into biochemical experiments for me.

Breathwork may have done more than support my immune system—it helped eliminate something deeper. I’ve long believed my cancer originated from a chronic dental infection. Initially when I arrived at Mayo, I was given heavy antibiotics. Before I finalized the decision to leave chemotherapy, I visited my periodontist. It was during that visit that I began to realize that the breathwork had started to address the chronic aspect of the infection—its deep, embedded toxicity—was finally beginning to resolve itself. I now believe breathwork played a pivotal role in helping my body push out what had been stuck for decades.

The integration of various practices played a significant role in my Cancer Recovery. I learned how addressing every facet of health could lead to remarkable outcomes.

Fasting & Autophagy

Early in the journey, inspired by physicians like Dr. Pradeep Jamnadas, I used intermittent and extended fasting to stimulate autophagy and mitophagy—mechanisms that promote the cleanup of damaged or malfunctioning cells, supporting neurological repair and systemic healing. Longer fasts—especially those lasting 48–72 hours—have been shown to protect hematopoietic stem cells and promote immune system regeneration by reducing IGF-1 and PKA signaling, even reversing chemotherapy-induced immunosuppression (Hine & Mitchell, 2014).

Whole-Food Nutrition

While fasting gave my cells time to clean house, the fuel they used had to be clean. I focused on nutrient-dense whole foods—organic vegetables, fruits, eggs, and lean proteins. I eliminated processed foods and refined sugars entirely. It was simple: if it wasn’t real, I didn’t eat it. That included so-called “health” products like supplements and protein powders – because no matter how well-marketed, [they] are not real food. The energy mitochondria produce depends on the quality of the food we give them. No energy in, no healing out.

Chemical-Free Living

The more I learn, the less I consume. Well before my diagnosis, I had eliminated synthetic vitamins. At the time I was diagnosised I eliminated all sugar and anything I believed might interfere with healing. But over the past year, my awareness of endocrine-disrupting chemicals—in foods, packaging, personal care products, pharmaceuticals, over the counter drugs and household environments—has deepened. Today, I actively work to eliminate those chemicals from every part of my life. This late-stage realization has become essential to sustaining health and reducing cellular stress. I now view chemical-free living not as a preference, but as a foundation for long-term healing and resilience.

By minimizing toxins, I enhanced my body’s ability to pursue Cancer Recovery. This awareness was crucial in my journey towards optimal health.

Challenging the Protocol

The standard treatment for primary CNS lymphoma typically includes high-dose methotrexate and, in some cases, temozolomide (Temodar). But as I discovered through lived experience, many of the drugs prescribed for rare cancers—especially aggressive brain tumors—are experimental in nature, even if that fact isn’t always clearly communicated.
Temozolomide, for instance, is not FDA-approved for primary CNS lymphoma, yet it was included in my regimen. It is well-documented to deplete lymphocytes—the very immune cells my body needed to recover and defend itself. I had a violent reaction to it and stopped taking it almost immediately.

I also experienced severe or adverse responses to several other medications: rituximab, which triggered a dangerous reaction; leucovorin, which left me deeply depleted; and vancomycin, which led to an official allergy designation. At the time, I may have been told that some of these drugs were off-label or non-standard—but I can’t say I fully grasped the implications. In hindsight, I realize I had entered a protocol where trial-and-error was the norm.

And that’s the quiet truth few patients with rare diseases are told: we are often enrolled in real-time drug experimentation without the benefit of fully informed consent.

Eventually, I chose to step away. I stopped participating in the cycle. I chose to listen to my body, my scans, and my experience.
And the results have spoken for themselves.

This Isn’t Just Personal—It’s a Call to Reassess

This journey is not just personal; it represents a collective need for change in the approach to Cancer Recovery. We must explore all avenues available to us.

There is a need for brave questioning within modern oncology. I’m not claiming breath cures cancer. I’m not suggesting fasting alone eradicates tumors. But I am saying this: the body has capacities we ignore—and when supported properly, they can change outcomes in ways that don’t yet fit into standard charts.

Through my personal experience, I advocate for a broader understanding of Cancer Recovery. There’s a wealth of knowledge in our bodies that deserves exploration.

I’m stable. I’m thriving. And my last MRI shows no signs of tumor activity 17 months after stopping chemotherapy. If that doesn’t warrant investigation, what does?

This is not medical advice, nor a recommendation to abandon treatment. It is a lived account of one person’s experience—and an invitation to question what we think we know.

References:

Huberman Lab Podcast: https://www.hubermanlab.com — multiple episodes explore breathwork physiology; I recommend browsing to find what speaks to you.
Nestor, James. Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art. Riverhead Books, 2020.
Hof, Wim. The Wim Hof Method. Sounds True, 2020.
Buteyko Clinic: https://buteykoclinic.com
Jamnadas, Pradeep. Galen Foundation. https://www.galenfoundation.org
YouTube Video Fasting for Survival
Russell, R., et al. “Autophagy regulation by nutrient signaling.” Cell Research, 2014.
https://www.nature.com/articles/cr2013166
Hine, C., & Mitchell, J. R. (2014). Saying no to drugs: Fasting protects hematopoietic stem cells from chemotherapy and aging. Cell Stem Cell, 14(6), 704–705. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.stem.2014.05.016
US Food & Drug Administration. TEMODAR (temozolomide) Prescribing Information, Schering-Plough/Merck, 2016.

« Older Entries

Next Entries »