When a Lump in My Neck Led Me Down an Unexpected Path: My Follicular Lymphoma Journey
The Discovery That Changed Everything
About ten months ago, I felt something I couldn't ignore—a lump in my neck. At 63, I considered myself reasonably healthy. I rode my road bike or hopped on the Peloton daily, maintained what I thought was a decent diet, and kept active. But that lump demanded attention.
What followed was a cascade of medical appointments, tests, and waiting. A biopsy of lymph nodes in my abdomen in December. A PET scan in March that lit up not just the neck node and abdominal nodes, but also my right tonsil—a surprise even to my doctors. The diagnosis came back: follicular lymphoma (FL). The staging placed me above stage 3 due to the multiple affected sites.
Looking back at earlier CT scans, I can now see signs I'd missed. For years—literally as long as my brother can remember—I'd had what I dismissed as a "bad habit" of constantly clearing my throat. I never connected it to my tonsils until now. How long had this been cooking? There's no way to know.
An Unlikely Preparation
Here's where the story takes an interesting turn. About three years ago, completely unrelated to any health concerns, I'd become fascinated with longevity research. It started with David Sinclair's book "Lifespan" and spiraled into a deep dive into fasting, caloric restriction, short and long-chain fatty acids, IGF-1, and mitochondrial metabolism. I discovered Peter Attia, Mary Newport, and others in this space, spending countless hours trying to separate legitimate science from pseudoscience and anecdotal claims.
When I heard about the episode Chris Hemsworth did on fasting with Dr. Attia in his "Limitless" series, my curiosity peaked. I decided to experiment with a true water-only fast to see how it would feel. My first 48-hour fast wasn't nearly as brutal as I'd anticipated. A week later, my wife suggested we try another two-day fast together. After that second round, I discovered I'd lost over 15 pounds. My weight, which had always hovered between 205-210 pounds, was suddenly dropping. We eat mostly home-cooked meals from scratch—avoiding processed foods has always been our style—so the weight came back slowly over about four months. Since then, I've incorporated regular 12+ hour fasts at least three times a month, and my weight has stabilized around 190-195 pounds.
Connecting the Dots
After the pathology results came back in January confirming FL, my wife and I dove into research mode. She had practical concerns—we cruise at least twice a year and spend significant time in Vegas. She wanted to understand how any treatment might impact our plans. My interest ran in a different direction: What was the relationship between cancer and everything I'd learned about mitochondrial metabolism?
I'm fortunate that my wife is a PACU nurse with 20 years of ER experience. She's seen it all, and her medical knowledge has been invaluable in navigating this journey. When I came across stories from other FL patients who had tried extended fasting, including one member who attempted a 21-day fast, I was intrigued but cautious.
Testing the Waters
A week before my tonsil removal was scheduled, I decided to push my fasting experience further. With all my lab results showing relatively good health, my wife and I agreed a five-day fast wouldn't pose immediate danger. She was understandably apprehensive about me doing this a week before surgery, but we moved forward carefully.
The tonsil removal itself was more challenging than expected. Recovering forced an unintended two-day fast simply because swallowing anything was excruciating. I did my best to consume pureed beans and vegetables for proper nutrients, but my weight drifted toward 180 pounds. It took more than five days before I could even think about resuming a normal diet.
Living in the Real World
But here's the thing about strict dietary protocols—life happens. In early June, we visited relatives in Michigan. The diet became decidedly Midwestern with two family cookouts. To compensate, I walked at least three miles daily and did a 24-hour fast while traveling home. Even with these indulgences, the scale stayed below 185 pounds.
Then came the real test: my wife's birthday. I took her to enjoy one of her favorite spots in town for "Tomahawk Tuesday"—a meal for two featuring a massive 38-ounce steak, two sides, and dessert. We ordered asparagus and mac and cheese for sides. I ate most of the mac and cheese. I did lava cake and ice cream for dessert, consuming it with genuine relish. We each had only a small portion of the actual steak, but this was definitely a departure from our usual plant-based fare.
The next day? I felt absolutely terrible. Still managed my daily Peloton session, but it was a struggle. My wife and I have become keenly attuned to how I feel day-to-day with FL, and we discussed it at length. I'm fairly certain it was that heavy Standard American Diet (SAD) meal causing the problem, because the following day I felt significantly better.
I share this not to make any grand claims about diet and cancer—I know this is purely anecdotal. But the contrast was striking enough that we both noticed it.
Where We Are Now
One week out from the next PET scan. The VA oncologist I've been seeing ordered it to assess how things are progressing. I'm hoping to remain in the "watch and wait" category, which is common for FL patients whose disease isn't aggressively advancing.
Daily, I continue exercising—cycling remains a constant in my routine. I did a two-day water fast two weeks ago, followed by a 24-hour fast two days ago. The diet stays primarily vegetables and fish. My weight hovers consistently below 185 pounds despite eating plenty of carrots, hummus, and other plant-based foods.
Reflections on the Journey
If you'd told me three years ago that my curiosity about longevity research would prepare me for a cancer diagnosis, I wouldn't have believed you. But here we are. I'm clear-eyed about what I don't know: I have no idea if fasting or dietary changes are actually affecting my FL progression. The upcoming PET scan will provide more data, but even that won't prove causation.
What I do know is this: taking an active role in my health, educating myself from legitimate sources, and working in partnership with my medical team has given me a sense of agency during an otherwise uncertain time. My wife's support has been crucial—her medical expertise helps keep me grounded when I might otherwise chase every promising-sounding intervention.
I'm not suggesting anyone else follow this path. FL is complex, every case is different, and what works (or doesn't work) for me may be completely irrelevant to someone else. I'm simply sharing one person's experimental approach to living with cancer, informed by curiosity, tempered by caution, and supported by love.
The throat-clearing "habit" I lived with for years turned out to be something more. The fascination with metabolism that felt like an intellectual exercise became unexpectedly relevant. The discipline required to maintain dietary changes while still celebrating life's moments—like a birthday dinner with your spouse—remains a daily balance.
As I head into next week's PET scan, I'm grateful for the knowledge I've gained, the partnership I share with my wife, and the medical team supporting me through this. Whatever the results show, I'll keep riding, keep learning, and keep showing up for this life.
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