The Book

Now Accepting Preorders

Surviving Colorectal Cancer

Practical Guidance for Patients and Families

By Aaron M. • 55,000+ words • Part memoir, part survival guide, part evidence file

About the Book

The Roadmap I Wish Someone Had Handed Me


This isn’t medical advice. It’s one patient’s experience — the path I walked, the studies I dug through, the things I tried, and the results I lived. My goal is to make my process transparent, because I wish someone had handed me this roadmap when I was standing where you are now.

The book is organized so you can find what you need fast. If you only care about supplements, flip straight to that section. If off-label medications interest you, they’re neatly grouped together. Each piece of the puzzle is in its own box.

Inside the Book

What’s Inside


Part One: The Story

From diagnosis through treatment, surgery, loss, resilience, and a groundbreaking clinical trial at NIH. The raw truth about fighting stage 4 cancer — the fear, the system, the moments that nearly broke me, and the ones that carried me through.

Part Two: The Arsenal

Every supplement, repurposed medication, and lifestyle change I used — ranked 1–10, with research citations, dosages, brand recommendations, and honest assessments of what worked and what didn’t.

Preview

Chapter List


Part One: The Story

Prologue
1. The Moment Everything Changes
2. Before the Storm
3. The Weight of Knowledge
4. Chemo’s Double Edge
5. Nature as Medicine
6. Nurses, Not Doctors
7. Surgery
8. The NIH Trial
9. IL-2: Four Doses
10. Where I Stand Now
Epilogue

Part Two: The Arsenal

18. The Ranking System
19. Foundation: Food, Water & Environment
20. Supplements
21. Other Therapies & Repurposed Medications
22. Other Therapies
23. Life After Cancer
24. Insurance & Financial Navigation
25. For the Caregiver
Quick-Reference Tables
Trial-Search Checklist
Questions-to-Ask Scripts
Red Flags & Avoidable Delays

An Excerpt

From the Prologue


The nurse was steady. Calm, professional, warm in the way that people who do hard work every day learn to be. She checked my vitals, adjusted my IV line, made small talk while I tried not to think too hard about what was coming next. She’d done this a thousand times before—prepare someone for the trial that could save their life.

We chatted. I told her how thankful I was to be here. How I almost wasn’t. She nodded the way someone nods when they already know.

And sitting there, watching her go through the quiet choreography of preparation, it hit me—really hit me—how close I’d come to missing this entirely. The delays. The weeks of watching my scans worsen while the funding dried up, the staffing thinned out, and the timeline stretched in ways no one could control. My tumors had nearly doubled waiting for cells that were already mine, already engineered, already meant for me.

Lucky. That’s the word that kept surfacing. People used it gently, carefully, the way you handle something fragile.

But I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like I’d been fighting for my life on two fronts: cancer, and a system buckling under decisions made by people who would never sit in this chair, never feel the IV slide in, never wonder if the cure would arrive before the disease finished what it started.

I was here. That was the thing. I was here, and I knew others wouldn’t be.

The full story continues in the book…

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The book is in final revisions. Reserve your copy now and be the first to receive it when it launches.

While You Wait for the Book

I’m sharing pieces of what I learned on the blog — from what FOLFOX actually feels like to the off-label meds I took alongside chemo.

Read the blog →