Delete the Facts: How Zev Eisenberg Rejected NY's Top Oncologists for his Own Cure

Delete The Facts: How Zev Eisenberg Rejected NY's Top Oncologists for his Own Cure
by Liz Birch
Photos by Steve Reganato

Five years of his twenties: Three bouts of cancer. Three surgeries. An army of oncologists. Appointments like a battlefield (an iCal from hell). Years of surprise side effects and incorrect dosing of thyroid replacement drugs. Loss of organs. Loss of time, hair, money. A total loss of faith.

Many know Zev Eisenberg as one-half of the dance music duo and label collective Wolf + Lamb. Few know that Zev had a tumor in his lower back. It’s cancer that spread from a lump he’d found on one of his testicles. This is after he had a tumor removed from his throat, which had grown where his thyroid used to be. That gland was no longer there because it too had been removed, along with 14 lymph nodes, when Zev was first diagnosed with thyroid cancer at age 22. Now he is 28.

Almost two years ago, Memorial Sloan-Kettering told Zev the cancer was back and this time it had advanced to Stage 2. It had spread to the lymphatic system.This is what we’re going to do, they said. First, we’re going to take off your testicle. Then four, five months of chemo. Then surgery. We’ll basically pull apart your entire stomach to get to the tumor, try to take the cancer out, put your stomach back, sew everything up. Then four or five more months of chemo, to make sure it’s gone, then hope for the best.

That’s what they said the last two times -- and Zev believed them. It’s cancer and they’re Memorial Sloan-Kettering -- "MSK." What other choice is there? But, then Zev did make another choice: He said no -- to all of it. He didn’t know if he was right and he still doesn't know for sure. But, He knew that they were wrong.

Over the course of two mind-blowing hours, and for the first time publicly, Zev talks about trusting his gut to make a spectacular leap of faith.

ZE: I’ve actually never ever spoken about my actual illness or the treatment I’m doing or any of it. This isn’t about how to cure your cancer alternatively, but about how little the fucking "experts" know about anything.

LB: So then let's start with that. Tell me about Memorial Sloan-Kettering.

ZE: Well, MSK is the industry leader, “the best cancer-care anywhere.” They’re really high-tech. Wristbands with barcodes, they always double-check their dosing. They’re really on top of their shit. Or, they give you that impression. I started chemo there January, two years ago. And this is where everything fell apart. I went in for the chemo the first day and they have a little lunch box: a Coke, an apple, a vanilla wafer and a roast beef wrap.

LB: Hold up -- I don’t even really know about cancer and that does not compute!

ZE: [Laughing] Yeah, I ate the apple and put the rest aside. And I start to see that, on the surface, this place has created this incredible illusion of competence -- but lurking right below are a lot of problems. I go home and I type in “sugar” and “cancer.” Three million pages, like: “Cancer is anaerobic, the cells feed on glucose,” “If you have cancer, you should be on an extremely stringent sugar-free diet." I had asked my oncologists, five of them, "Is there anything I can do to help me not get it again” and was told there was nothing.

But the week progressed and on Friday, the nurses have Dunkin' Donuts for everyone -- and this is MSK's chemo outpatient facility. So that starts drawing me in. I can’t believe I’ve had cancer for three years and I don’t even understand what it is. I start reading and reading and I can’t stop. You can find this stuff out easily; this is cancer, this is how it spreads, this is what it feeds on, don’t give it that. So I start realizing something was so wrong. I mean, they had stuff in MSK’s own literature like, “If you have a choice between an apple and an apple pie, choose the apple pie because it has more calories and you need that” -- the kind of advice that’s just completely stupid. Like, no. You need an apple when you’re sick. You don’t need a fucking apple pie. It was all starting to chip away at me and the whole thing started to unravel.

So [in my car], on my way to the final appointment before they scheduled the second round [of chemo], I call my dad up and say, “I think I’m gonna fucking stop this whole thing.” His reaction was, “Did you find something else to do?” I said, “Nope, but I will. I’ve got some books.” He said, “I trust you.” So, I called the hospital and said, “Cancel my appointments.” The nurse is like, “What do you mean, ‘Cancel it?’” I said, “Cancel all of it.” I turned my car around, and had this sinking feeling -- well, now you’re on your own.

LB: Wow! You have to tell me more about that moment -- how did you feel?

ZE: It’s just flat, survival mode, I don’t feel anything. All of my mind’s functions are dedicated to figuring out the next move. There’s no room for me getting emotional.

LB: How was Day 1, post-“Cancel all my appointments?” What did you do?

ZE: Day 1 was a trip to Whole Foods to see what they had and making massive orders online of what they didn't. Day 2 and 3 was packages arriving: a big box from Amazon. Pills, boxes of shit. Mixed in were interventions by my friends. All of my friends were against this.

LB: Who supported you then?

ZE: Just my dad. My dad was the only one who had it in him.

LB: So all your friends are showing up, along with the packages of dehydrated barley grass and Angiostop with Chinese letters on it, being like “No! Zev!”

ZE: Right! Exactly. They were like, “We know your hair is falling out and it’s making you feel uncomfortable and you’re nauseous, but you have to go through it,” and, “The cancer’s going to kill you, so you have to kill it!” All the clichés. Everyone is fucking loading it on -- as I suppose I would if I were in their situation.

LB: So what did you say?

ZE: Well, the worst part was that I actually didn’t have a plan, so I couldn’t even retaliate. They’re like, “You have to go back to the hospital.” I just said, “No, I don’t, because they don’t know what they’re talking about.” They said, “Yeah, but who does know what they’re talking about?!?” But it was too late. I had already charted my course, to figure this thing out on my own. And I was still knee deep in the chemo shit, because that hadn’t worn off yet. I don’t know what the fuck was going on. I’m just reading, reading, reading. I find out that not only are there alternative cures for cancer, but there’s hundreds of them, many that have tens of thousands of people on them all over the world with varying degrees of success -- so you need to find which one will work for you. This is when I actually started crying. All of this information was only a book away the whole time, but you don’t think about these things until you’re pushed to the edge. So I started to put together this plan. I decided, well, one of these [alternative] treatments is going to have to fucking work. I wrote down my Top 10 and just started this regimen, this hodge-podge of 10 different alternative therapies.

LB: It’s like a menu and you sort of put it together yourself?

ZE: Yeah, exactly. I went through a lot of different stages. I was taking Chinese pills from this guy. I was following this German doctor whose regimen is very strict: no supplements, period. If you need something, find out what food has it and eat a lot of that. Don’t isolate anything, no vitamins that are grown, it just has to be in its natural form. The thing that I’m on now is mostly vegan, besides the crux of it, which is that you blend a sulphur protein like cottage cheese or strained yogurt with flaxseed oil. Eventually I went to a new oncologist [to get tested.] I couldn’t go back to my old oncologist because he’d called me up when I canceled everything: “So, what is this about you not going to chemo?” I’m like, “Well, I just don’t feel like my body can handle it right now.” He said, “Well, you’re going to die.”

LB: He didn't say that. They can say that to you??

ZE: Yeah, he said it. They can say whatever they want. But I found another oncologist and to get him to give me the test, I had to bullshit him that I was just confused and that I was going to go back and do the chemo, but just wanted to stage where I was at. So, he gives me all the tests and obviously as soon as I got the results, I was like, “See ya.” I’m not fucking coming in anymore.

LB: What were the results? They were that good?

ZE My numbers had started dropping. Of course, he immediately said, “Well, you did have one round of chemo. So that’s what it is.” I said, “Right, it’s not the two months of fucking juice fasting and all this other shit. No, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with that. It was the one round of chemo and apple pie I had two months ago...” (laughing). But the main thing is that after five minutes of talking to him, I could clearly see the boundaries of his knowledge, because now I knew a lot more than he did on anything beyond traditional chemo and surgery. This was my first encounter with incompetence where I was able to feel like, “Okay. Now I know. And now I know that you don’t know.” This is where I finally feel comfortable to say, “You’re fucking incompetent.” He finally had the dignity to back down and say, “You know what, I don’t know about this stuff.” And my next thought was, “How the fuck do you not know this stuff? You’re a fucking oncologist! Simple things about how to eat better and lower your chances for recurrence. How did you not read every single book that I’ve just read? How do you not have a marked up copy of this, this, and that? Are you fucking crazy? People are coming to you with their balls in their hand. How the fuck do you not know this shit?” And that was my last oncological visit - about a year and a half ago.

And now I’ve ended up doing this thing called “The Budwig Protocol,” named after the brilliant Johanna Budwig who invented it. I found out there are well over 8,000 people from all over the world actively on this treatment, for any kind of cancer you can imagine, plus diabetes and heart disease. It’s so effective at healing your body that it works with many degenerative diseases. There are people with glaucoma, degenerative eye problems, arthritis, doesn’t matter. It’s this one woman’s work -- she’s dead now, so it’s just this cult following. Like group wisdom, because nobody really knows. Everyone is just trying it out and hoping for the best.

LB: But that’s the same thing that the medical world represents, group thinking.

ZE: Exactly. It’s the same thing, except this diet took me from feeling like absolute shit to starting to get up in two weeks. My health just improved and improved. I think I’m in a better place than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m healthier, I have more energy. Those are my side effects now. And my numbers kept going down and down. Technically, from Western medical standards, I’ve been in remission for a year. Not only is this working for now, but it’s worked quicker. I had an MRI four months ago to see what was going on in my back, because of the tumor there. It was half the size and filled with fluid. I went to see a sympathetic doctor whom I use to get prescriptions for blood tests who’s always fighting with me to go back to the chemo, showed him a copy of the MRI and asked, “What’s wrong with you? I keep coming in here, I’m getting healthier and healthier. What more do you need to see?” He said, “Even if it went away, I would still tell you to go get chemo, that's how I was taught.” So it’s what they went to school to learn. And it’s what keeps the whole cancer industry going and going.

LB: So what’s the biggest cautionary tale from the path you took?

ZE: That every single thing about cancer in this country is upside down. In Western medicine, there’s a lot of conflicting information, so in a way, going to a doctor to be treated is rolling the dice  --  it all depends on what that doctor read that day. Sadly, that’s reality; so you have to go in a combination of your own instinct, your intelligence, and a little bit of chance because maybe what you’re doing is not going to be the right choice. But at least you're the one rolling the dice. The only hope is that the more natural you go, the less contradiction there is. You cannot outsmart your body. Stop it already. Stop with these grandiose tricks. You just have to go back to natural, natural, natural.

LB: When will you get your next tests?

ZE: Another month or two, but I’m not too worried about it. This shit is so unpredictable, it could just come back without warning -- but at least my quality of life is phenomenal. I have an exciting life again, I'm not pricked for liters of blood, having nausea for breakfast and having to be at the mercy of incompetent doctors, I feel like I'm in control. All I can do is stay as true as possible to this thing I’m doing, every day. Get comfortable. Then do it again.