Fluid rapidly returns into my lungs

My Holistic Dr. Cancer Specialist offered help

Two additional liters of fluid had to be removed from my left lung just four weeks after an initial two liters were siphoned.

I could feel the repulsive bloody liquid rapidly returning into my lung only two weeks after the first two liters were drained on June 28.

Dr. Patel said we should schedule a time to perform the fluid removal procedure again. We made an outpatient appointment for Friday, July 26.

Pleural effusion, the muck of doom, and its shortness of breath are debilitating, filthy afflictions resulting from the stage four prostate cancer that’s trying to suck the life out of my lungs and me.

The nighttime hacking spells discharged urine deep into my depends fit and flex. I was too weak to walk Piper around the block. Then, I wasn’t even able to put out the trash. A shower stool was needed. When washing my feet or reaching to lather my head, the fluid constricted the lung, and air intake was severely limited—the same each time I lie in bed. Very not fun.

My wife Betsy and daughters Heather and Hannah, along with writing six hours daily in my small but excellent office in our house with abundant natural light and the vibrant but not too busy College Street vibe, provided purpose and the ability to persevere. I never take for granted our comfortable home with electricity, air conditioning, plentiful reverse osmosis water, a shower, fridge, my man chair, a 70” TV, a laptop, a desktop, an iPhone 12, and our comfortable bed. Oh, and our neighbors voted our front porch the ‘best porch in the neighborhood.’ Seriously, to have that stuff is a blessing. I've got it pretty good.

One week before the second procedure, pleural effusion was still forcing its foul, slimy solution back into my lung and made living intolerable again. I contacted Kevan Q. Huynh, a naturopathic doctor and a licensed acupuncturist at Bay Area Naturopathic in San Jose, CA. Dr. Kevan has been an essential member of my cancer medical team since June 2020.

Dr. Kevan concocted a custom potent potion of Chinese Herbs that he said would keep the fluid away for several months. I mixed three small scoops into two ounces of water and, in one gulp, downed the high-octane gasoline-tasting beverage.

I noticed improvement the next day. My breathing and quality of life soon improved substantially, leading to fluid removal round two.

I have my life back and feel euphoric while shortness of breath has morphed back to hell!

After two liters of fluid were removed again, I felt great. Breathing twenty thousand or more breaths daily without struggle is remarkable.

I’m thrilled to be able to walk a mile every other day with Piper and do other simple chores that provide movement.

I still wake each morning wondering when and if the muck would return. So far, my ability to breathe unimpeded has continued, and I am ecstatic.

Do you believe in miracles?

Ten days after the second fluid procedure (August 6), an X-ray revealed that the left lung was clear! Those herbs are doing a phenomenal job at keeping the liquid from returning. For now, I retired the shower seat into the rarely used hallway closet. It would be nice if we didn’t have to open that door for a very long time.

I was able to speak at the Elk Grove Writers Guild monthly meeting. That gig was just what the doctors didn’t order. Being out of the house, networking with other writers, chatting with neat folks, and performing with Betsy and Hannah in the audience were therapeutic therapy times infinity.

I picked a random audience member, Kathy Marshall, and enjoyed showing the group how to shoot a short improv promotional video with my iPhone 12. (see below)

After a grand time in Elk Grove, we surprised Hannah with an early dinner at her all-time favorite sushi joint, Mikuni’s. We spent most of the day together and then in the evening in our beloved living room with Piper, watching Olympic gymnastics, Hannah’s passion since she was three.

That’s as good as a day gets.

When the herbs aren’t able to continue saving my life, there’s an option to have a catheter surgically placed into my left lung, and the tube will come out through my lower left chest. At that point, we can siphon the fluid ourselves at home. Until then, I’ll be living life as usual. I’ve got a book to finish.

And in the end

Hey Gang!

I wish to raise funds to finish editing my (memoir) book, Touched by Hannah. I’ve been working with retired author Cecil Murphey (a top five prolific Christian Writer of the 21st century who sold 25 million books). I also hope to attend two upcoming writer’s conferences.

• I’ve worked with Cec for eighteen months and have approximately six months to go ($1000).

  

• I must secure an agent who believes in me and my book.

• Find a reputable publisher.

• I’d greatly benefit from attending two upcoming writer’s conferences. Conferences are the best place to meet and network with reputable agents and publishers.

• — The upcoming San Francisco Writers Conference is in February 2025 ($2000).

• — The Mendocino Coast Writers’ Conference 2025 Conference from July 31 - August 2, 2025 in Mendocino, California ($2000).

Every donation, no matter how small, brings me closer to sharing this epic journey. I’ve worked hard, never rushed, and have joyfully written for hundreds of hours in the past eight years. Please click the link above to donate and share if you can. Even if you don’t donate, check out the Touched by Hannah GoFundMe to learn more about my extraordinary, true story.

Excerpt from Touched by Hannah from the end of Chapter One

I entered the NICU for the first time. Hannah’s incubator was the second on the right. I noticed tubes and wires everywhere, including in her mouth and nose. There were bandages and splints on her legs and arms, and a CPAP mask covered her face.

Dr. Powers approached. “Mr. Hennessy, Hannah is fighting for her life.” Nothing has ever hit me as hard as hearing that one horrible sentence. Those words ripped through my shirt, slit my chest open, and seized what was left of my heart. 

“We were able to take her off the ventilator. She’s got a good pair of lungs. That’s her first mountain conquered. There’s still an entire range to scale. Next, we need to get her digestive system moving.”

I looked at one-pound-nine-ounces Hannah. Could that tiny body even have a digestive system?

He offered the most vital advice we received throughout our ordeal. “As great as technology is, what is best for Hannah right now is mommy and daddy’s touch, voice, and scent.”

I completely understood.

The only physical contact with Hannah was sticking an arm through a small hole into the incubator. When my huge pointer finger brushed Hannah’s micro-tiny hand, she grabbed it and held on, and we stayed connected for up to several hours at a time.

I sang ad-lib songs and prayers while bonding with my baby three months before we were supposed to. When she wrapped her tiny fingers around mine, they felt soft as snowflakes falling unhurriedly from a silent stormy sky, landing gently on my finger.

I thought up a song that became my anthem to Hannah. I’d croon repeatedly, “Hann’s a soft-touch baby, like outbreaks of snowflakes floating onto Hannah and me. My heart has defrosted. I’m here for you, always, my soft-touch baby.”

Hannah became my soft-touch-baby, and when I was with her, I was truly in the moment.

Both of us would face a long, daunting road ahead. The odds were that one or both of us wouldn’t make it. Tomorrow would be a frightening thought. However, when living in the moment, there wasn’t a tomorrow. And when tomorrow doesn’t exist, there’s no stressing about it. I felt honored, blessed, and cherished every second I sat there, Touched by Hannah.