Life doesn't deliver blows much lower than this. Diagnosis: bone marrow cancer. Prognosis, weeks to live without treatment, a few years, at best, with aggressive chemo.
Eight years ago, Michael Gearin-Tosh got the bad news, but he chose not to place himself pliantly in doctors' hands. Many he saw as bullies and bellowers, evading the truth, giving conflicting advice.
He turned instead to unorthodox guides, Chekhov and Havel, Queen Elizabeth the first, and devised his own treatment, a rigorous regimen, breath control, diet and detox, enemas, needles and pills.
He thus chose his course, his fate in his hands. He's not claiming a medical miracle, but it's a powerful morality tale.
