Although I did not know it at the time, a routine appointment with my urologist, six years ago, was to change the direction of my life. It began with three words that to this day I can remember quite distinctly: “You have cancer.”

I was totally unprepared for this ominous pronouncement. A month earlier I had learned that my PSA was 7.5 and somewhat reluctantly submitted to a biopsy. True, the PSA was a few points higher than the safe zone of zero to 4.0, but a biopsy the previous year had turned out negative. Therefore, I had walked in the doctor’s office somewhat jauntily, fully expecting a similar report.

My physician was Dr. Y., an Egyptian, and like many foreigners for whom English is learned in maturity, he spoke somewhat haltingly, dissecting each of his words with a kind of military precision.

“Not only that, Mr. Johnson, but your Gleason scale is quite high. Something in the neighborhood of 8.5 or 9.”

“What does that mean?" I asked, with surprising calmness. I can only attribute this state of mind to the fact that I had not fully comprehended what I had just been told.

“The Gleason scale is the means by which the distribution of the cancer cells are measured. The higher the number, the more compact the distribution.”

“And..?” I asked.

Which means that the cancer cells are growing at a greater rate. If the scale reaches 10, it usually indicates the cancer has broken through the capsule enclosing the prostate and is spreading or will soon spread to the surrounding lymph glands and into the blood stream. It is usually too late to do anything at that stage.”

I was in a state of shock. I had entered the office fully expecting a negative report only to be informed that I had a life-threatening form of cancer.

“What do you recommend?” I asked uneasily.

“Well, if the Gleason score had been below five we could adopt a wait and watch approach. But since yours is so high, surgery is the only option. And quite frankly, I would recommend that you have the surgery quite soon.”

I inwardly winced. I had always been instinctively opposed to invasive medicine, though at the time I was not quite sure why I felt that way. Later, my instincts were to be confirmed by my own research and a number of informed friends I was to meet on my way to a greater understanding about my condition and eventual recovery.

“What does the surgery involve?” I asked.

He then explained to me that the prostate gland, about the size of a walnut, would be removed as well as one of the sphincters that control the flow of urine. Removal, I learned, involved major surgery and was called a “radical prostatectomy.” An incision is made into the abdomen from the pubic area to the navel. The first step is for the surgeon to remove tissue from the surrounding lymph nodes to make a quick biopsy to see if the cancer had burst from the prostate capsule and spread to the nodes. If they are cancer-free, then the operation proceeds. If not, the cancer has spread massively to the lymph nodes and the surgeon will stop the operation because surgery won’t help this situation. However, if the lymph nodes are cancer-free, then the operation proceeds.

Next, the major vein system overlying the prostate and urethra is cut. Blood loss must be kept to a minimum to permit the surgeon to see what’s happening. If the urethra is cut too close to the prostate some cancer may be left behind; if too far away, the sphincter (that controls urine flow) may be damaged—making the patient incontinent.

This was the unhappy information that my research revealed. Concerned that my life was seriously threatened, I returned to my urologist and told him I was prepared to undergo surgery at the earliest possible opportunity. He agreed and scheduled it for the month following. In the meantime, I was to alternately constrict and relax my rectal muscles several hundred times each day to prepare myself for the loss of a sphincter, an unavoidable result of the surgery. Once the prostate is removed, the urethra must be tied directly to the bladder with the remaining sphincter. If that fails, I was informed, “an artificial sphincter” can be implanted. Not a pleasant prospect.

Two weeks before the date of the surgery, a meeting took place that was to rescue me from the surgery I was increasingly reluctant to undergo. I was discussing my impending operation with Howard, a friend of long standing. Aware of my reluctance, he told me of someone he had recently met who had prostate cancer and was using an “alternative procedure.” He suggested I call him.

When I met the fellow at the door of his modest apartment, I could not help noticing that he was wearing a black strap around his left wrist to which were attached two wires leading to a small cigarette-sized box tucked into his shirt pocket. Was this the alternative procedure? Yes, he informed, it was indeed.

Within a short time, he introduced me into the world of Bob Beck and the wonder of electrical healing. He told me of his own fear of cancer but assured me that blood electrification had saved his life. I learned that small amounts of electricity, introduced into the radial and ulner arteries at the wrist through small copper probes, can kill harmful pathogens. These are the microscopic killers that cause cancer, lupus, and a host of other diseases that live and develop in out bloodstream. After listening to his enthusiastic support of the procedure, I became a convert.

He recommended I contact a local distributor for the products. A few days later, and after some preliminary instruction, the wrist pulsing unit was strapped to my wrist, where it remained from two to four hours a day for the following six months. (In addition, I applied a magnetic pulsing unit directly to the area of the prostate as well as to my other internal organs once or twice a day.) It should be mentioned that prior to using the blood electrifier, I underwent a blood exam using contrast phase microscopy, a procedure that permits you to view your blood cells on a monitor screen. My test revealed red blood cells that were clumped together and characterized by unhealthy, jagged edges. The white cells were lazy blobs of inactivity.

Six weeks after using the wrist pulsing unit I was retested. Lo and Behold! My red cells had returned to a healthy roundness and the white cells were showing marked activity. In addition, my urination was returning to normal.

Formerly, I had been forced out of bed as many as four times a night: now once was usually enough. Later, I was able to sleep the entire night without interruption. I was concerned that my PSA did not move lower: in fact, it had even inched up a few points. Then I was informed that antioxidents can often cause the PSA to rise. And since I was beginning to feel better, sleep better and urinate less I refused to let it worry me. Also a later digital rectal exam (DRE) revealed that a tumor, which had earlier formed on the prostate, had disappeared!

It has now been nearly five years since my diagnosis for an advance form of prostate cancer. Annual exams with contrast phase microscopy have informed me that my blood is still healthy. I feel fit, and any fear of dying from prostate cancer is completely erased from my mind.

I thank the genius of Bob Beck and his wonderful instruments for granting me that assurance.