15MAR22 UPDATE: A development has arisen which has prompted me to return to this post for required edits. It has been brought to my attention that the sale of healthy human parts is big business not only in the US, but around the world. The controversial practice is shrouded in secrecy and financed by the ultra wealthy who pay millions for healthy kidneys, hearts, lungs, and an assortment of other vital internal organs. Which brings it back to me. My prostate surgery is in less than 48 hours. I still feel fine. And I understand that certain members of my medical team may have stumbled upon the post below, which I wrote on 17 February. The fact that people in the medical community know that I’m on to them makes me nervous that on top of the revenue generated from the surgery itself, a fatal scenario during surgery might be in order. To keep the lid on the truth, but also to harvest my extremely healthy (and extremely valuable) internal organs for the “gold” market. It’s sad, but things happen all the time during surgery. Sudden cardiac arrest, for example. All I am saying is that if come Thursday afternoon you hear news of my passing, remember what I’m telling you here. After all, during their vetting of me as a healthy man who should recover fine from major surgery (providing major $$), surely they also know that I’m an organ donor.

17FEB22 –

As you may know, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in December. There’s no family history, and there are no physical signs of the disease. The news blindsided us. Until that moment we were planning our 25th wedding anniversary trip.

But here’s the thing – I feel fine. I have no symptoms of any kind. I continue to exercise. My sleep patterns are normal. I eat well. Yes, I’m grateful that I am not sick, but this has me thinking – what if this is all bullshit? 

What if this is part of a national conspiracy? Maybe big medicine and big insurance are working together to qualify guys like me—healthy men in their mid-50s who should recover fine from major surgery to remove a gland I no longer need. A body part that is so often the cause of cancer in men that when men are diagnosed, they don’t even question it. 

Here in America, healthcare/insurance, medicine, and pharmaceuticals are big business. Trillions (yes, you read that right) of dollars are generated on the fallibility of human beings. I can’t stress how important this is. We little people pay thousands each year for health insurance and, on top of our monthly fees just to have insurance, we have copays and deductibles that all work in the favor of the insurance company whose CEO makes more money than God. No, for most of us, being diagnosed with a major health issue is the only way to even justify having insurance. 

How can you “trust the science” when the science is driven by sales?

In fact, there’s so much money changing hands in this sector (4.1 trillion in 2020) that I have my doubts about whether most doctors even become doctors to help people. Sure, we all like to think that all doctors are these benevolent souls who dedicate their lives to helping people, and so they are paid well for it. But because there’s so much money at stake, surely even doctors can be persuaded to prioritize revenue over care. How else do you explain $500 office visits for 10 minutes of their time? 

No, I’m calling bullshit. On cancer. On doctors. On hospitals. And especially on insurance companies. 

The day the doctor broke the cancer news to me over the phone, he said he had to inform 11 other men that week of same fate. 

Assuming this surgery is tens of thousands of dollars (or more), that’s a pretty good week for a company. All I could think when he told me this was that somewhere in the business department at the hospital, an accountant was thinking about the new swimming pool he’ll get with the bonus.

Yes, I’m convinced that my test results were rigged and this is all bullshit. Even the radiology oncologist was in on it by not replying to my message before the surgeon had another chance to talk to me and convince me that surgery was the way to go on this. (It was probably his turn for the work.)

Good thing I’ve figured all this out before the surgery. Hell, at this point I’m not even convinced my “doctor” is a doctor! What, I’m just supposed to believe a diploma on the wall? No, they’re not splaying me open on the operating table. I’ll take my chances with this “fake” cancer. 

And don’t get me going on how big pharma can’t “find a cure” for cancer. We’ve been throwing money at a “finding a cure” for decades and they still can’t break through? Maybe that’s because there’s no incentive in curing people when the revenue from keeping us sick is so consistent.

How does it feel to be found out, American Healthcare? You won’t make a fool out of me. I watched a YouTube video about this stuff. 


The Urgency of an Artist
My Only Fear About Having Cancer

Jim Mitchem

Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. @jmitchem on twitter. First novel, Minor King, out now.