If you’ve been following my healing journey, you know that the past few years have been spent exploring every possible avenue to support my body—trying to feel even a fraction of how I felt before cancer and before chemo.

During my first diagnosis, I followed the standard protocol exactly as prescribed: chemotherapy, radiation, a double mastectomy, Verzenio, Lupron, Letrozole—everything. It was hell for me and my family, but somehow, we made it through.

I did my best to heal, mentally and physically, from the treatment that was supposed to save my life. But the toll that systemic therapy took on me was overwhelming. Eventually, I had to step away from the 5–10 year preventative medication plan. My body, mind, and spirit were exhausted.

Six months after stopping Lupron, Letrozole, and Verzenio, I was hit with my second diagnosis. Just as I had started to feel alive again, my Signatera test came back positive—circulating tumor DNA had increased. This time, the diagnosis was considered fatal: Stage 4. The cancer had spread to my spine and pelvic bones. That meant my cancer had become resistant to treatment and had learned how to circulate through my bloodstream, planting little seeds throughout my body that were just waiting to grow.

They told me that even with treatment, I likely had 2–5 years.

At that point, I decided to take my treatment into my own hands. I had done everything they asked of me, but the promises felt empty and the outcomes didn’t match the hope they’d given. I told my oncologist that instead of continuing Lupron—a drug that caused intense psychological side effects—I wanted to have surgery to remove my ovaries and eliminate the estrogen fueling my cancer.

I also met with my radiologist—who is truly incredible—and together we felt confident moving forward with radiating the two tumors in my spine and pelvis. But as far as further systemic treatment, I knew deep down I couldn’t do it again. I told my husband that I would take my chances—and if the worst happened, I’d simply become a “really awesome guardian angel” for our family.

And then something miraculous happened. I learned about the protocol I’m sharing below. The way it came into my life felt nothing short of divine—through synchronicities, unlikely encounters, and moments that made me feel guided. Those details deserve their own post. This is when I began experimenting with what I now call the “Ivy League Protocol.”

I call it that because if I mention its actual components—like ivermectin or fenbendazole—my content tends to get blocked on my social platforms. This protocol came together through extensive reading, research, and conversations with other cancer patients who had beaten odds and received “miraculous” cancer-free scans when they weren’t expected to. I don’t feel like a leader or an expert—just a mom sharing her story, someone who faced doctors who eventually had no more answers for me.

After being on this protocol for four months, I went in for a PET scan. My radiologist walked into the room looking almost shocked. She told me, “Carli, I was so nervous to read your scan this morning because I knew you had declined the systemic therapy… but it’s perfect. No cancer.”

They had fully expected to see progression, especially since I wasn’t on the preventative medications they recommended—Kisqali and Anastrozole. Instead, nothing new had grown.

I kept going with the Ivy League Protocol—and recently, I received another perfect PET scan. My radiologist couldn’t believe it. Next, I’ll be tracking everything through Signatera again to keep an eye on circulating tumor DNA and follow any changes closely.

I trust that God and the angels who led me to this protocol will guide the people who are meant to find it. I know the ones who need it will be drawn to it. For me, it’s simply a part of my story—something I felt called to try while walking through one of the hardest seasons of my life.