Dr. Anthony Sattilaro was definitely one of the most unforgettable people I've ever had the good luck to meet. When I interviewed him in February 1981 as a reporter for the Philadelphia Journal, he was 48 and serving as chief executive officer of Methodist Hospital in South Philadelphia - the very hospital where I was born.

His story was remarkable. In June 1978, X-rays had revealed cancerous growths throughout his body - in his skull, right shoulder, prostate, backbone, sternum and genitals. Three operations, oral drugs and large doses of estrogen failed to stop the cancer's spread. Doctors gave him about one year to live.

Two months after this devastating diagnosis, tragedy struck again when Sattilaro's father suddenly died. But it was after burying his dad in Highland Park, New Jersey, that a chance encounter would change everything.

Driving back to Philadelphia on the New Jersey Turnpike that August day, the deeply depressed physician did something completely out of character - he picked up two young hitchhikers, Sean McLean and Bill Bochbracher, who were headed to North Carolina.

"It was a spur of the moment decision," he told me during one of our interviews. "I guess I just needed somebody to talk to."

When Sattilaro shared his recent losses - his father's death and his own terminal diagnosis - McLean made a statement that Sattilaro would later tell me saved his life: "You do not have to die. Cancer is not all that hard to cure. You can do it."

"I looked at him," Sattilaro recalled, "and thought he was just a silly kid. Here I was, a doctor for 25 years and the director of a Philadelphia hospital with lots of cancer specialists who had done everything they could possibly do for me, and nothing could arrest the spread of my cancer."

McLean urged him to visit the Philadelphia East-West Foundation, then located on South Street, to learn about macrobiotic cooking. He later sent Sattilaro a book, "A Macrobiotic Approach to Cancer," filled with testimonials from cancer patients who claimed their tumors disappeared after adopting the diet.

I learned that this wasn't some simple dietary adjustment. The macrobiotic regimen consists of approximately 50% cooked whole grains - brown rice, wheat, barley and millet - plus 25% locally grown vegetables, 15% beans and sea vegetables. The remainder includes fish, soup, condiments, fruit, seeds and nuts. Meat is strictly forbidden.

Sattilaro thought it sounded absurd at first but reasoned, "What do I have to lose? I only have one year to live." He consulted Denny Waxman, a Northeast Philadelphia native who directed the East-West Foundation. When I spoke with Waxman, he told me he had recommended Sattilaro take their cooking classes and instruction in the macrobiotic lifestyle.

To ensure complete adherence to the diet, Sattilaro began eating at Waxman's house. The results were stunning - within two weeks, his excruciating pain vanished completely. He stopped taking morphine, cocaine and Compazine pain medications.

During our interviews, Sattilaro twice invited me to his Methodist Hospital office, where he prepared some of his favorite dishes for me - miso soup and tofu with vegetables. I found them incredibly bland, but Sattilaro was passionate about their healing properties.

By September 1979, just 15 months after starting the macrobiotic diet and four months after stopping estrogen shots against his oncologist's advice, scans showed Sattilaro's body completely free of cancer.

But he was careful about his claims. "Whenever you write about this," he insisted to me, "you have to mention two things: first, I would never, never advise any cancer patient not to follow traditional medical treatment for cancer, chemotherapy and radiation. My macrobiotic diet was a last resort after chemo and radiation failed to work."

"Secondly," he continued, "I would never, never, never claim that a macrobiotic diet is a 'cure' for cancer. There is absolutely no evidence for that claim, which some people do make. You would need a massive, double-blind, controlled study for years to assert such a claim."

His story gained national attention through two books: "Recalled to Life" (1982) and "Living Well Naturally" (1984). He appeared on various talk shows, including "The Oprah Winfrey Show," though some medical experts dismissed his experience as "quackery."

"As with most physicians," he wrote, "my medical training did not include the study of nutrition... Unfortunately, our diets have changed radically within the last 50 years, with great and often harmful effects on our health. In all, six of the 10 leading causes of death in the U.S. have been linked to our diet."

The story doesn't have a fairy-tale ending. After several cancer-free years, Sattilaro gradually abandoned the strict diet, returning to typical American eating habits. His cancer returned in the late 1980s, and he died in 1989 at age 56 - still outliving his original prognosis by a decade. Reports varied on whether pneumonia or prostate cancer ultimately caused his death.

Looking back on my encounters with Dr. Sattilaro, I'm struck by how his story raises profound questions about the relationship between diet and disease, even as it demonstrates the immense challenge of maintaining such a restrictive dietary regimen long-term. His journey, which I had the privilege to document, continues to provoke discussion about alternative approaches to cancer treatment and the role of nutrition in healing.