Advanced warning: there are some expletives and rage with regard to Western medicine and how a young man was treated unsuccessfully. 

 

The opportunity arose to get out of town for the 4th of July weekend, so I took it. Found a lovely B&B with a room that a famous couple had stayed in not long ago. Their names? None other than Bill and Hillary. Wow. Talk about some positive energy.

So, everything is clicking with the trip. My clients are notified that I’ll be traveling so my response time will be a little slower. I tell them I’m taking my laptop with me and plan to work for a few hours each morning if they need me. I love my clients and am so thankful for everything they have given me.

A scheduled meeting the day of departure goes very well. I’m happy and in a good place for the trip but ready for a change of scenery. I walk the dog, put out fresh water and food for the cats. My husband will be home in a couple of hours to take over the animal care but I want to make sure they are ok. They are my best friends and I want them to know I care about them. A few more items are placed in the car – a couple of chairs for watching fireworks and a big bottle of water to stay hydrated.

On the road I find the traffic is moving along nicely. The cruise is set a little faster than the speed limit, a little slower than most of the other traffic but faster than the semi trucks. Perfect. About 30 miles out of town my mind shifts and things start popping up. Stuff I haven’t thought about in quite some time. Wow. How did I forget this stuff?

How could I forget the catalyst that changed my life a year ago? Ok, so maybe I didn’t completely forget but for some reason the intensity of the event was forgotten for a while. Little things over the past week started to remind me. And then it hit me full force.

If my husband had been in the car with me, he would have had me pull over so he could drive. But instead, I pushed “record” on my phone and started talking. And crying. And talking. . . on and on and on. Let me tell you, it made the trip go by quickly. I did pull over at a rest area just over the state border for a while.

What happened a little over a year ago? A friend of my son’s was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. A young man, married with a young son. A wonderful soul. A good friend of my son who basically saved my son’s life by helping him to get a job. Patrick.

The news was preceded by a dream I had of my son losing a lot of weight. In the dream, I asked him, “how did you lose so much weight?” He replied with a laugh, “oh, stuffed green peppers.” Funny. Ha. He’s always coming up with funny stuff like that. But it really stayed with me how thin he was. Well, a few days later, my son comes home from work and announces that his friend, Patrick, has been diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. He worked with Patrick at that time so saw him every day and had been speaking with him. Patrick had been in intense pain and had lost a lot of weight over a short amount of time.

Needless to say, we were all concerned for Patrick and his family. The news did not sound positive, although Patrick was a young man and strong. But I had a not-so-good feeling about this.

My son is a very loving and compassionate person. He gives us updates often. Patrick’s wife starts a Caring Bridge site. This is where I end up getting most of my news after Patrick leaves work to start treatments. I’m on the site often, hoping to find a way to help him and his family somehow.

Gotta help somehow. . . especially after I read about the type of treatment he enduring. The powerful chemotherapy. The poison pumped into his body in hopes of having a negative impact on his cancer. But, having had chemotherapy myself, I know what it does to your entire body. Poison being pumped into your body has a systemic effect.

Patrick’s sister-in-law tells me that what they really need is food. Meals prepared for them. She sets the meals up on a site called Meal Train. Wonderful. I sign up for weekly meals. I can do this. I can’t heal Patrick but I can provide food.

And then the news gets worse and worse. I see Patrick on occasion at his home. He is weak. I meet his wife and young son. Adorable little boy who toddles around. They struggle. But they are strong. They are young and in survival mode. Honorable and strong survival mode.

Things get worse. The combination of chemotherapy and the type of cancer causes Patrick to retain a lot of fluid. The fluid in his lungs makes it hard for him to breathe. It’s painful. He is taken to the hospital where they drain liters of fluid from his body. To me this speaks to the volume of poison in his system and his body’s inability to get rid of it. And to me, it is torture.

We all pray. We all hope for the best. A trip to Disney World is planned. But first a trip to Mayo Clinic. Where they tell Patrick they can do nothing more for him that what is already being done locally. Oh dear. Sadness. Hopelessness.

A fundraiser is organized by friends at work. Music. A silent auction. Donations matched by the employer. I go to the fundraiser. His friends are all there trying to put on a happy face for Patrick. Patrick is there tolerating it all. I stay only for a short while, sensing that a part of Patrick has already moved on. His soul has been called for by the universe. I sense it won’t be much longer.

And then a random evil thing happens. Someone steals the cards filled with money from the fundraiser. What? What the hell is WRONG with people? Why would someone do that? aaaaaaargh!!! But to me that is minor (or maybe it’s symbolic) compared to how the family is being tortured by the medical community. Both with poison and by charging them unbelievable amounts of money.

A short while later (days? weeks?). It’s announced on Caring Bridge that they have decided to keep Patrick at home with palliative care/hospice care. He is surrounded by family and friends. He passes over soon after that. I think it was only a day or two.

Patrick’s body gave up. It could not take the poison any longer.

This is so incredibly, incredibly sad to me. A wonderful young man, good friend, gentle being, loving father, husband, brother and son had to go through such torture. THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY POISONED HIM TO DEATH AND CHARGED HIM THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS. I know what many of you think . . . the cancer killed him. NO IT DID NOT. The chemotherapy is what killed him.

Perhaps I could let it go. But I am not. I refuse to let it go. I am on a mission. Because there has to be a different and more gentle way to help people than to torture them when they have malignant cancer.

There MUST be a different way to help.

No, I’m not going to sit back and do nothing, because that would be cruel.

I believe that if someone wants to heal and has hope that they can beat a diagnosis then they should be able to be armed with the power to do so.

They should be able to harness the power of the universe to take it on with all their might. A balance of “modern” medicine and other types of medicine that have been around since the beginning of time. All without being charged thousands and thousands of dollars for it.

I am angry that a part of the world thinks it is acceptable to torture and kill individuals in the name of medicine. And to charge them for it. To kill them and then put their family in deep debt that continues the torture. WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THAT?

I’ve said enough, haven’t I? I am determined to help people in a gentle, loving, affordable and compassionate way. To teach others that they can help. To teach people to help themselves. A better balance between western medicine and energy medicine. Think of it as wonderful, affordable and effective combination of everything we know.

This is for Patrick and his family and friends. Your love and courage is powerful.

(On a major side note, I have a deep respect for some parts and practitioners of Western medicine. It has saved and helped so many people. For that I am thankful. Above is simply a post about the catalyst that helped me to change my life. To help people in a loving, gentle and compassionate way. It’s my path for now.)

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Update for 2023. I was treated with surgery, radiation and chemotherapy approximately 20 years ago for stage 4 cervical cancer. I have had no evidence of the original disease since that fateful year. But what I do have now is a painful long-term effect of the chemotherapy. I had cisplatin by IV and was told it may have an effect on my nervous system. I did notice the tingling immediately but it seemed to have subsided until 2021 when it came roaring back on my right side. I have numbness, tingling and excruciating pain on my right side from my hip to my toes. I manage it the best I can at night when the pain is the worst. Imagine trying to get to sleep but you have shooting intense pain plus muscle spasms for hours. It’s usually better if I manage how much physical activity I do during the day. I love walking, yoga, qigong, traveling, shopping, running errands, etc. but with this new physical situation I have to reduce everything by approximately 90 percent. If I don’t then I am miserable for days.

There is not much that can be done but why shouldn’t the medical organization that treated me be held responsible for helping me manage my life? Why can’t they help? Why poison me and then send me off with absolutely nothing other than a very large invoice?