Cancer is a funny thing. I don’t know that it’s really even a “thing” at all. It’s almost intangible. Like an elusive teacher and often a key to the unknown, I’ve seen it open people’s hearts, set them aflame with purpose, force them go within and find what their lives were lacking, and I’ve seen it open previously closed doors. I have seen it bring out the best and worst in both patient and family. One thing I have concluded about cancer is that it cannot be put into a box. The cure to cancer is not a singular one. In my experience, both the cause and the cure is threefold. I believe there are emotional, spiritual, and physical factors to cancer. Prevention is the road that I have personally taken, but along with prevention has come tremendous research. I have concluded that prevention and cure are held in opposition by time and knowledge. Prevention being the best way to avoid cancer, but sometimes fate has a way of creeping in and showing us something else, whatever the ultimate outcome may be.
Adopted at birth, I recently found my biological mother. During my long search I found that I had a full blood brother, two years my senior, that my mother raised as a single parent. He was never told of my existence and so meeting my biological family was both welcome and inspiring for everyone, including my adoptive family. Just when I was settling in to my new extended family, I received a startling phone call. In early December of 2009, the mother I had known for only two years called me. “I have stage-four brain cancer and have three to six months to live”, she said. My heart skipped a beat. I immediately thought of the “Incurables” Program from American Botanical Pharmacy. It is the only program I have seen work 100% of the time on all of my friends. It is a 30-day detoxification regimen done at home along with a juice fast. But stage 4 brain cancer was different. I had never known anyone to have such an extreme and desperate form of cancer. My intuition told me to look deeper.
Five months prior to my mother’s brain diagnosis, she had a serious bout with stage-four lung cancer. This was only within a couple of weeks of my boyfriend being diagnosed with stage-three liver and kidney cancer. Within two weeks I learned that two of the most important people in my life could possibly die. I did what I would have done for myself. I put together a regimen that focused on detoxification and lifestyle change. My boyfriend immediately started on the regimen but my mother decided to follow the advice of her HMO doctors who told her she had an “operable” tumor in her right lung. She opted to have it removed. After having a rib, the upper lobe of her right lung, and a tumor the size of an orange removed, she was told it was “all gone, and just in time”. Five months later, while driving, she noticed multiple cars honking at her. When she turned her head to the left she noticed her car door was wide open! She then realized she was blind on the left side of her left eye and her movement was impaired. She jumped the curb to her driveway and barely made it into the house before she began experiencing paralysis on the left side of her body. After an MRI, she was told her lung cancer had metastasized to the brain and a 1.4cm tumor was aggressively growing over her ear. With a high risk of permanent motor-skill damage, she was told it was inoperable and sent home to die. Hospice arrived that afternoon.
By the time the lung cancer had metastasized to my mother’s brain, my boyfriend had successfully completed the “Incurables” Program and his cancer was completely gone. His doctors were dumbfounded. They told him that they had never seen a patient make such a turnaround before and if they hadn’t tested him three times, they would have thought they were looking at the test of a different patient. When they gave him the good news, he broke down crying. Unlike me, he had never seen the program work before and frankly, he didn’t believe in it. He did it to appease me. I knew it would work for him, but my mother was another story. I felt her tumor had less to do with toxicity and more with cell phone radiation and aspartame DNA damage. As a top-producing mortgage broker for many years, she was an avid cell phone user. She was also addicted to diet soda which contains aspartame, a known substance for causing brain tumors in laboratory rats. She was up to 12 cans per day at one point. Not a good prognosis. Her blood-brain barrier had been compromised and she was going to be a tough nut to crack. I could tell, and I was right.
Lung cancer that metastasizes through the lymph to the brain is one of the worst cancers to contract. The survival rate is almost nonexistent. I began calling every integrative doctor I knew. I found that my doctor was involved in a study being conducted in Nevada that boasted an 89% success rate. I don’t know how, but fate had it that my mother made it there through snow and ice. Partially paralyzed and in a wheelchair, she committed to taking part in the study for three weeks which required her sitting in an easy chair on an I.V. drip for two hours a day. The I.V. drip consisted of a simple glucose solution with a molecular “piggy back” substance derived from aspirin. It is known to kill cancer cells violently. Since cancer loves sugar, the patient is intravenously flooded with the glucose-based serum which is immediately absorbed into the hungry cancer cells, and like a Trojan horse, explodes the cell once inside. My mother initially had phenomenal results from this method, was up and out of her wheelchair within a few days, her paralysis gone, she was filled with hope and looking healthy. When she finished the program three weeks later, she went home and continued on an oral form of the glucose compound.
Within a week my mother was paralyzed on the left side again. Within two weeks she was unable to stay at home even with 24 hour nursing care. By the third week she was admitted into a skilled nursing facility and her tumor had grown to almost 4cm. We had to think fast. She was unable to travel in order to get back on the intravenous protocol again. After much deliberation and searching outside of her HMO we were able to find someone who would perform surgery to remove the tumor. Her eye was bulging and her face contorted. She was in diapers and could barely talk. She would have been in a coma or dead within days for certain if nothing was done. With surgery came the risk of being rendered a vegetable for the rest of her life. We held faith and took the chance. She had the surgery on February 11, 2010. It was a success. A CT Scan concluded her body was cancer-free. She is just beginning to have movement in her previously “dead” arm and leg, and the doctors and staff believe she will regain much, if not all, of her motor skills. For now, she has another chance. If she is proactive, I believe she can become a new person, healthier than before.
What would I do if I were diagnosed with such a rare form of cancer as James “Rhio” Conner or such an extreme case as my mother? This is never an easy question, but after the initial shock, I would hit it from every angle I could. I would connect with the healing electromagnetic energy of the earth by removing my shoes and grounding myself in the sand, the ocean, the dirt. I would oxygenate my blood with pranayama breathing techniques and oxygen supplements and products. Cancer can’t live in an oxygenated or alkaline environment. Cancer cells are anaerobic and most people are chronically hypoxiated. I would alkalinize my body with proper diet and water. I would detoxify my body and strengthen my immune system. I would nourish my body with organic foods and supplements teaming with antioxidants. I would make sure there was no serious geopathic stress in the area that I sleep or sit for many hours a day. I would not use a mobile phone or wireless internet service. I would seek out only allopathic treatments with high success rates, if there is such a thing. Most importantly, I would listen to my inner voice. It is my intuition what has kept me and many others well all these years and, so far, hasn’t let me down yet.
By: Keller, Tamara