Every idea I pursued- regardless of its merit- was relevant because I attracted it with my drive to live. I accepted cancer as the physical manifestation of my soul’s longing- to calibrate with my inherent sanctity. It was literally poking out to say “Acknowledge Me!” The activation switch went on- causing a ripple effect that I chose to ride out. What came to me was perfectly orchestrated to unfold in sync with my personal development.
Experience transformed into steppings stones-eventually leading me to my pot of gold. The gold being the answer to the million dollar question- why did I get cancer? The answer was my cure. It’s only in looking back from where I’m at now, that I understand the significance of the journey. Even the loop-de-loops that got me disoriented and scared, was part of the grand course- leading me to the permanent breakup with my lump. Stay tuned… I promise more details in due time.
There is no such thing as setbacks or wrong choices. That’s the interesting thing about perspectives. It changes from every vantage point…
The first cancer book that came to me was truly a gift. “Radical Remission: Surviving Cancer Against All Odds” by Dr. Kelly A. Turner. This book was an affirmation- a confirmation that I too could experience a Radical Remission. In the field of integrative oncology, Dr.Turner discovered the lack of research on people who cured cancer by using unorthodox approaches. Her fascination with their recoveries- against all odds- became the basis of her astounding research.
Dr. Turner travelled around the world interviewing holistic healers and radical remission survivors. After talking to over 100 survivors and studying over 1000 radical remission cases, she discovered awe inspiring parallels- nine common themes that lead to their cures. Radical Remissions tells the tales of miraculous recoveries- each person attaining health in their own unique way yet, tied with common themes.
I felt a kinship with the stories in the book- like I’d found my tribe through the collective initiation ignited by cancer. It was as if I was reading various versions of my own story. I was connected to the survivors – intuitively seeking out what we all had in common.
The number 9 started making a regular appearance-marking it’s importance since my diagnosis on 9/9/’19. Curious about it’s meaning, I found this quote on numerology.com. “The energy of the number 9 represents completion, but not finality. Think of it more in a cyclical sense; it’s about the ending of one cycle and the potential it creates for another cycle to begin. The 9 in Numerology acts as an usher in this process of transition or transformation, guiding and empowering us with its wisdom. It absorbs answers from a spiritual source, then delivers them to us in the real world.”
The Nine Radical Remission Themes:
- Changing your diet
- Taking control of your health
- Following your intuition
- Using herbs and supplements
- Releasing suppressed emotions
- Increasing positive emotions
- Embracing social support
- Deepening your spiritual connection
- Having strong reasons for living.
The first seven months of navigating my way with my lumpy companion was like taming a wild horse. I’d have breakthroughs- flying on my ride then…it would start buckin’ and freakin’ just when I thought I had the damn beast tamed. This is the process of cultivating homeostasis in body, mind and spirit.
Carving out my own healing protocol involved research and commitment. There are plenty of fancy holistic cancer clinics with wondrous testimonials that lured me in. All I’d have to do was sign up, show up, and come up with a ludicrous sum of money to hand my healing over. The cost ran anywhere between $25,000 to over $100,000 USD with extra costs to consider for follow ups. It sure gets you thinking about what you are worth… If I would have chosen that route, I would have found a way to Club Cancer Med.
I found a center in Costa Rica close to where I spent seven winters frolicking with my beloved cetacean family. I’d be dialled in tropical paradise with gourmet raw food, fresh juices, yoga classes, counselling sessions, spiritual practices, cutting edge treatments- all under the supervision of highly qualified integrative doctors. I’d be in the company of others marked with the “C”…that in itself was comforting. I fantasized about spending my days off with my finned family which surely would have contributed to my healing. It would have been so much easier…less lonely…to let go of the reins and let someone else take charge… but…it wasn’t for me.
I conceived a plan to replicate the common denominators of what the clinics offered. Most of them followed intense detoxification protocols, supplementation, anti cancer diets and self inquiry practices. I was convinced that with enough research, I could mimic a similar program in the comfort of my own home- close to my family, where I believed was the best place for me to heal.
I discovered first hand that alternative treatments can be just as intrusive as conventional therapies if not approached in a balanced manner. My detox protocol was well on the way after my 33 day grape fast. I was proud of my shit- no pun intended. Regular, smooth, snaky coils and cloudy pee delighted me as evidence of good plumbing. I stayed on track and ate like a rabbit.
Inspired by the work of Ann Wigmore and the program she created for the Hippocrates Health Institute, I started growing and juicing my own wheatgrass. I nurtured my gut drinking homemade rejuvelac- an enzyme rich, fermented, probiotic drink made of sprouted wheat berries. I revered the sacred grass- supremely high in nutrients and antioxidants. I believed in it enough to take the emerald elixir up my ass! To insure the highest quality of grass, I aspired to make my own rich soil.
I’ll never forget forging through knee deep snow to my veggie garden- adamant to find worms beneath the blanket of winter. I dug furiously until I found enough worms to force them out of hibernation to work for me. I had my system dialed with several wheatgrass trays going at a time- harvesting and using the finished carpet of cuttings as food for my miracle compost.
I cried the day my compost went missing. Al mistakenly took out the garbage can which was my compost factory. Thinking it was where I put the cat litter, he took it to the dump without looking inside. I’d grown that soil for weeks- anticipating my miracle cure. I diverted my devastation and took it as a sign to declare the end of my wheatgrass craze…
I followed the Gerson method aiming to drink 13 glasses of veggie juice a day. I ate raw-carefully planning out my meals days in advance so nuts were soaked and beans were sprouted in time to construct my meals. I ate cloves of garlic… Al could taste it when he kissed me. I restricted the consumption of oils so my cells wouldn’t get gunked up. I practiced 16 hours of intermittent fasting between my last and first meal of the day.
I joined online forums looking for radical remission survivors and found a woman who cured Non Hodgkin’s Follicular Lymphoma. She became a great ally, someone I could lean on when I got shaky. I had wonderful support from friends and family but they were not in the ring with me. She was one of many angels that blessed me along the way.
Triple handfuls of expensive supplements went down the hatch three times a day- washed down with herbal concoctions for every system in my body. I received lengthy IV infusions and stinging bites of mistletoe inoculations. Morning rituals with yoga and meditation- evening soaks in Moor Mud. Weekly dives into my can of worms and spilling my beans to my Acupuncturist. I skin brushed, I saunaed, I enemaed, I Wim Hoffed and baptized myself in frigid water on a daily basis.
I sat with Cymatic recordings of high-frequency sound waves and directed it to my lump. I practiced Ho’ponopono-expressing repentance, forgiveness, love, and gratitude. The Buddhist Heart Sutra did what “Eye Of The Tiger” did for Rocky Balboa. At night, I wrapped up my lump in flannel, soaked in castor oil and Frankincense- hoping that one day I’d wake up and it’d be gone….
The Cold Sheet Treatment- the pinnacle of my healing crisis…
To be continued on my next post…