CHAPTER 25 Start Your Juice

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copyright 2017 Chris Smith  All rights reserved.

"I'm not brave. Bravery is something you see in real life heroes. I'm just a girl, trying to survive another day."

@RantingsOfaGirl


Today was the day to bite the bullet. It was the day of first steps. I pulled out the Gerson books to find the first juice I was going to do. I was nervous. After all, it wasn't like my Mom's whole life depended on it.

Right?

Dad and I spent the day before shopping at a local grocery store that was geared more towards the nuts and berry people. I had made a list of all the Gerson juice ingredients, some of it I never heard of before. I stood in front of the produce section, my eyes scanning the refrigerated shelves, searching for the strange names on my list.

We were buying things we had never bought before and part of me felt a little like an idiot. The juicing would push us into a new world. We would be foreigners with nothing but love, a little hope, and "outside the box" research as our guides.

We couldn't rely on Western Medicine for a path towards healing. We didn't like their outlook. Frankly, we believed there was more out there. We knew there were more choices because we'd been exposed to some of them through the Doc, our chiropractor, in our journey of healing. We done all sorts of unique therapies that most M.D.s would probably scoff at. But they worked. They worked and we healed. If we were going to have any sort of chance worth a damn in saving Mom, it wasn't going to come from any fucking chemo.

Why?

The answer was simple. Dad and I didn't believe in chemo. Sure it worked for some people. The scientific data was all there. But there were people it didn't work for. Not only that, but we didn't believe in the idea of chemo and the damage it did to the body down deep in our souls. We had no faith in it. We didn't trust Western Medicine no matter how many times they argued, pressured, tried to make us feel inferior, tried to tell us we should let Mom die, or how often they shoved their scientific data in our faces.

We were going to take the path less traveled. We'd lived most of our lives on such paths enough. We could go it alone. We would survive despite what the "experts" thought about us. Fuck them and all their data and their judgment. We were going to risk it all and roll the dice.

Mom didn't have a plan. But she would follow one we came up with. So we hoped, with fingers and toes and hearts and souls crossed.

Mom sat on the bed, per her usual schedule. I stood in the kitchen, at the edge of what we'd come through. Then I turned around to look up at the enormous rock face in my path. Not even the brilliant minds of Western Medicine thought we could do it. I wasn't even a climber! But what the fuck. It was time to start to climbing.

I pulled out all the ingredients to cut up for the first juice. I was excited and nervous. This path was a total leap of faith. If it worked it would be a real miracle and big "Fuck You" to Western Medicine.

The Gerson Institute's recipe didn't give much on information on how much produce per serving. I'd have to learn on the fly. I looked at the juice. It turned out to be a meager amount. But hey, it was juice. It was a beginning. We had to start somewhere.

I walked back into the living room to present the juice to Mom, as if I was presenting food from the Gods themselves. All I was missing was a gold serving platter adorned with jewels. Thankfully Mom was open to drinking it. She chugged it down and I took a photo of her drinking her first juice. This was huge!

I made one more juice that day, a green one. Mom drank all of them. We stepped onto the juicing path of healing with hopeful hearts.


Me to Dad: 2nd juice in...the green juice.


1st Juice Day 1

Apple

Carrots

2nd Juice Day 1

Gerson Green Juice

(my recipe portions)

4 leaves romaine lettuce

2 leaves escarole

1 leaf red cabbage

¼ piece green pepper

1 apple

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