CHAPTER 22 Curve Balls & New Plans

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copyright 2017 Chris Smith. All rights reserved.

"Brush the tear

from my face

and promise me everything

but you."

@RantingsOfaGirl


"The Gerson Miracle" documentary DVD came in the mail from Netflix.com. It was the first time we'd used Netflix. I was impressed how fast it arrived. Dad and I sat down over breakfast one morning and watched it. The documentary was amazing and Dr. Gerson was ahead of his time in his research and subsequent juicing program to help support healing.

I was brought up with nutritional supplements. We'd been taking them as a family for as long as I could remember. It wasn't until the Doc, our chiropractor, I'd learned not all supplements were created equal. The only way to be sure they were a good product and helped support issues the individual was dealing with was to muscle test (Applied Kinesiology) them and see what the body said, energetically. While the American Medical Association didn't believe in it in Applied Kinesiology, I'd found it worked for me. I was healed in ways all their scientific study and drugs hadn't been able to help me.

After all, as the old saying goes, "The proof is in pudding."

Since we were already believers in nutrition, the juicing idea from Dr. Gerson seemed right up our alley. But we found the idea of coffee enemas a little discouraging. I guess Dad and I would have to flip a coin as to who was going to give Mom those, every day. It would be under a huge fucking assumption that we could even get Mom to cooperate. I couldn't imagine trying to give her enemas if she turned all "Hostile State" on us. It was a scene that had the potential of poopie everywhere.

Though at this point Dad and I would do about anything if it helped Mom heal. We'd run around the outside of the house nekid and chanting if it helped. Our truth and main goal was to help Mom heal. If need be, we'd drag her there, kicking, biting, and fighting us every fucking step of the way. The woman was not going to die on our watch. No sir.

When Mom was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer, it threw Dad and I. We never expected to become so sick. It was a curve ball we didn't know what to do with or how to hit. We knew we didn't want chemo. Neither one of us were on the fence about that. But we didn't know what else to do. We had no idea for the picture on how to help Mom heal. The Gerson documentary was helping us flush out the unknown and give us something to use to fight the cancer.

We needed a new Western Medicine Doctor for Mom now that she was out of the Hospital. So we'd found a doctor from their list whose office was right down the street from us. On the day of the appointment, we helped dress Mom and loaded her into the car. Everything took more time now.

When we arrived at the building we loaded her out of the car and went up the elevator to their office. We signed in at the reception desk and waited. The waiting room and reception area was full of about thirty people. I don't know how many doctors they had but it must have been more than one.

Then a male patient stormed out of the patient exam offices into the waiting room towards, what I assume was his female partner. His female partner listened to him and walked over to the reception desk. I was sitting about fifty yards from her but I could see on her face she was quite upset. The staff seemed to be overall uninterested. Their physical gestures were void of any compassion about either supporting her or trying to help resolve the situation. I sat there in the chair, right next to Mom. I was silent. But inside I wanted to SCREAM.

What kind of Doctor's office was this?

What type of people worked here?

Sure, everyone has "problem" patients. The ones who bring drama where ever they go. I didn't see any of the staff trying to help the upset woman at all. I was disgusted by the whole scene.

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