Are bad bladders a coincidence?
In a recent blog I spoke about my friend Gary who died of bladder cancer and that I had offered to help him with the Gerson juice therapy. Coincidentally, right now, I have another coffee friend, Johnny, who is 65 years old. He’s Syrian but was born in Palestine. Johnny’s not his real name. I enjoy talking to him because he speaks Arabic and gives me the Oriental—that is, the Levant—viewpoint on what the US is doing there. He’s been in the United States for over 40 years but still knows the skinny on that area. He says it’s all about the money. But Johnny, like Gary who died, also has bladder cancer.
What is normal?
The funny thing is nothing is really wrong with him. A long time ago he had a problem so he went in for a cystoscopy. This is a process in which the doctor sticks a tube with a camera up the penis and looks in the bladder for cysts. If they find anything, they either cut it out or biopsy it. Well, they found something and cut it out. After a few days Johnny started pissing blood and went three times to the ER with the same result: “That’s normal after taking out a cyst.”
Cut it out, it’s “just routine.”
When I say nothing was wrong with him, I don’t exactly mean that. He felt fine. Yet, he has diabetes and shoots himself up with insulin. Before he went in for the cystoscopy, they tested his blood count. White cells too high! He has leukemia! Can’t do the operation until the blood count gets stabilized. His eyesight is going so he has to have needle shots into his eyes. He’s keeps getting broken blood vessels in this legs from the diabetes and to top it off, he’s got two fungus toe nails. But he wasn’t in pain from his bladder. Just a routine check.
Is there an Anti-protocol Protocol?
For the last year I’ve been suggesting he come with me to the natural foods store and get started on the protocol of natural vitamins and whole foods, but he won’t do it. Like my old friend Gary who died from chemo, Johnny looks to the medical profession—he looks at them like gods.—Gods which spend less than 5 minutes examining him, unzip him and zip him back up, push this or that wonder drug–use a silver allopathic bullet to kill the werewolf incubus spreading inside.
Is there a magic bullet?
There’s a phrase from a song by Cream, or maybe Stevie Winwood: “Come down on your own, and leave your body alone. . . “ Believing that doctors have a magic cure for your disease goes back to the very heart of our tribal ancestral indoctrination by the class of priests.
I wish I had the answer, but . . .
If you’ve got cancer, get all the help you can but be very wary of cutting, radiation, or chemo.
Let’s be a little less serious. Sometimes you need a diversion. Check out
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