Here’s a Holiday themed Holy Sit chapter you might enjoy. Don’t worry, it has a happy ending!
It was December 2011, I had started taking the herbal protocol that Dr. C gave me to help me heal from cancer naturally. The protocol included high doses of vitamin C, pancreatic enzymes, and a more controversial root that my brother, Jim, nicknamed “Eye of Newt.” This was the killer herb that would help me escort the cancer AKA Uterine Space Invader out of my uterus. This was the strongest herb in the bunch and I needed to build up to its full strength. The protocol called for an aggressive build-up; one capsule the first meal, 2 the second, 3 the third and so on. Being the over-achiever that I am, I took this seriously and I didn’t back off, even when I started to feel a little nauseous. A big part of me believed that the miracle spiritual surgery that took place the previous month was true, particularly with the physical proof I received and the come-to-Jesus meeting afterwards on 11.11.11. Part of me was all faith and frosting and didn’t think I actually needed to do more to heal the cancer. The other part, the logical, human, Capricorn self was all about a back-up plan to the miracle. The herbs and Eye of Newt were one of my back-up plans.
I started taking my supplements each day with breakfast, mid-morning, lunch, dinner, mid-afternoon and bedtime. I had to be upright and eating enough hours of the day to fit it all in. I also had to conduct coffee enemas five times a week to clear the toxins out of my system. It was stressful going to work and planning enough heavy vegetarian meals to help me stomach the herbs. I was building up to over 100 pills a day. By about the third day, I felt the nausea kicking in, but I didn’t back down on Eye of Newt, the obvious culprit of the nausea. I kept moving forward, adding more pills during each scheduled dose.
I also began building up some resentment. The whole protocol cost about $1200 for the month, which wasn’t covered by insurance. I was lamenting that I had chosen an alternative healing route because of my belief system and yet, I had to pay out of my pocket versus using mainstream American insurance, which I was also still paying for! I felt I was getting punished financially because I chose to stay within my belief system, but out of the mainstream health care system.
One weekend, I decided that a new pair of boots would help me feel better, so I stopped at a Nine West store at the local outlet mall. I didn’t find any boots, but a new pair of slippers made their way into my basket. As I was checking out, the friendly woman behind the counter asked me if I’d like to make a donation to the St. Jude’s Cancer Research Center. Since my slippers were on sale, and since I myself was starting to understand more personally about the hell of cancer and all of its treatment options, I couldn’t think of a reason not to make a donation. As I was signing my sales slip, the clerk casually asked me, “Did you know it costs $1200 for one round of chemotherapy for a child?” This stopped me in my tracks. Seriously? One round of chemo for a child was $1200? I was complaining because a one-month’s supply of supplements was costing me $1200 out of my own pocket? I thought of all of the children, families and people, insured and uninsured who only know one way of healing or who only have one healing option. My compassion for anyone facing cancer rose significantly. And, my gratitude that I actually had $1200 to put into my own alternative health options increased 100 fold.
I thanked the woman for the on-sale slippers and the priceless paradigm shift. I didn’t complain again about the cost of my treatment. I chose this and there were good reasons why I felt it was the right choice for me.
As the nausea from the supplements continued, I began driving to work with a plastic vomit bag on my lap and the car windows rolled down. It was December 2011, and I was convinced that I was going to hurl my breakfast and $25 worth of supplements out the car window on my drive across the gorgeous hills of Petaluma California. The natural beauty around me, the sparkling holiday season and my peaceful avocation were in stark contrast to my nauseous body, frightened soul and non-peaceful demeanor.
One night, while driving home from work, I drove through downtown Petaluma towards the grocery store. I felt alone, sick, scared and paranoid. What if the Eye of Newt was actually burning my insides out? Not only would I still have cancer, but if I kept taking this stuff, I wondered if my intestines would get hoola-hoop sized holes in them. Then, I imagined my colon being obliterated as the supplements made their way through my entire digestive tract. Perhaps I wouldn’t die of cancer. Perhaps I would die because my undigested food wouldn’t have anywhere to go; it would all just sit in my disintegrating stomach and burn a hole through that too until finally, my insides were a seething cesspool of rotted food, expensive herbs and fragments of intestines. No, I would not die of cancer. I would surely die of stomach rot from the inside out.
Clearly, I was not doing well.
The song on the radio added a notch to my self-pity belt. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” sang the sweetly, sickly holiday song. “SAYS WHO?” I screamed at the radio! “THIS IS THE MOST F*CKING SCARY, MISERABLE TIME OF MY LIFE. WHO SAYS IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR? PEOPLE ARE STILL LIVING AND DYING IN POVERTY, SOLD INTO SLAVERY, HUNGRY AND CAN’T AFFORD FOOD LET ALONE PRESENTS FOR THIS RIDICULOUSLY MANUFACTURED HOLIDAY. JESUS IS PROBABLY PISSED ABOUT THE WHOLE THING AND I STILL HAVE EFFING CANCER! It was time for more I-scream therapy. I let my inner lion roar her despair, drowning out the deceitful holiday tune.
As I was practicing I-scream therapy in my car, I realize with irony, that I was driving past the local ice-cream shop – The Petaluma Creamery. This innocent ice cream and cheese shop suddenly represented everything I loved, but couldn’t have right now – sugar, dairy and simple life indulgences. My misery broadened as I viewed the Christmas lights brightly decorating an old-fashioned chuck-wagon outside of the creamery. For whatever reason, that damn chuck-wagon seemed to represent all that used to be good in America and it made me angrier to see it all dressed up with holiday lights. I wanted to believe things were still good, but I couldn’t help but notice that our country had been deeply affected by rapid progress without equally rapid ethical checks. Our food supply was no longer pure; our healthcare and pharmaceutical systems were now profit-making machines; and our frenzied consumer-ism that Christmas now so blatantly represented had left us losing sight of the real intention of the Holidays - love, family and presence, not presents.
And in this bleary-eyed irrational yet inspired moment, I wanted to break something that represented the imperfect reality of present-day America because it represented all that was good and sick and broken within me too! The closest thing to destroy, was the Petaluma Creamery…
In the movie version of this scene, I destroyed the creamery that night and it went something like this: I plowed my peacemaking Prius straight through the bedazzled chuck-wagon and directly through the glass window of the creamery. The wagon split cleanly in half as I thrust it through the storefront window. Glass and wood rained down on my car and the little Americana shop. I didn't kill anybody, of course. However, the staff and customers were all in shock as the ice-cream display was shoved backwards six feet stopping upright in front of a metal-mouthed, red-headed teenager with the unfortunate evening shift that fateful December night. Wooden slats were hanging loosely from the hood of my dented and dusty car. I pried open my driver’s side door, stumbled out, straightened myself up and said in the most casual way possible. “Merry Christmas! Forgive my abrupt entrance, but I was having a MASSIVE craving for some Rocky Road Ice Cream!” And, I don’t even like Rocky Road! But that ridiculous sparkling chuck-wagon out front was destroyed and the Christmas song had stopped playing on my radio and for one precious minute, I wasn’t thinking about our defective country, my nausea, the cancer or the fact that I was still single, it was Christmas, and I was possibly killing myself with experimental herbs and Starbucks coffee up my butt! And, scene.
Now, three years later, as I sit in my warm compassion-cottage, blessed to be cancer-free and a LOT more joyful than I was that year, there is some proof that happy endings are possible. We still have some work to do on our country, our food supply and our healthcare systems. And, I still have some work to do to finish writing this book - Holy Sit. But alas, those things can wait until after the New Year and time spent being loving and present with family and friends.
I wish you and yours a very happy, healthy and peaceful holiday season.
In peace,
Emily
Note: This Holy Sit blog is one in a series of blog posts that tell the story of my journey healing from cancer without surgery, radiation or chemotherapy. It's also about spiritual awakening and finding inner peace and compassion in a chaotic world. If you want to read the full story, check out the chapter titles on the Holy Sit home page & start with this one.