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True Stories by Steve Keely
A Cancer Letter
(I wrote this to a friend whose mother was on last legs. The letter was circulated in a speculatorsí website and the part about desert car air filters excerpted nationally. Like my mom, hers died. In times, ahead weíll look back and pale at present cancer ďtherapyĒ. This letter is not intended as medical advice since Iím not a physician. Bo Keeley, í01)
I offer my brief appraisal of cancer and its treatment; some of which runs counter to the volumes you have studied. I think one day the light will shine that this is a disease of the compromised host. There may be a direct causative agent but the slightly more significant etiology relates to compromised general health. In short, cancer is an opportunist of weakened tissue or organ. That doesnít help your mother at this point, but thereís more.
I believe at least 50 percent of the population over 55 years of age in America has cancer in one form or another. Most will die of other natural causes; all the better not having it ever diagnosed. That is, the cancer will figure little or not at all in their death. The analogy is a desert car that is taken to a mechanic for a routine checkup. He takes off the air filter cap and discovers there is a dirty filter. He cleans the filer and charges the fee but there is no change in performance. Eventually the car quits running and itís easy to point to the air filter as cause. Or, he concocts some fancy treatment for the filter, which ruins the engine and shortens the carís life span. The point is: It would be found that nearly every car in the desert, a compromising environment, has a dirty air filter yet runs fine.
That still doesnít help your mother who indeed has cancer. The following may, though. Most of us think the body is a solid mass when itís more accurate to appraise ourselves as walking sponges. We are much fluids, absorbing tissues and organs, and sometimes-diseased areas bathed in fluids. We have enough blood vessels to reach the moon and back. The heart is the transport system pump, and pressure pushes fluid into the tissues. We are not, as the adage goes, what we eat but rather what we drink.
A spot of infection, inflammation or disease should be bathed in continually changing fluids for it to heal rapidly. Your mom should be drinking distilled water (like the kind you buy for the steam iron, which is the same as rainwater.) Never tap water, and preferably not bottled spring water. I think distilled water grabs things into solution better than water with minerals. She should not drink sodas or anything from an eatery thatís mixed with tap water. People worry about the bacteria & other microorganisms in tap water, and thatís a distraction from the real evils within. Iíve never met anyone whoís experimented longer and at more sources with water than me, and thatís the platform of my conclusion.
My recommendation is that your mom carry a flask of water wherever she goes. Or, have a few stashed at regularly visited places. Also, itís refreshing to freeze a jug of distilled water in the freezer, and drink the melt-water all day in the summer. Donít forget to leave 10 percent space at the top of the jug to allow for expansion during freezing. (I do this for hiking, and itís an idea for the tennis court too.)
Is your mom a vegetarian? I have a sense this would help, though Iím not positive.
Any oral medication should be taken with great quantities of water. The stomach is as a quart-balloon and the intestines as extended balloons on which medication first lays in a lump, gradually absorbed by blood. The medication is so potent that it must be diluted with water, preferably room temp or lukewarm. Take a glass with a pill, and another after.
Chemo or radiation therapy obligates drinking lots more water. The chore becomes almost forced drinking because thereís no thirst, but thirst canít be relied on as a gauge for need in this instance.
That takes care of one wing of the bird. We have talked about bathing diseased tissue in fluid to aid the transportation both of body fighters to the diseased sites and of the debris of war from the sites. And we have dealt with the idea of flooding the body as an adjunct to other treatment. The other wing of transport is flapped by exercise. To exercise means to build and teach and make strong the pump (heart) and pipes (arteries and veins). Working out lightly or moderately should become a priority in your momís life. If she feels okay, there can be an hour block of exercise in the morning, another hour in the afternoon, and itís therapeutic to have that final hour just prior to bedtime. I wonít begin to explain how adaptable the body is and what recuperative powers it owns. Just understand that exercise hastens, is even demanded, to get and stay healthy.
A word on chemo and radiation therapy. Radiation should be offered as a last resort, in my opinion. Nor am I a fan of chemotherapy because itís so difficult to precisely target the neoplasm. If the chemotherapeutic can be directly injected into the diseased tissue, then OK. However, this is not the normal course of administration and hence what happens, I think, is the rest of the body tissues become compromised by the toxicity of the chemotherapeutic. It becomes more generally susceptible to cancer even as the main target healsÖ thatís a can of worms. Alternative therapy is probably best, along with what Iíve outlined above. The Peruvian Amazon is now abuzz with medicinal plant specialists. The place is a jungle pharmacy. You wouldnít believe it.
My mother was vivacious until they inadvertently discovered, like a dirty air filter not causing any trouble, breast cancer. By the time I got to her she was dying from the therapy. She would probably have lived like a strong desert car to a ripe old age, happy in all gears, without knowing she had cancer. Is your mother suffering more from cancer or the treatment? My mom died in my arms by choking on food misfed by the same staff that was treating her for cancer. Not a bad way to go, I suppose, in this case, but it should not have been for another thirty years.
Your mom is intelligent to realize that one day in the distant future there is no fear in death. Until then, I hope some of the above is useful.