On the Road to Recovery

by Lois Zinn


No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
                       ~Aesop


"You've come such a long way" said my neighbor, Frannie when I told her a year had already passed from the day I learned I had cancer.  On that bleak February day, I hardly knew Frannie when I told her my diagnosis in the hope that she would watch my cat during my unexpected hospital stay.  To my relief, she did, and to my surprise, so much more.

With my family thousands of miles away, Frannie was an angel, driving me to and from tutoring appointments weeks after surgery, before I was allowed to drive or lift anything.  She would carry my weighty, book-filled totes, wait patiently during the session, and take me home again.  Weeks later, when I dreaded the idea of traveling hundreds of miles to see a doctor I thought could save me, Frannie went above and beyond, enthusiastically volunteering to drive me there and back.  "I don't expect you to do that!" I told her, but Frannie insisted, saying, "My brother lives there, and I would love the chance to see him."

Talking made the time fly on our six-hour drive in Frannie's old, blue Subaru.  I remember wanting to stop at the Lancaster quilting shops but our forging ahead instead on our seemingly endless journey.  At one point, I thanked Frannie for all her help, and she thanked me, too, saying that she had become too complacent in life and was inspired by my will to live. 

Certainly, my belief that I could recover and choosing a doctor wisely have contributed greatly to my healing.  Diet, supplements, and stress reduction continue to be of paramount importance.  Equally as important, though, has been the support from others, like Frannie, who have shown they care:  my friends and coworkers who raised over $2,500 to pay for doctor's expenses that I could not otherwise afford; my boyfriend who took weeks off from work to care for me following surgery; my meditation teacher who made me aware of subtle patterns of behavior I needed to change; the acupuncturist who built up my immune system and refused to take a cent; the healing gifts of a juicer, Needak trampoline, green cleaning products, and music/meditation CD's; visitors with meals; phone calls, emails, and prayers, even an anonymous benefactor who paid for ceramics lessons, which was a form of therapy in my return to health.

Growing up in a Brooklyn high rise, neighbors were mysterious figures behind cold, metal doors.  Back then I was raised to believe we were independent entities, responsible only to ourselves; I had no real understanding of the power of community.  I see life differently now and am blown away and infinitely grateful to the loving beings in my midst. 


Lois Zinn is a reading specialist living in the Fair Trade town of Media, Pennsylvania.  She has edited for health advocate Gary Null and now writes about her personal healing experiences in the hopes of inspiring others.  Lois can be reached at loiszinn@hotmail.com.  

They Lie Like Scoundrels

by Lois Zinn

Everyone should know that most cancer research is largely a fraud, and that the majority of cancer research organizations are derelict in their duties to the people who support them.

                   -Linus Pauling

                          

Recently, I heard a 12-year-old raising money for the Alex's Lemonade Stand charity exclaim on local radio that "childhood cancer stinks" as he asked listeners to dig into their pockets for a good cause.  A few days later at a street fair, I saw a teenage girl manning a table for the American Cancer Society crying, "Cupcakes for a cause." It struck me that despite good intentions and a heart of gold, this young man and woman, like so many people, have been fooled into believing that cancer organizations are winning the war against cancer.  The people "fighting" cancer are winning only in the sense that they are making tremendous profits for themselves.  Cancer patients following their lead, however, are doing as poorly as ever, and the disease is reaching epidemic proportions. 

My distrust for mainstream cancer medicine goes far back, stemming from the helplessness I felt watching my 58-year-old mother lose her life to the disease in 1981.  Mom put on a brave front, but suffered terribly before her demise.  I always wondered whether her unfortunate death was a result of the cancer or the "cure."

Then in the 1990's, I worked with health advocate Gary Null, transcribing tapes from his radio broadcasts and helping to edit several of his books.  I read scores of testimonials from people given terminal cancer diagnoses, alive and well years later only because they bolted from the institutions that gave them death sentences, running instead to independently-minded medical doctors with good track records.  I found this inspiring, and it made an indelible impression on my mind. 

Today's standard cancer therapies, with their origins in late 19th and early 20th century practices, have not advanced much beyond their beginnings.  Surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy were then, as now, the law of the land, and the success rate of these methods has been greatly inflated by statistical methods.  In oncology, people surviving five years or more are considered cured.  If cancer is found in another part of their system in five years and a day, statistics will still say they are cured of their original cancer.  Moreover,  cancers are detected earlier. Therefore, a larger period of time is allotted to the medical establishment to claim success, when, in reality, people often die at the same rate as previously.  The only difference is earlier detection creates the illusion of longer survival.  Additionally, if a person dies during the course of therapy, he or she is not included as a cancer death statistic.  These tricks of the trade make success rates appear higher than they really are.

Patients are deceived, too, with ambiguous language, an Orwelian doublespeak, where carefully chosen words are used to mislead people into believing they are being helped when they are not.  When a cancer doctor tells patients they are responding to chemotherapy, it sounds as if they are improving.  Not so.  This term means that the tumor is shrinking temporarily, but almost certain to return. When an oncologist says a treatment is palliative, patients are told this means the treatment is making them more comfortable without poisoning them.  Among themselves, however, oncologists use the term to mean partial treatment with an inability to cure. 

Doctors who dare to recommend approaches other than surgery, chemotherapy, or radiation risk harassment, losing their licenses, going to jail, and even murder.  The genius Max Gerson, who saved countless lives--longtime friend Albert Schweitzer, a patient himself, called Gerson the most eminent genius in the history of medicine--died suspiciously of arsenic poisoning just as his book A Cancer Therapy: A Result of 50 Cases was about to be published.

In the documentary "A Beautiful Truth" (http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/beautiful-truth), a woman given a death sentence by the Mayo Clinic for Stage IV extra ovarian primary peritoneal carcinoma, a diagnosis no one has ever survived with conventional medicine, lives to tell her tale.  Five years following treatment from the Gerson Clinic, she revisits her original oncologist, and he is astounded to see her alive.  The woman asks her former doctor to state on film that the Gerson therapy has cured her.  He is willing to do so, but the Mayo Clinic panics and calls the police, who whisk her away as if she were a terrorist.  To his credit, the doctor subsequently quits the Mayo Clinic to help patients without such restrictions.

Actress Suzanne Somers, herself a cancer survivor, writes in her bestseller Knockout about several doctors who have had to fight for their professional lives, including Dr. James Forsythe, a traditionally trained oncologist who became dismayed at losing so many cancer patients to standard care.  For having shifted toward alternative approaches with far better results, he reaped the following reward; a not-so-friendly visit from government agents in 2005.  Writes Somers:  Dressed in black flak jackets and with guns drawn, several federal agents prepared to knock down the door of his home with a battering ram, demanding to know if he kept guns in the house.  He was treated like a criminal rather than one of America's most respected doctors; he was ordered to kneel and a gun was pushed to his forehead....Federal agents and prosecutors trashed his pristine reputation and tried to portray him in the news media as a sleazy doctor who employed questionable techniques.  Years later, Dr. Forsythe was found innocent and allowed to continue caring for cancer patients.

Unfortunately, these cases are the rule rather than the exception, which is why doctors making a difference often leave the United States or keep a low profile.  "Imagine what a difference we could make if the medical system embraced us," said Charlotte Gerson, who runs the clinic started by her father near Tijuana, Mexico.

Of course, not all patients choosing traditional care perish, nor does everyone going the nontraditional path survive.  The road to recovery is a highly personal, intuitive choice, and one does the best they can with the information at hand.  To make the best decision possible, it is imperative that this information be reliable.  For the powers-that-be to give false data, use misleading language, hide information, and use bully tactics is unconscionable. 

Cancer organizations distort the truth and report success for one reason only:  Who would donate to an organization claiming continual failure?  Says prominent cancer researcher Hardin Jones, Ph.D., "The more cures the press releases claim, the more money cancer organizations raise."  Think about it.  Since the 1950's, the war on cancer has garnered a lot of money with little to show for it.  Regarding the message of the American Cancer Society, M. Dean Burk, a 34-year employee for the National Cancer Institute concluded,  "They lie like scoundrels."

Lois Zinn is a reading specialist living in the Fair Trade town of Media, Pennsylvania.  She has edited for health advocate Gary Null and now writes about her personal healing experiences in the hopes of inspiring others.  Lois can be reached at loiszinn@hotmail.com.  

Transcending Fear

by Lois Zinn

When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.
                                                               ~ Russian Proverb 



Although I long ago accepted as fact the idea that life is eternal, that the Soul continues after the body shuts down, reincarnating again and again, developing qualities that result in evolution and eventual freedom, still I could not dismiss what had been told to me with a cavalier, "Ah well, see you in another life."  No, I was deeply caught up in my drama and deeply afraid.  Friends cried for me, pitied me, treated me like I was already gone.  "It's not a good prognosis," said the principal at my high school when I broke the news to her.  "They haven't made much progress in ovarian cancer treatment," said a friend, a microbiologist who knew what he was talking about when it came to medicine.  My brother, also smart and savvy, said that the survival rate was just 48%.  He did not say, but I later learned that the percentage of survivors decreased over time and that I had virtually no chance of survival a couple of years down the road.

I was feeling hopeless.  I'd walk around like a shadow person, imagining other people going about their daily lives but myself no longer in the picture.  Breathing took effort.  Still affected by the drugs pumped into me during my recent operation, I would lie in bed, weak and fragile, knowing that all the negativity was just feeding the cancer, but not knowing how to stop it.  I would call my meditation teacher daily for distance healing, and whenever I would express fear he would reply, "In getting well, attitude is most important."

Friends said to relax, but I didn't think I had that luxury.  The oncologist made it sound like my only option was chemotherapy, and they were going to start the procedure in just a few weeks.  I was reacting to that "solution" with dread as I didn't see this choice of therapy as effective.  I thought I would have to move to Cleveland to be with my boyfriend so that he could take care of me during my sickness and impending death.

I began to wonder if there were viable alternatives I should consider.  Each day I would force myself to do some research on the Internet.  I also consulted with Steve Meyrowitz aka the Sproutman who put me in contact with alternative healing agencies.  I read books about alternative healing and was particularly impressed with the Gerson Institute. Still unsure of the exact treatment I would choose to follow, I did at least form this conclusion:  I would need to take a completely alternative approach to treatment as chemotherapy would only weaken my immune system and damage healthy organs and tissues rendering healing even more difficult.

My friend, Susan, was a great help to me during this time.  I was following multiple leads as to whom I would work with, and was often too tired to pursue these options.  Susan would diligently call various doctors and clinics for me, finding out information on the therapies offered and on the price of treatments. During one such assignment, Susan called me back with a most pleasant response.  The doctor she spoke to not only answered the phone himself and took the time to speak to her, but he said I could call with any questions.  This despite the fact that I lived hundreds of miles away and would probably not be working with him.  I did call this doctor and immediately choose to work with him.  This doctor did not believe in chemotherapy treatments (they cause cancer, he said) or CAT scans (which emit the equivalent of 420 chest x-rays).  He had been doing metabolic cancer therapy for over 30 years, with great success, and former patients told me I was in good hands.  As soon as I made up my mind to work with this doctor, I felt safe, and I could sleep peacefully again.  And when I at last went to see him and told him how grateful I felt to have found him, his response was,  "There are no accidents."

Lois Zinn is a reading specialist living in the Fair Trade town of Media, Pennsylvania.  She has edited for health advocate Gary Null and now writes about her personal healing experiences in the hopes of inspiring others.  Lois can be reached at loiszinn@hotmail.com.  

A Big Bad Surprise

by Lois Zinn


"One of the big problems with the hell realms is that the suffering is so intense that we become completely engulfed by it, rendering us incapable of action.  For this reason, it is very difficult to break free."
                                                                                     Ani Tenzin Palmo
                                                                                     Reflections on a Mountain Lake:
                                                                                       Teachings on Practical Buddhism

It happened in 2012, the year some say the world as we know it will end.  Coincidentally, it is the year of my second Saturn return, a 29-1/2 year cycle often resulting in considerable pressure and an awareness of one's own mortality.  Despite this knowledge, it still came as a shock to me when I learned that I was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer.

In my  mind, cancer was not a possibility as I had always taken good care of myself.  I ate well--no red meat or even chicken--and mostly organic food.  I was a pretty relaxed person in general and meditated to alleviate any stress I did have.  Moreover, I exercised regularly and practiced breathing exercises.  I had a support group of friends, too.  All the right things I did, or so I thought.  Was the world just too toxic for my body to handle?  Was there something emotional buried deep within my subconscious that brought this on?  

"Why did you catch it so late?" I asked my oncologist, a young, aggressive doctor who upon finding that the cystic ovary he had just removed was cancerous proceeded with a total hysterectomy.  "Because the symptoms are so vague."  I had had bloating after I ate and some minor discomfort, nothing I connected to a possible cancer diagnosis.  Later I learned from a coworker that my regular pap smears didn't screen for ovarian cancer.  "It's not cost effective," she said.  "What's my prognosis?" I asked the doctor, who was vague at best.  "We'll probably get you into remission.  After that, it could return in three months, in which case it would not be a good prognosis, or in three years, a better prognosis."  I was angry at my doctors for not giving me the tests I needed to catch cancer early, for not giving me hope, for offering no choice of treatment better than toxic chemotherapy.  The news was devastating, and I could not stop the stream of tears pouring from my eyes.  

This was the worst thing that had ever happened in my life, yet the doctor did not react to my grief.  Shortly after delivering the diagnosis, he left the room hastily, and a young female assistant took his place.  She told me what would occur during chemotherapy treatments, about sitting in the hospital for hours while chemicals dripped slowly through my system, about pills to alleviate nausea, about losing time from work and losing my hair.  It was difficult to take this all in.  She left me with two books, one called Chemotherapy and You, and another on recipes for cancer patients.  She advised not to read the Internet as it would only discourage me.

 I felt hopeless and shaken.  Once home, I could do nothing other than sleep.  It felt like I had just been given a death sentence.

Lois Zinn is a reading specialist living in the Fair Trade town of Media, Pennsylvania.  She has edited for health advocate Gary Null and now writes about her personal healing experiences in the hopes of inspiring others.  Lois can be reached at loiszinn@hotmail.com.