Archive for Gerson Therapy

2011 in review

Dear Readers,
I haven’t posted lately because I’ve been busy editing prior posts and your comments in preparation for sending the manuscript to my editor for her first serious, contracted take on how it will shape up into a book. There are 47 posts and uncounted comments from you, my dear friends, in support of the writing and my personal process and Kenny’s Soul. Below is a report that WordPress produced just for your fun look-see and your Light. Before you read that, I am including the Preface that Kenny dictated through my hand just recently. It’s quite profound and gives us an idea of how the Soul looks at the human experience. Here goes:

The purpose of this book from my point of view is Divine Intervention. We are all divine and until the moment of our death, we doubt that Divinity. From the plane on which I’m now living and looking, the human being is a direct emanation from Soul, from the God Source, therefore Divine in every cell, every breath, even every thought, if one is willing to observe the root of the thought. The root of all thoughts, whether toxic or benevolent, is contained, surrounded, and embedded with Living Love.

 In this book, the reader will find a personal blessing on every page, whether it is describing a perceived negative occurrence or a revelation of the Divine. The Lord God of the Universe oversees all levels of creation and loves them all. It is only believing our mind that leads us astray. My darling wife has given of her very nature in the outpourings on these pages. Read with an open mind and awareness of how your spiritual heart is responding. Therein lay the opportunity to make choices in alignment with your highest good. And so it will at once touch your loved ones whether they are aware of it or not. For every organism is connected to every other organism in the universe, and each one is contained within the whole—the Holy Spirit, the One God of the Universe.

 By the way, I am as we say on earth, “in blissful heaven.” I am working hard, resting well, and contributing so much more than I could in my human body. And in case you’re wondering, I spend time with Carol on a regular basis, mostly while she is sleeping. If you would like me to, I will be glad to make myself known to you also. Just ask inwardly for my presence (for the highest good of course—there is no imposition meant here).

 I always remain a devoted student of the Holy Spirit, Carol’s loving husband in Spirit, and your friend,
Ken Jones

And here’s a quote from Kenny while he was still with us that spells out very clearly the message of this book. He was, and still remains, quite the writer:

 “I do not know what Spirit has in store for me. I will keep breathing as long as Spirit gives me breath. And if melanoma absolutely must claim my body, it can have it. Melanoma cannot go where I go, because I go into the pure Spirit of the Soul Realm that is my true home.”

Ken Jones
December, 2009

Loving you all and so appreciating your ongoing support and Light. It’s immeasurable.
Carol

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Syndey Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 10,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

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Houston is Probably a Nice Place

I look back on that month in Houston where Kenny sought treatment for his cancer and it appears dark, scary, and full of anxiety and at the same time, filled with the miracles of perfect timing and spiritual assistance. Overall though, I would have liked to skip the actual day-to-day-ness and just learned the lessons. It was the toughest four weeks of my life, not to mention that Kenny was very obviously losing one body function after another daily. So while Houston is probably a nice place, not so much in my memory.

When we left the Gerson clinic in Tijuana at the end of November 2009, because the melanoma had infiltrated Kenny’s brain, it was recommended that we look into the Burzynski clinic in Houston. They are known for working with cancers in the brain. We applied, some sixty pages including all his lab reports since the original mole was diagnosed in 2000. He was accepted for a start date of February 9, 2010. We took all the steps to prepare for the trip–this last-ditch effort to halt the onslaught of the monster invading his body. It was going to be two weeks of out-patient care with overnight stay at a nearby hotel, and then back home to LA for follow-up treatment.

The day before we left, one of our dear friends who is a runner, dedicated a 5K run just that weekend to Kenny’s recovery. She showed us the DVD. It was a sweet moment of prayer and communion. By this time Kenny had lost about forty pounds, was looking rather thin and felt weak compared to his old self. They’d found a lesion in his digestive tract that was bleeding and he’d already had several blood transfusions.  He needed assistance showering and drying off and was slow and deliberate in his movements and not able to drive. Another long-time friend offered to assist Kenny with showers in the mornings and that was such a treat for all of us. You see, I had been showering Kenny myself for several weeks, and it was one of the most precious moments of the day. An honoring of his body, a blessing, a sweet and profound time of taking care of his body. He loved it and I loved it. And when we asked Kev to assist so I could prepare breakfast at the same time, he loved it too. Such a privilege to care for someone so intimately.

Back to Houston. At the airport, porters met us at the curb with a wheelchair and escorted us to the plane, making sure we were comfortably seated and all tucked in. In the meantime, Heartfelt Organization and a minister in MSIA who lives in Dallas had enlisted the assistance of ministers in Houston to help when we arrived. Jesus bought all our groceries. Yvette was to learn to make juices for us and clean the kitchen in our suite almost daily. Joaquin came to visit about three times a week to chat and hold the Light. Baba was to arrive a week later and visited every single day and did errands as needed, and spent the night so I could rest and arranged a ministers meeting right in our little hotel suite. Jesus did the laundry, made the bed, and helped Kenny shower many times during our stay. Our little army of soldiers was on the march with whatever was needed.

The second day at the clinic, Ken was scheduled for a scan to assess the extent of the melanoma. He wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything until after the procedure, which was late due to another patient’s emergency. I was frantic with worry because he had been getting dehydrated very easily. I called home (the seminary) and asked that an all-call go out to everyone in the building to send Light to Kenny and the procedure immediately. This comforted me a little while forever optimistic Kenny was certain everything would be OK all along. I prayed for Divine Intervention and finally the procedure was under way–4 hours after we were supposed to go back to the hotel. Finally he could eat a meal and drink his precious carrot apple juice–we were still following the Gerson protocol. That was Wednesday. Thursday we saw the nutritionist who immediately put Kenny on a protein-rich diet–his blood work showed advanced anemia and he was very weak. It was time to “beef” up his intake after five months of a completely vegan diet, part of the Gerson plan. This was another blow to the belief that Kenny could reverse the melanoma march.

Friday we had a telltale appointment to view the scan with the doctor and the radiologist. Both were stunned at what they saw. Kenny’s entire torso was blackened on the silhouette drawing and on the actual scan pictures, tumors lit up like lightbulbs everywhere, most of them concentrated in his torso, but also scattered throughout his limbs, neck and head as well. The radiologist was heard saying, “I’ve never seen so much involvement in any other patient.” We’ll try to help, they said. Kenny said, “Maybe I’ll be your Burzynski poster child.” We walked out of the clinic that day heavy with the reality of what we saw. And as if the day before wasn’t enough change to handle, today made its way into our awareness with a one-two punch, sending me reeling with tension and worry.

The next week presented the inevitable complication, Kenny needed another transfusion. It was off to the First Street Hospital to be admitted to their emergency room to wait for blood to arrive. It took all day for blood to show up. In the meantime, our own crew of ministers came to us with food and juice, and sweet Grace drove all the way from Austin with delicious homemade soup and bread. How tenderly we were ministered to, how dear these people who hardly knew us were caring for us. I was in tears most of every day, either from gratitude or from worry or from venting anxiety or sadness or resignation, or lack of sleep or…Kenny too, but mostly from gratitude.

Finally, the next day all the blood was now in Kenny’s veins and he was released to go back to the hotel. Some more visits to the clinic in the next few days, some more good food, juices, clinic-prescribed drugs (some of which were chemotherapy that presented their own set of really uncomfortable symptoms), and it was back to the hospital again for the next blood transfusion. Only this time he was to be admitted as an inpatient for ten days to handle one advanced melanoma symptom after another. Clinic drugs were suspended while IV’s and blood were administered along with his anti-brain swelling medicine, his thyroid medicine, and a host of other pills. In his later blogs he talks about how precious it was to have a bowel movement. It became tougher and tougher and one remedy after another was suggested. None worked very well, the daily battle to complete the cycle of eating and eliminating dragged on. After months of urinating a surprising couple of gallons each day, even urinating became a problem until the Foley catheter was inserted bringing blessed relief. All the while I slept in the visitor chair in the hospital room night after night, going back to the hotel every few days only to shower while one of our dear friends stayed with Kenny. I made sure that he was never alone, never without an MSIA minister or initiate by his side.

It was time to transfer Kenny from the ICU floor to a regular room in another wing. The internist visited to draw up the release papers. He suggested Kenny might want to think about getting home as soon as we could and arranging for hospice care. Kenny declined and said he would resume his Burzynski therapy. The doctor and the nurse took me aside outside the room and said with urgency that there was only a short window of time that we had to go home before he could not travel on conventional flights. Eventually he would need a special medically equipped charter flight that would be cost-prohibitive. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was hearing and I was seeing with my own eyes, and yet I couldn’t fully grasp that Kenny was slipping away at such a fast rate now. Every day another body function was compromised.

Just a day later, the gastroenterologist blustered  in after we were settled in the new room and he announced, “Do you know about a bucket list? Well it’s time to make yours. Eat anything you want and do whatever you want. OK, Buddy?” Did all our mouths drop open? Did we hear him right? Who trained him in his delicate bedside manner? I was livid with disbelief. Couldn’t say a word, neither could Kenny nor Baba. We just let him disappear out of the room as if he never showed up. Kenny was bent on continuing his Burzynski therapy.

Some time between hospital visits in Houston Kenny said to me, “Carol, I don’t think I’m going to make it.” I knelt down beside his chair, began to sob and said to him, “Oh Kenny, don’t say that, you’re still in treatment and don’t we believe it will work?” His response was something like, “OK yes, we’re still in treatment.” Now it seems apparent to me that what he really meant was, “OK Carol, I know you can’t handle it so I won’t talk about it anymore. But the reality is I’m dying.” And I am reminded that just about a month ago I heard him talking to a friend about a favor he was asking someone to do for him and the phrase, “You wouldn’t refuse a dying man, would you?” flew through the air and stuck in my skull like a speeding bullet. But just like all the other signals that he was declining rapidly now, I stuffed that one somewhere in an airtight compartment in the far reaches of my consciousness. Denial–that my strong, tall, handsome, smart, funny, and beautiful husband was slipping into the “Well of Souls.”

But I did listen to Doc #1 and suggested to Kenny that we continue the Burzynski treatment at home, that we do what we could to get home while he could still get on a plane and off again. He was walking very little now, had to be hoisted out of his chair and tucked into bed at night, but we knew what we had to do. Making arrangements to go home was in itself a relief. The timing of every occurrence in Houston was perfect. We prayed Spirit would meet us at the point of our action and it did, time and time again. We asked and prayed fervently that Spirit would fill in the gaps when we didn’t know what the next step would be, and it did repeatedly.

Taking Comfort in the Moment

If I had been more present with Kenny I would have listened to him talk about how he felt about not making it. I would have opened my mind and heart to hear him and hold him while he talked. I would have remembered when my father died, I did the same thing. He said, “Carol, it won’t be long now.” My answer was, “Oh Daddy, you seem to be getting better, aren’t you?” He shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows in an expression of doubt and passed away three days later. So while memories of Houston flood up during this one year anniversary since we embarked on that never-to-be-forgotten journey, I’m here to suggest you come present with your loved ones and talk about the inevitable–one of you will leave this world before the other and it will be impactful and profound–and oh so worth sharing about from the sincerity and tenderness of the spiritual heart. In another article I’ll talk about Kenny’s plane ride back home, and in another I’ll talk about why I was in denial–such a strange set of responses, but completely understandable. Next time.

Please feel free to respond to this blog either in the comment field or by email directly to me at carol.jones43@yahoo.com. And if you want to receive notice of the next blog entry, click on the appropriate box below. God bless you and may you embrace each experience as an opportunity to love and forgive and learn and come present.

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Finding the Inspiration to Write Again

Finding the inspiration to write this post has been difficult. I treasure every moment of my trek to Kenny’s family to steep myself in our memories of him every day for 12 days straight. I felt bathed in love, compassion, understanding, and peace throughout the days, yet my writing feels stilted and not very forthcoming. But today I received a call from Janet. Janet brought her husband John to the Baja Nutri Care Gerson clinic last November while Kenny and I were there. Dear John passed into Spirit in May. I was saddened to hear this and my heart went out to Janet. She had been reading the blog and commenting on it, but today I heard from her by phone for the first time. I heard her say the words I have said to so many. I heard myself try to comfort her, but all I could really do was understand. Even though we welcome friends and family sharing with us, no matter what profound, or caring things anyone says to us, there is still the vacuum, the broken heart, the void, the missing our dearest, closest friend in the world. The last person we said good night to and the first person we greeted in the morning. The one whose warmth kept our feet toasty at night, whom we knew was there throughout the night even if we weren’t touching. I want to tell you about my journey to honor Kenny because I knew it to be a deep and profound homage to a man who was loved by so many family and friends. Let me remind you, I’m still reading letters dating back to the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s and culling old bank documents, the sale of a house, and medical records, selecting which of hundreds of photographs taken through the decades to keep and which to toss. I’m being very selective, only keeping the photos without the old girlfriends. Oh, make no mistake, I had stored my own share of photos with boyfriends and “old” husbands, so I see no fault here, just noticing how my mind works.

We all come to each decade and each relationship with patterns and habits and “baggage” from the past that weighs us down a bit. And we all hope and pray we can either hide it or dissolve it instantly, but alas, it raises its head regularly and most especially with our closest loved ones. That’s the nature of how we learn in this life, on this planet, with the agreements we made about what we wanted to learn in this lifetime. Kenny had his share and we all knew it, yet his “True Self,” beckoned us to love him for all the sweetness, and kindness, the generosity of heart, the sense of humor, the deep blue eyes and forever smile, the constant forgiveness, the always making things better side of him, and most importantly, what we all are heir to, and that is to be loved just the way we are with all our foibles and shortcomings, all our strengths and all our beingness. How many people do we know who have died and were given three memorials? Whose family traveled across country and up and down the east coast to be with each other as they honored their fallen brother/husband? If there was any part of him that didn’t know his true worth in life on this planet, his Soul is getting to experience it now. Oh and I can attest that in his last months, weeks, and days, he caught many glimpses of the brilliance of his own Soul until he was living in that awareness consciously and daily. The shortcomings melted away, the second guessing, the hiding–they all took a back seat to what he called “A walk in the park.”

I think I’m ready now to account for those incredible two weeks with the family. See the next post.

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Baja Nutri Care Clinic

I first went to BNC in July of 2009. I was there for three weeks with my sweet, loving wife, Carol. The clinic staff were very caring people, and did a great job of taking care of all our needs.

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Food

Having been on the infamous Gerson Therapy (GT) in some form since mid-July, which is composed of all-organic vegetables and fruits, mostly in the form of fresh pressed juices. I while on the full GT, I was consuming about 20 pounds of veggies and fruits a day.

While full GT calls for 13 juices a day, now my therapy calls for only 7 juices a day: 2 carrot, 3 apple-carrot, and 2 green juices.

While full GT calls for both raw and cooked food in the lunch and dinner, now I am only eating cooked food at both lunch and dinner, due to my duodenal ulcer. We were afraid that raw food would irritate it too much.

Because the workload is large with GT, we hired Ana Maria Peña to do the juicing, prepare lunch & dinner, and other household work, and she has been doing excellent work.

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Detoxing

Each day, I do two coffee enemas, 6:00 am and 6:00 pm. This detoxified my liver and keeps it functioning. Yesterday morning, I had a blood draw and got the report yesterday afternoon. It showed my liver and kidneys functioning normally. Without the enemas, which are central to the Gerson therapy, my liver couldn’t survive the flood of toxins the melanoma is pouring into my bloodstream.

I get so much pleasure and overall body relief from the enemas, that I look forward to each one with delightful anticipation. It’s one if my favorite parts of the day.

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