From: Andrew Johnson
Date: 2013-08-19 11:44:01
Attachments : Pasted below! Day #11 at Marinus—Serendipity All Over AgainMy day began with heat therapy at 7:00 am, first on the table. Unless something else happens, I intend to devote tomorrow’s blog to a full discussion of heat therapy, so don’t miss that one. I’m still digging for a few facts I need to tell the whole story as it should be told, but I know you’ll all be as blown away by it as I am.Back to today. Heat therapy ends, eat breakfast, then back for the rounds of other treatments and shots that comprise every day here except Sunday. Everything was finished by 3:00 pm, so Vivienne and I decided to make another excursion into Brannenburg, not unlike what we did Sunday, though we didn’t have to walk into town then. Dr. Weber was going that way and offered us a lift in his five-year-old BMW that looks exactly like it did when it rolled off the showroom floor. Apparently he’s a bit of a neatnik, too. (This ride was deeply appreciated because the chemo still had me by the throat on Sunday, and the long walk both ways would have been a bit much for me.)One thing we discovered going up the mountain to Wendelstein is that a lot of places around here don’t take credit cards of any kind, much less U.S. credit cards. We had to pay cash for everything yesterday and came home with 20 euros to our name, so today was go-to-the-bank day to find an ATM and replenish our money supply. Oh, and it just so happened the bank we had no choice but to go to was almost directly across the street from the wonderful ice cream (gelato) shop we visited on Sunday. Double chocolate for Vivi, chocolate and hazelnut for me.After the bank and ice cream came the other main purpose for our trek: the train station. We wanted to try to figure out how to get from Brannenburg to Chiemsee Castle, which is one built by Mad Ludwig of Bavaria. Several years ago I visited and toured his most famous castle, Neuschwanstein, which left me awestruck, so Chiemsee is on the “must do” bucket list while we’re here. (If you don’t know what those places are, check them out on Google Images.) We want to try to go to it this weekend when we have our one day off, and that trip starts at the train station. The details of the trip will be recounted when we take it, IF we take it, but all signs are favorable. Most patients who come here will make the trip in one way or another. Since we don’t have a car and nobody we know is planning an excursion, we’ll have to make our way on our own. Not a problem. Everyone says it’s tedious but doable, a matter of coordinating train changes, which I’m sure we can do.Now comes the good part. Coming away from the train station, walking along an unfamiliar street we’d never been on before, we rounded a corner and saw something painted on a wall. Keep in mind that this is Germany, where billboards along the roads are not allowed, much less graffiti. So it was quite a surprise to us to stumble upon what I strongly suspect is the ONLY graffiti allowed to stay on a wall in Brannenburg, if only long enough for us to happen by to see it.It was as if it were put there specifically for us. Vivi took one look and said, “It’s meant for you. Go stand beside it and I’ll take a photo. You can put it in your blog.”Normally, I don’t think the blog is the place for personal photos, but in this case I’m making an exception. Take a look and you’ll see what I mean.Lloyd PyeKlinik MarinusBrannenburg, GermanyAugust 15, 2013 Day #12 at Marinus—Explaining Why Hyperthermia Works!The best alternative cancer clinics kill cancer with heat rather than chemo, radiation, or surgery. They simply cook it to death and drive it out of the body. Those of us undergoing it (as you see me doing in the attached photo) refer to it as “melting” our various cancers away. I know, it sounds crazy simple, but it works! Let me explain a bit of the background behind why and how it works.In 1868, 145 years ago, Dr. Peter Busch of Philadelphia had a cancer patient he was trying to help. She was a 43-year-old woman with a massive sarcoma on her face. Not much could be done for such patients in 1868, but then she suffered a strep infection that drove her body temperature up to 105 degrees, where it stayed for several days before reducing.Not long after she recovered from the strep infection, they both discovered that her sarcoma was healing! It seemed impossible, but it was, with fresh, clear skin coming back in its place! This led Dr. Busch to surmise that her sustained high fever had produced a devastating impact on her cancer, so he determined to try to find and develop a useful form of heat therapy against cancer.Now due to Dr. Busch’s early efforts, Germany leads the world in heat-based cancer therapy, while the U.S. cancer machine leads the world in trying to keep this highly successful treatment out of the limelight and out of the U.S. entirely because it IS NOT GOOD FOR BUSINESS. But it’s very damned good for patients, as I and tens of thousands of others have found out over the past few decades.Did you know several celebrities have had this therapy? I won’t mention names, but if you search around you can find them. One name I will mention because it’s so important is President Ronald Reagan. This was highly suppressed, of course, because it would so badly have embarrassed the American cancer machine, but President Reagan had his cancer melted away here in Germany. He lived an additional 19 years and did not die of cancer. He beat it to a standstill, and he beat it here.Despite how successful heat therapy is in Germany and Mexico and other countries where it is freely employed, its use is not allowed in the U.S. except under strict conditions. First, you can’t get it until you are already being treated conventionally by chemotherapy and radiation. If you get well using heat therapy, the mainstream has to be able to insist that the chemo/radiation did it, not the heat. Unfortunately, you won’t be using the best heat source available. In the U.S. the only approved heat vectors are ultrasonic machines and microwave machines. Both are somewhat adequate but definitely inferior to those driven by radio waves, which is the one in use here at Klinik Marinus. Again, U.S. cancer machine toadies have to be extremely careful regarding actual useful therapies because they would be so devastatingly bad for business. How bad? Worldwide, about 7 million people die of cancer each year. 7 million!!! In the U.S. alone, about 500,000 people die of cancer every year. Half a million!!! Think about that. 1,370 every day. One every minute. Several have and will die of cancer while you read this blog entry. Yikes!!!!Despite how many people in the U.S. die from cancer yearly, vastly more of us make very good livings—often extravagant livings—by making certain the yearly crop of 500,000 souls is harvested. I realize how horrible it is to state this so bluntly, but it IS the truth. As I said in an earlier post, money talks, bulls**it walks, and small change rides the bus. Outside of Wall Street, which operates in a separate universe of venality, nowhere else is this so blindingly and shamefully clear. Another interesting tidbit is that the machine used here at Klinik Marinus is made by a company in Salt Lake City, Utah. They supposedly keep records of where their machines are sold, so they can account for all of them. None are supposed to be in the U.S., flatly not allowed, illegal. Yet I’m told there are persistent rumors that three top cancer treatment facilities in the U.S., the absolute top three (look them up if you need to) have “hidden” machines tucked away on their premises for the exclusive use of the most senior members of those organizations and their immediate families.When I heard this I could not help but compare the fact that certain people in the U.S. government will be saved in the event of any looming global catastrophe that leaves officials enough time to get themselves and/or their families into the underground bunkers outfitted to let them survive no matter what kind of wipe-out ensues. How do you get on THAT list? Well, the same question applies to the hyperthermia machines supposedly hidden away at the top U.S. cancer facilities.The good news is that nobody has to be on a “privileged” list to be able to use these machines. You just have to make certain you don’t fall for the propaganda spun out by the U.S. cancer machine. And please don’t think I’m accusing every oncologist in American of being venal and heartless beyond imagining. That is flatly not true. What those poor people are is abysmally IGNORANT of what is going on in the rest of the world. They are brainwashed by propaganda and forced to drink Kool-Aid if they have any intention of keeping their jobs and providing for their families. Big Pharma and Big Cancer are the soulless machines that will keep the Raunchy Horror Tumor Show rolling ahead to a diagnosis near you……Lloyd PyeKlinik MarinusBrannenburg, GermanyAugust 16, 2013 Day #13 at Marinus—How/Why Did I Get Cancer?That question is asked in muted, dumbfounded tones by everyone who knows me well. I’m the least likely victim of this disease you could ever meet, so…..what the heck happened??? Why me??? A lot of what patients do here at Klinik Marinus is try to figure that out. In every case there are options, and each person comes to believe one or the other choice is the most likely generator of their cancer.STRESS is the first thing everyone looks at. What are the major stressful events in your life in the past three or four or five years? Cancer normally needs that long, or more, to go from one bad cell, to two, to four, to eight, to sixteen, etc. In my case it took at least a couple of years to get to the size of a golf ball. After that, it took as little as four- to six-months to become the size of a softball. Why? Aggressive B-cell lymphoma doubles in size every 30 to 60 days. It is one of the fastest growing of all cancers. Most others grow slowly and methodically, and they have the deadly tendency to spread to other places in a body before being discovered. Mine seems not to have spread before I caught it, so I am extremely lucky in that regard. However, that jury will remain out for months and years to come.So what have been the major stressors in my life? Two words: Starchild Skull. Period. Nothing else comes close. I’ve known since late in 1999 that it wasn’t human, that it was almost certainly the skull of a grey alien, or something similar. Definitely NOT human. I had, and still have, NO doubt about that as its final result. I KNEW IT, which meant I was the caretaker of one of the greatest relics in human history, and that when it was finally accepted as what it actually, truly is, that would be a turning point on a scale with Galileo realizing the Earth was not the center of the universe, or when the Wright Brothers took us all into the skies and reduced our planet to a manageable size. Imagine if YOU carried that kind of responsibility for 14 years. If YOU absolutely knew you were right and that virtually all of mainstream science and government were distorting reality at abominable levels. Yet you can do NOTHING about it. You are all but helpless as you struggle to find any way to make this historic event a reality. You try and try and try again, but NOTHING works. You can’t break through, you can’t find allies who can make a real difference. Supporters abound, fans of Alternative Knowledge are invariably caring and encouraging, but making REAL headway never materializes. The U.S. Cavalry never rides over the horizon to your rescue. You stand on the battlefield with your skull in one hand and ineffective bravado in the other. Imagine this as YOUR daily reality.The enormous size of the job and its endless complexities defeated me, plain and simple. In fact, in late 2002 I was so devoid of hope and money that I came within a whisker of being forced to give it up entirely. Then a stranger to me saved the project with an infusion of capital that renewed my hope and allowed me to fight on. Yet even in those darkest days, and through all of the dark ones before and since, I never stopped looking for a way out of the padded cell my opponents had consigned me to, always believing I would find a way to finally break free and turn the tables on those who had me in seemingly permanent checkmate. So when it comes to STRESS, I don’t think that’s what did this to me. I think I’ve learned how to handle high-octane stress at least adequately, if not always realistically. I give STRESS a pass as the reason for my cancer.Next is TOXINS. What kind of toxins do I live with? What have I been exposed to in the past three or four or five years that might have triggered cancer? Well, here we have a potential winner. I happen to live on the so-called “panhandle” of Florida, which is the western-extending “arm” of the state. I live in a small village between Destin and Panama City, and the Gulf of Mexico is about 300 yards from the balcony of my apartment. I can easily see the water when I look toward it.Now let’s cast our minds back to April, 2010, when the Deepwater Horizon oil rig blew out in the Gulf of Mexico and made British Petroleum (BP) the most hated company in America, maybe to this day. As many of you may remember, BP extensively sprayed a highly toxic carcinogen called “Corexit” to disperse the crude oil on the surface and sink it to the bottom of the Gulf, thereby destroying that entire ecosystem so the world wouldn’t be able to see just how much oil they spilled into the Gulf.I was directly in the line of Corexit fire. Many of the beach cleanup teams in my area staged its crews near where I live. I breathed a whole heck of a lot of that crud, as did everyone around me. And the timeline is good for my cancer to have kicked off around then, 3.5 years. However, I also reject this as the reason because I don’t know anyone else where I live who has come down with cancer like mine, or even any other cancer. I’m not saying cancers haven’t, or won’t, develop as a result of BP’s atrocities, or that I won’t turn out to be a stalking horse for many thousands of others like me during the next decade or two. Anything like that seems possible considering how ghastly Corexit can be. However, when I look in my heart-of-hearts I’d need to see at least several more like me before I accept Corexit as the actual cause of my cancer. I feel sure I have an even better candidate.MY MOUTH. I realize you must be thinking this is some kind of trick, that my mouth can’t possibly be the real answer. Or maybe it’s a very poor joke alluding to the hellacious flack Michael Douglas caught when he suggested one way he might have contracted throat cancer. Suffice to say THAT is not the trouble my mouth got me into. No! My mouth problem began almost exactly three years ago, very close to the timeframe for when my cancer would have kicked off in my abdomen.Three years ago I ate a hamburger at a Beef O’Brady’s. In that burger was a tiny wedge-shaped chip of bone, no bigger than a small match-head. I chomped down on it and the wedge jammed between two of my upper left molars. One cracked, but I didn’t know it. I knew it hurt, but I didn’t know it was cracked. A few days later I was in England embarking on a month-long lecture tour, when I noticed my left cheek looked puffy. A few days later it had chimpmunked. I went to a London dentist for X-rays. Major infection in the tooth, so bad that it had erupted at the top of the tooth, into the spongy bone that comprises my maxilla. It looked like a tiny mushroom cloud, which, as things have turned out, it might as well have been. It was potentially just as deadly.Nothing could be done about it with that much infection inside it, so I was given strong antibiotics to clear it up, and instructions to have it root-canaled when I returned home. Which I did. But it needed 18 months to “settle down” and not bother me when I hit it with hot or cold food or liquids. Finally, though, the battle seemed over and I forgot about it. Case closed? Uhhhhh, not quite.It turns out that root canals are one of the topmost trigger-points of a wide variety of not just cancers but all kinds of other bodily diseases. Their range is staggering! Shocking! I’m still flabbergasted by what I’ve recently learned about this, and I know you’ll agree if you’ve managed to stay with me this far through what I know is an usually long blog entry. It is for me, too, but very worthwhile.In the early part of the 20th century a maverick dentist named Weston Price began 25 years of work on the practice of root canaling damaged teeth so they could continue to hold a place in the mouth. He tried every way he could think of to make them work as advertised, but he never succeeded. His conclusion was that bad teeth should be extracted because root canals invariably left pockets of bacteria in the spongy jawbone, bacteria that would relentlessly leach toxins into the body that the immune system would ceaselessly have to cope with, thereby reducing it to gross inefficiency. In short, Dr. Price came to believe that root canals were causing a plague of diseases among all those who had them, and needless to say, this did not win him many friends among his dental colleagues. In fact, a war erupted between them and him that he finally lost when he died in 1948. Despite being little known now, Dr. Price’s root canal research remains a landmark of careful analysis (despite what you might hear from his critics, which is precisely the case with the Starchild Skull). As with early pregnancy tests, he proved his case with rabbits. Whenever he found any patient suffering with ANY kind of serious disease—cancer, arthritis, disorders of any internal organ—he would try to convince them to let him remove any root canals if they had them. If they agreed to the extraction, he would take their tooth, or teeth, and insert them under the skins of rabbits. In short order the rabbits would come down with WHATEVER DISEASE THE PATIENT SUFFERED FROM!!!He did this hundreds of times, and in virtually all cases of those extractions the patients recovered much—if not most—of their health, whether it was from cancer, arthritis, or a wide range of other diseases. Now, I realize this sounds incredibly simplistic and impossible on its face, yet Dr. Price’s work is carried on today by the Weston Price Foundation in San Diego, California, so do check with them if you need more verification than this. I’ve been convinced by what I’ve learned about it recently, and I believe it needs wider dispersal among those as ignorant about it as I was.That said, I now intend to get rid of my root canal just as soon as I possibly can. I’m also going to replace the seven—count ‘em, seven!—amalgam fillings in my mouth. Those, too, are a recipe for disaster in the mouth of anyone over 50 or so. They wear down and pump your body full of the deadly poison mercury, which your liver has to spend more and more and more time detoxifying. If your liver can’t do its job of housecleaning your entire body, if it is continually bombarded by mercury from fillings and a constant drip, drip, drip of infectious toxins, then YOU become a shooting gallery for any kind of cancer you can imagine, in addition to a wide range of other diseases. Now that I know about this, I’m surprised I lasted this long without a major breakdown in my immune system. I’ve been living on borrowed time, as I imagine is true with many of you who have stuck with me here to the end. Now let me leave you with a real zinger. Studies have shown that women with breast cancer almost invariably get it on the side where they have either A root canal, or the MOST root canals. Almost invariably…..think about that.Lloyd PyeKlinik MarinusBrannenburg, GermanyAugust 18, 2013 Day #14 at Marinus—The Calm Before The UltrasoundI’ve now been here two weeks, with one week to go. Today was Sunday, our only “off” day in a given week. It gave me a chance to catch a few breaths before tomorrow, when I get my second ultrasound and find out whether or not I have to endure another—and final—round of “low dose” chemo. Let me say up front that I’m hoping for all I’m worth that I can avoid it. And, noooo, it’s not that I’m a big wussy, or anything like that. I can endure hard things. I went through 12 years of two-a-day football practices in the smothering heat and humidity of August in Louisiana. I can handle tough things.Tough is not my problem with chemo. If I thought it was doing me a speck of good that nothing else could possibly do, I would readily submit to it. But it’s not. The heat is what’s working for me, I’m sure of it, because the heat works for everyone else here and at alternative clinics around the globe. Granted, I had a very big, fast-growing tumor, so it had to be dealt with on its own terms. Now we’ve done that with the first round of chemo and the ongoing heat therapy. I’m sure the heat will be enough, combined, of course, with the dozen other healing modalities that we’re given here, not to mention a big dollop of the Budwig protocol dish every morning. (More about that in a later blog.)Because it was only one of three “off” days we can count on during a three-week treatment protocol, Vivienne and I took the opportunity to go to Chiemsee Castle, one of Big Three such castles of “Mad Ludwig” of Bavaria. It is fairly near to the clinic, a half-hour by car, and to check its magnificence all you need to do is check it out via Google Images. Yes, it really IS that elegant and opulent.We went with our good friends now, and table mates at meals, Michael and Susan Brownhill, who came in with us from the airport in Munich two weeks ago. They flew on the same plane from England that we took, though we didn’t know about each other until we arrived and were picked up by the van driver from the Klinik. Our first hour-long drive together from Munich to here was punctuated by long, heavy silences. Now we chat from the moment we see each other. We’ve become foxhole buddies in this particular war.Michael is here treating a severe case of bladder cancer, which is a difficult one to have. He wears a catheter all the time so that anti-cancer fluids can be easily infused into his bladder to kill his tumor, which at one point was nearly as large as mine last week (lemon-sized). Now it’s passing out of his body in chunks and pieces that are visible in the clear plastic tubing connecting his bladder to a collection bag he carries strapped to his calf. Like everyone here, he never complains about the poor hand he drew at this stage of his life. He gets on with coping as best he can, as do we all.What impresses me about Michael, and Susan, is the incredible dignity with which they bear up under this very difficult burden. Michael (whose friends around Cambridge call him “Mick”) is a no-nonsense, straightforward guy who is almost exactly my same age. We were both born in 1946. He has been battling his cancer for a few years now, refusing chemo and radiation, doing what he could on his own using natural methods. But bladder cancer is particularly resistant to “home brewing,” so he has ended up here as a place that can save him without poisoning him with chemo or radiation.All four of us greatly enjoyed our afternoon at the castle, but when we returned here a few hours later, it was clear that both Michael and I had had enough. We ate dinner downstairs, as usual, parted company for the night, and I promptly fell asleep for an hour’s nap. Now I’m up and struggling with fatigue again as I write this. I sure hope I don’t have to have any more chemo…….Lloyd PyeKlinik MarinusBrannenburg, GermanyAugust 18, 2013
