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One morning in 1976, when I was 38 years old, I was horrified to find a lump in my right breast. It hit me like a thunderbolt out of the blue. But, although I was in a total state of panic, I did my best to continue attending to my daily duties of mother and wife.
Weeks passed. Nearly every night I woke up at 4:00 a.m. in a cold sweat. I began to lose weight at the rate of 1 kg (2.2 pounds) a week. And, even though I tried to increase my food-intake, I lost 9 kg (20 pounds) in a few weeks.
Finally, I pulled myself together and decided to go see a gynecologist. But at the front-door of the doctor's office I was in such a state of panic, that I didn’t even enter the clinic. Instead, I went back home in a troubled state of mind.
Until that time, I had not mentioned anything to my husband or family in regard to, what I assumed to be, breast cancer. This happens to be my way of facing any problems I might have. I always try to deal with them by myself first, and only when I understand fairly well the measures that have to be taken, do I speak to others about it.
On the way home, I pondered my options. The road to a doctor seemed to me one that was no longer passable. In my younger years, a wise teacher had told me that when one does not know what to do, one should initially consider the things one does NOT want to do. That way, the list of options becomes smaller and the decision easier.
What I did NOT want was immediately clear to me. I did not want to see myself cut up and I did not look forward to months, or even years, of panic within my family. I concluded that I had no other choice but to endure the situation as it presented itself. When my time was up, then it was up, and everything else was out of my hands.
From that moment on, I noticed that almost nothing could derail my equanimity or ruffle my feathers. We have three sons who were, at that time, at an awkward age, and still going to school; there was no lack of work for me, but rather a lot of stress and other commotions.
Yet, my anxieties had disappeared. I had resigned myself to the realization that every week could be my last, especially when I noticed that I had very little strength left, and that I needed a lot of sleep. During the daytime, I could be up and about for only 2 hours, before I felt so weak that I practically fell over right where I stood or sat.
At night, I started to sweat so intensely, that I had to change my nightgown at least once. I accepted this symptom with the attitude, that warm sweat was better than cold sweat. After a few weeks, I started to cough up mucus and blood in the mornings. Aside from that, I had no pain at all. As I had just about resigned myself to the fact that I was dying, I was quietly enduring these symptoms all by myself. I had also, by then, become so convinced I was suffering from lung cancer that the lump in my breast had decreased in significance.
During those weeks it had become clear to me that, had I told any of my family members about my disease, it would have been a recipe for disaster for my own state of mind. Huge arguments regarding the pros and cons of medical treatments would have been inevitable. I knew only too well that I was simply not strong enough to cope with all the quarreling that would occur. Even though my body-weight remained very low, I was feeling quite happy that it had remained stable at that level.
I only discovered that I also had colon cancer, when my stool became abnormal; little by little, it acquired a pencil-thin shape, and finally ceased altogether. At first, I overcame that particular difficulty with commercially available laxatives, until I accidentally found Maria Treben's book "Health through God's Pharmacy" and got used to drinking the various kinds of tea recommended in it. They stimulated my bowels in a basically comfortable way and, over time, I coped quite well.
My greatest time of panic occurred in the spring of 1976. I still remember thinking then, that I would never see the tender green of trees again. But summer came, and then fall, and winter passed, and the following spring still saw my shadow. I am utterly convinced that my relative healing - the colon activity that had to be stimulated over the course of several years - was a miracle.
Over the course of those several years, I often wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with the information out there, regarding cancer. I saw my relatives, acquaintances and neighbors fall ill with cancer and allow themselves to be treated medically with the usual drugs and operations. Most of them died a year or so later. How and why, I asked myself, have I been able to survive this disease - all alone, and without any therapy?
Because I never again went for a medical examination, I did not know whether I had overcome the disease, but it didn’t really matter to me. I lived without complaints. Now and then, I developed a guilty conscience, because I never went for the cancer tests that were recommended to me and would have been paid for by the Health Insurance.
Somehow, it was entirely inconceivable to me that there was a chance of my cancers escalating again, and that I might not survive the second time around. For years, I kept a bottle of sleeping pills in the darkest corner of my kitchen cabinet - just in case. I did not have to worry about a family-member possibly finding this package. Who, among three sons and a husband, would be interested in such a location?
The unanswered question for me over the course of 17 years was: why had I been able to survive these cancers without any medical treatment? The moment of truth came late in 1993, when I visited a bookstore and found a modest article about Dr. Hamer's "German New Medicine". I had gone there, because I was concerned about my husband, who had just got a diagnosis of lung cancer and renal carcinoma of his second kidney (the first having been removed in 1991). I thought that there must be information somewhere regarding self-help, even with such a ”disease“ as this.
When I read the Hamer article, my knees began to shake. I finally understood that everything in my case had proceeded according to lawful biological programming. Through my own conclusions - after long and hard thought-processes - I had somehow managed to find a conflict resolution, at least for the most serious conflicts.
Now I could finally explain to my husband what had happened to me so many years ago. I was certain that the resolution of his conflicts would be child’s play and that he would confidently refuse any and all recommended conventional medical treatments. Unfortunately, I was terribly wrong. He was not able to acknowledge the "German New Medicine"-way-of thinking, nor could he make himself believe that I had ever had cancer, in the first place.
My husband's case is explained in detail in Dr. Hamer's book, "Celler Dokumentation". With Dr. Hamer's help we still had the benefit of 18 months of excellent quality of life together. I was able to help my husband overcome his fears and panic only once, however, and never again – especially when relapses occurred, or possibly due to the damage done by chemotherapy. I have to assume that my husband died, because he was never able to completely overcome his deepest fears concerning this disease.
Just how much I had become involved with what was happening to my husband became abundantly clear only when, in November 1995, I had an actual CT brain-scan, evaluated by Dr. Hamer. He first accurately described my above-mentioned cancer events, and then found them to have, once again, become mildly active.
I'd like to finish by mentioning a curious symptom I had for some time, following the death of my husband. Every night, at 9 p.m., I experienced a rheumatic pain under the left shoulder blade. During the day everything was normal, and there was nothing to report. Knowing GNM, it did not take much time for me to come to grips with the cause. For 20 years, my husband and I had been in a dance-club, and it would have been that exact spot, under the left shoulder-blade, where his right hand would have to be placed, in order to achieve a reasonably good posture for both partners.
I was suffering a profound separation conflict, with brutal aspects, that affected the periosteum at that particular place. The time when we had danced was always in the evening, from 21:15 to 22:45. Slowly, I learned to deal with this separation and the realization that it was as a sign of healing that the pain had set in.
And that's the story of my experience with "German New Medicine" -- which I went through by myself, when GNM did not even exist officially yet.
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