|Mr and Mrs Anstruther were at breakfast in the parlour of Westfield Hall, in the county of Essex. They were arranging plans for the day. 'George,' said Mrs Anstruther, 'I think you had better take the car to Maldon and see if you can get any ... Read more of The Rose Garden at Scary Stories.ca|| Informational|
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Category: The Analysis of Disease States: Helping the Body Recover
Source: How And When To Be Your Own Doctor
Some years back my 70 years old mother came from the family
homestead in the wilds of northern British Columbia to visit me at
the Great Oaks School. She had gotten into pathetic physical
condition. Fifteen years previously she had remarried. Tom, her new
husband, had been a gold prospector and general mountain man, a
wonderfully independent and cantankerous cuss, a great hunter and
wood chopper and all around good-natured backwoods homestead
handyman. Tom had tired of solitary log cabin life and to solve his
problem had taken on the care and feeding of a needy widow, my mom.
He began doing the cooking and menu planning. Tom, a little older
than my mother, had no sense about eating but could still shoot
game. Ever since their marriage she had been living on moose meat
stews with potatoes and gravy, white flour bread with jam, black tea
with canned milk, a ritual glass of brandy at bedtime, and almost no
fresh fruit or vegetables.
In her youth, my mother had been a concert pianist; now she had such
large arthritic knobs on all of her knuckles that her hands had
become claws. Though there was still that very same fine upright in
the cabin that I had learned to play as a child, she had long since
given up the piano. Her knees also had large arthritic knobs; this
proud woman with a straight back and long, flowing strides was bent
over, limping along with a cane. She was also 30 pounds overweight
and her blood pressure was a very dangerous 210 over 140, just
asking for a stroke.
Instead of a welcoming feast, the usual greeting offered to a loved
one who has not been seen for a few years, I immediately started her
on a juice fast. I gave her freshly prepared carrot juice (one quart
daily) mixed with wheat grass juice (three ounces daily) plus daily
colonics. She had no previous experience with these techniques but
she gamely accepted everything I threw her way because she knew I
was doing it because I loved her and wanted to see her in better
condition. She also received a daily full body massage with
particular attention to the hand and knees, stimulating the
circulation to the area and speeding the removal of wastes. Every
night her hands and knees were wrapped in warm castor oil compresses
held in place with old sheeting.
I did not use any vitamins or food supplements in her case. I did
give her flavorful herbal teas made of peppermint and chamomile
because she needed the comfort of a hot cupa; but these teas were in
no way medicinal except for her morale.
In three weeks on this program, Grannybelle, as I and my daughters
called her, had no unsightly knobs remaining on either her knuckles
or knees and she could walk and move her fingers without pain within
a normal range of movement. The big payoff for me besides seeing her
look so wonderful (20 years younger and 20 pounds lighter) was to
hear her sit down and treat us to a Beethoven recital. And her blood
pressure was 130 over 90.
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