by Chandra L. Mattingly
reprint permission Venture Inward Magazine
When my doctor called with the unwelcome news that my long-overdue mammogram indicated breast cancer, I was temporarily stunned.
The mass in my left breast had grown rapidly, but just two weeks earlier the same doctor had told me he thought it was the fibrocystic disease I’d had for years. Now he was telling me I needed to choose a surgeon by the next day.
My heart raced as I hung up the phone. Cancer. Probably in my lymph nodes as well. Why had I put off having a mammogram for so long? How was I going to tell my family and friends? Lacing my fingers together, I leaned back in my desk chair to meditate and pray. A great calm washed over me, and I knew whatever happened, I was in God’s hands.
At least once before, I had been blessed with this calm, this trust, when, after a bee sting, I’d had severe abdominal cramps. From the first major distress, through the ride in the ambulance to the hospital, I had felt God’s presence. Whether I lived or died, I could trust in Him. I just wished this had waited until after the dishes were washed!
Now I phoned my husband and arranged to meet after work. Telling someone you love that you have cancer is most difficult, and I was to repeat this with family and friends over the next two weeks.
As a newspaper reporter in a small community, however, I could tell more casual acquaintances all at once: I wrote an editorial column letting my readers know what I faced, and thanking them for their love and support through the years. Many responded with calls and cards offering even more love and support, as well as prayers.
Meanwhile, with a little help from a cousin, a retired physician, I chose a surgeon that first night. I met with him the following week and had surgery two weeks later, August 30, 2007.
By then I had been reassured by a psychic friend that I would conquer the cancer and it would not recur. But she urged me to release the anger I felt for a family member, indicating this had contributed to the disease. As it turned out, this relative would support me in many ways as cancer treatments sapped my strength. Sometime the following summer, I realized my anger had vanished.
I also had contacted and had a reading from a psychic, whose readings had helped me through several physical difficulties, using Edgar Cayce’s remedies. What came through him had guided me to greater spiritual understanding, often in phrasing reminiscent of Cayce’s readings. This source now told me to continue prayer and meditation, adding visualization, in the days before surgery.
I also was to become almost fanatical about consuming the deep leafy greens “that the body may draw from these the elements necessary to direct the creative forces, the vitamin forces, the mineral forces to their proper distribution throughout the system.”
Like Cayce, this source treated the spiritual right along with the physical: “Then balance, fresh air, breathing, conscious giving of the fruits of the spirit, that of poultry, no fried foods ever. … The folic acid itself, plenty of water to keep the system flushed and cleansed, that of the castor oil packs on a regular basis, and most importantly, the giving and receiving of love and affection to God’s children. For that is the creative portion here, as ever with this entity, that must be enhanced to its highest degree.”
What an assignment! But I had been using castor oil packs for years, and was familiar with the fruits of the spirit (Gal. 5, 22-23) thanks to a fellow Search for God study group member.
Since my first reading from this source in 2001, I not only had improved my diet, but had turned to massage and chiropractic care, as both these readings and Cayce suggested. I also was taking small amounts of Atomic Iodine as these readings instructed. My heavy, nearly-constant menstrual cycles had become lighter almost normal – and the arthritis in my knees, neck, and back less painful. Eventually, I had purchased a Radiac® on the readings’ advice and begun using it in cycles with a gold solution.
And I had become more consistent in meditation, especially after restarting a study group with the help of a friend from a previous study group. Even so, finding time to meditate every single day was a struggle. Now, with my very life at stake, I made time to meditate daily, sometimes several times daily. Any time I began to feel anxious, turning within truly was “Thy rod and Thy staff ” that comforted me.
In these days before the surgery, I visualized white light entering and flowing through my body, sweeping out any darkness. As I did so, I was surrounded by friends and family from the other side. I didn’t see them, but had a strong sense of their personality and presence. Most prominent among them were my niece Geri Lynn, who had succumbed to complications of leukemia just 14 months earlier, and my father-in-law John, who had passed over about 10 years before. These two assured me they would be with me during the surgery itself.
When I passed this information on to my surgeon, he laughed and said he would accept all the help offered. Then he promised to tell me his experiences, once we got past the surgery.
I shut other thoughts of surgery out of my mind in the days beforehand. It would go well and I would heal. There was no reason to live through the surgery twice, once in thought and once in reality. Whenever worrisome thoughts tried to surface, I told myself, “I’m not going there,” and didn’t. I had lived too many experiences twice in the past!
When the day came and the surgical nurse checked me in, I told her about the spirit entities. And she told me she had gone through cancer and a mastectomy 10 years before, and was fine. She would be praying for me, she said.
The surgery went quickly, and I found myself awake again with no memory of visiting with John or Geri Lynn. I was a bit disappointed. The tumor the surgeon had removed was a large one, and aggressive by all accounts. But he had gotten it all, with clean margins, as well as lymph nodes that appeared affected. Radiation, he told me, would take care of any additional cancer that might be lingering in the area.
Home the day after surgery, I meditated twice a day, often falling asleep during the process. This was normal, according to both Cayce’s readings and those from my source. In reading 1152-13, an older woman said she always fell asleep when trying to meditate.
“This, as may be found, is the surer, safer, saner way of meditation. For, when the mind is absent from the body it is present with thy Lord, thy purposes, thy hopes,” the sleeping Cayce replied.
When awake, I concentrated on my health, eating salads with lunch and supper, drinking lots of water, and using castor oil packs each evening to help my body remove any toxins left from surgery and accompanying medications. There was pain, but it was tolerable.
Three weeks later I met with my oncologist for the first time, and began a roller coaster ride of tests to ensure the cancer had not spread beyond the underarm lymph nodes. Through it all – CT scan, MRI, ultrasounds – I continued to visualize the white light in and through me, refusing to be afraid, staying steadfast in faith with one exception: waiting in my oncologist’s office for the results of the bone scan. Somehow I couldn’t settle myself to meditate just then, so I prayed. The scan was clean.
The MRI showed a possible minuscule spot in the other breast, not confirmed by ultrasound or mammogram; and a pelvic ultrasound showed some cervical cysts that should be checked out later. Neither was of current concern to my doctor or me, and tests a year later would show nothing amiss in either area.
Now, my immediate concern was chemotherapy.
But as I searched the Cayce readings on breast cancer, I realized chemotherapy was not used in his day. His readings had advised most women with breast cancer or incipient breast cancer to useanimated ash with the ultraviolet ray, as well as massage with specific formulas around the affected area. With my cancer surgically removed, neither treatment “felt” right for me.
Cayce also had recommended castor oil packs, use of the Radiac®, an easily digested alkaline diet, drinking lots of water, and holding a purposeful attitude. I knew the packs would help the kidneys, colon, and liver deal with the byproducts of chemotherapy and later radiation, and the Radiac® would balance the electrical forces of my body. Olive oil following the packs would nourish the colon, according to Cayce, and I added Epsom salt baths periodically to help cleanse my system.
I continued Bible study, focused on being kind and gentle, and kept prayer in my heart. At work at the newspaper, I shared some of what I was learning with my readers through my regular columns.
In meditation, I centered on an affirmation offered in my readings: There is being built in me that Christ Consciousness sufficient to meet the needs of my mind, my body, and my soul each day. This affirmation echoes one given by Cayce in reading 281-7 for the Glad Helpers healing prayer group.
Meanwhile, my surgeon implanted a port to be used for chemotherapy, to spare my veins.
When I again turned to psychic readings for guidance, the action of the Radiac® was described a little differently. Daily use of the Radiac® was to be accompanied by studying both Cayce’s readings and the readings I’d had from this source, and by the imaginative process and entering into the silence.
“That which is visualized is imprinted in flesh,” when using the Radiac®, this reading said, and suggested I visualize the Christ as a pattern for my body, mind, and spirit. “Restore the entire pattern by the mind imaging or imagining how the body should be. … Raise the image of Jesus as the perfect body,” it said. The soul will then act upon that image or symbol of Jesus and restore the body to that Christ pattern that is stored in the pineal.
Use of the castor oil packs and Radiac® were to be at opposite ends of each day, but were to be discontinued should I not be able to control nausea arising from the chemotherapy. Apparently I applied the mental forces and visualization correctly, or perhaps it was the lakes of water I drank, for I had no nausea.
Daily I tried to brighten others’ lives, to “laugh often, love often, consciously choose kindness and gentleness,” as directed by one of my readings. Especially at the oncologist’s office, I shared concern and advice, jokes, and occasionally a newspaper.
My appetite did suffer, but knowing my body needed nourishment, I made myself eat. Dried fruit and almonds provided a quick picker-upper, and I learned eating made me feel better, even when I had not felt hungry. I kept water, prunes or figs, and almonds by my bed and in the car.
A cousin who’d had chemo a year before warned me that I would be wiped out three or four days after a chemotherapy infusion. For me, those days were the fourth and fifth following chemo. Fortunately, they always fell on a weekend, and I was able to stay home and recoup, thanks to friends and family. These folks pitched in to shop for groceries, fix meals, and even care for my horses and hens.
The doctors advised against using mouthwash or products containing alcohol, but in addition to brushing and flossing, I used Ioxan/Ipsab on my gums and around my teeth daily. Unlike the cousin who went through chemo a year earlier, I had no dental problems afterward. I also prepared a Cayce massage oil formula and used the mixture of peanut oil, olive oil, and lanolinalmost daily.
The first round of chemotherapy, one infusion every two weeks for four treatments, went well. But after the first infusion of the second type of chemo, I had three days of bone and joint pain. This was the only serious side effect I experienced throughout chemo. Tylenol countered the immediate pain, and increased visualization prevented its recurrence following the next three treatments, also spaced two weeks apart. I “locked” light into my bones and joints before and after each treatment.
A reading said the chemicals tended the body towards a rather acidic environment, which I needed to counter by consuming more alkaline foods and an alkalizer every few days. I was told to use test strips (Litmus paper) to check my acid/alkaline balance, yet keep the body slightly acidic during these treatments.
The experience left me with greater empathy for folks with pain from bone cancer and joint diseases. Less serious side effects included numb toes and fingertips (especially when I strayed off the Cayce diet), hair loss, and weak nails.
Radiation was the next step, and for this the readings advised keeping the body slightly alkaline. To help, I could take an eighth of a teaspoon of baking soda in a full glass of water every three or four days. I was told to continue the packs and Radiac®, and to add more blood-building foods, including beef juice. That could be prepared in a glass jar, as Cayce had given, or in Patapar (parchment) paper.
Liver and kidneys also were recommended, cooked in their own juices, and soup. I was to tear chicken for the soup from the bones myself, blessing it as I did so, and add the healthier vegetables: carrots, celery, onions, etc.
I also should dip multi-grain bread into the soup and savor both. And I was to continue the deep greens.
Eating became, at times, a sacrament. Not only could I bless the food and its purpose within my body, God’s temple, but I blessed those who had a part in providing this food. Sometimes that was quite a list, from seed growers to farmers to truckers to grocery staff, and then some!
Meanwhile, the radiation oncologist suggested I use aloe on the area being treated. Up to this point, I had used the Cayce scar massage on the surgical site, but now I turned to the houseplants I’d grown for years. I thanked the aloe plant each time I broke off a leaf and slathered my skin with its juice.
While undergoing the actual radiation, I visualized God’s light working within me, just as I’d seen the chemicals of chemotherapy entering my body as light. The aloe and visualization worked so well, that in the third week of radiation, my radiation oncologist double checked that my dosage was correct!
But my skin did not stay untouched.
By the fifth, and last, week of daily radiation, it had reddened. Two days after the final treatment, it was painfully burned, despite the aloe. I continued aloe until the skin had finished peeling, then I resumed use of the Cayce scar formula, now on a larger area of radiated chest and neck. Later, intuition guided me to add cocoa butter as well, and the combination controlled the itching, softened the skin, and I believe minimized the effects of the radiation on my skin.
Months later, I continue regular, though not daily, use of castor oil packs and the Radiac®; daily meditation and prayer; monthly massage and chiropractic care; and a diet including citrus, leafy dark greens, and whole grains.
I’ve added pomegranate juice daily for its heart-healthy and anti-cancer benefits. I also try to get in at least a half hour walk daily in addition to the exercise I get feeding my horses each day.
In addition to prescription drug Tamoxifen, which I take daily, my oncologist now has me getting monthly injections of goserelin, which shuts down the ovaries, and zoledronic acid infusions every six months. While I know my cancer won’t come back regardless, studies have shown these chemicals reduce recurrences in premenopausal women whose cancers were endocrine-positive.
In some ways I still struggle to treat my body as a temple of God, but I’m doing better, step by step, as Cayce would say. And I’m making a greater effort to share not only God’s love but also the lessons I’m learning with those I encounter. Some of that sharing comes through writing articles such as this, as my soul has encouraged me to do through dreams and visions. My favorite came during meditation about a year after my cancer diagnosis:
In front of me was a round, clay planter filled with various types of cactus, plants I knew were thirsty. I stretched out my right hand, palm open, toward them, to water them. Pure, clear, refreshing water ran from my wrist area, cool over my palm and fingers, and onto the plants and small rocks surrounding them.
I can still “feel” that sensation of running water on my right (write) hand.
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