8802RE: [anthroposophy] Medicinal Compound
- Jul 1, 2003Dear Jan,
The medicinal compound was a Victorian green ointment which she used many
purposes "most efficacious in every way", as the song goes. It smelled
coffee-like and I made the mistake of asking her what it was made from. She
exploded in anger, "No one robs my knowledge to where it may be abused! You
will be told what you need to know and no more. ... Everyone gets a
snippet." The last was said as she calmed down. Weeks later she made an
unwarranted comment about my daughter and I turned on her. I was staggered
at the fearful recoil this produced from her. Yet, from these unseemly
beginnings, a mutual respect and trust formed very quickly.
She was no anthroposophist, had not even heard of Steiner and there was
once only that she mentioned the spirit. My first wife's mother had been
having increasingly bad dizzy spells until she almost collapsed and the
doctor was called he gave three possible causes, the most unlikely being a
intermittent blood loss in the brain. As time went on she became more ashen
and grey. Within three weeks she was taken in for diagnostic tests and the
whole family knew it was serious. My wife pleaded for Heather to come and
she her. She dropped everything and came right across the country. Carrying
a brew the main ingredient of which was golden rod, "Nature's soldering
iron." She forced four or five glasses down her throat. Within minutes it
was obvious that she was incapable of keeping her eyes open. I seen and felt
this effect before. There was nothing soporific in the potion but the body
was so starved of living food that it overcame the soul to repair itself, or
that was how I rationalised it.
We went back 4 hours later. She had not looked in such radiant health in two
years. Her cheeks were glowing pink and she was walking around the ward as
nothing was wrong at all. "Now listen to me," Heather said, "You are not
cured. You've had first aid and no more. Now get yourself out of their evil
clutches and come down to The Fens for a few weeks until I sort you out."
Elaine objected that she had far too many obligations to be doing such. "If
you start submitting to radiation tests then don't come calling on me!"
Heather grabbed my wife's arm and took her to one side, "Your mother is
weak, a Pisces who want to swim both ways. I warn you now, get her out of
here. I've told you many times, hospitals exist to have power over people
not to cure them. Then want to prolong death not give life. You've got to be
her backbone." We knew very well that all others would disagree. Hospital is
the "best place" when you're ill.
She submitted to the tests which showed up an aneurism. Even though she was
over 70 the surgeon considered her general condition, especially her blood
to be so good that an operation to insert a titanium clip was the best
course. To please the rest of the family she agreed again. It was a triple
aneurism and it burst upon the insult to the brain. She only just lived,
stirring just once into consciousness before relapsing into a coma for 10
days. The surgeon called in the family to tell them to expect the worst and
in the unlikely event that she lived her left arm was almost certainly
paralysed and she may be mentally impaired. We asked him to allow Heather in
but he said it was against the hospital regulations. Upon insistence he put
it to the Director of Ethics who bent the rules for us.
I'll never forget the sight of Heather sauntering down the hospital corridor
two days later. She was carelessly chewing nuts as she meandered down as if
not a thing in the world bothered her. Tweed skirt, grey hair, tartan
woollen socks (on a warm summer's day!) and a shawl. The head nurse and the
director saw her in private first before allowing her onto the intensive
care ward. She came out shaken but unbowed after half an hour. There had
been a battle. Like an old soldier she refused to speak of it. "Let's go see
She was introduced to the ward staff and went to the bedside putting her arm
around the patient's feed line and drip to hold her head gently in the crook
of her arm, as she always did to assess a patient. Her eyes closed as she
concentrated and they fluttered behind the lids like REM. I had seen this so
many times before. As she closed the curtains round the bed she said, "Bring
your daughter in." She gently massaged the upper chest then moved her hand
down the right arm about an inch above it. Elaine's arm 'kicked' as if it
had had a small electric shock. The legs kicked more violently. The legs
kicked more violently. Then astoundingly the left arm moved. "What are
doing?" asked my daughter. "Just putting some electricity back into the
body. Anybody can do that its easy."
Elaine stirred but maybe I was mistaken. "There's no more we can do just
now. Tell the doctor I want to feed her through the nasal tube." The surgeon
still had care wanted the hospital "filth" still to be served but the
director over-ruled him again, for now at least. We shot off to collect and
found yarrow in the hospital grounds themselves. We stopped two miles down
the road. There was a reason but I don't remember. "Look allheal! That's
rare. It's the most powerful of all to stop bleeding." We gathered some up
and went on, stopping now and then for her to look around. "There must be an
old church yard somewhere. They are usually good places." So shot off to St.
Peters. Crab apple, elder, shepherd's purse, this, that and the other. We
went next door to the park looking for nettles but they'd died back. She saw
a great patch of dock leaves. "We'll take those instead. ... I've been
looking at trees, you know. ... Pick some oak leaves." The tears welled up
in my eyes. The mighty oak, defender of whole ecologies, was being called
into service. No one, surely, ever administered oak?
It all went back to the house and we put on the kettle. "Put some oak leaves
into a teapot. ... No, no not too many." My wife did not pick it up but
Heather was experimenting. Still learning. All instinct said go with it. She
let it steep for 10 mins and drank half a cup full; then the rest and
another. "Put a good handful of oak into the tea pot. It insulates the cell
nucleus from drugs. Then get out the juicer." We broke three juicers that
week. Concoctions such as I've never seen were made. Thick slimy and green.
Garlic, peppermint, sage, rosemary - just a little, dandelion, couch grass
and only Heather knows what. Within three days Elaine was sat up in bed and
lucid, fully compus mentus. The left arm was not perfect but it was usable
and could get better. The ward nurses were astounded. "I've never seen
anything like this. Can you bring her (Heather) back again?" Heather could
see the words on my lips. She whispered in my ear, "Don't boast. The spirit
doesn't like it."
The story ends unhappily. The eldest son now took objection. It was obvious
to him that his mother cannot have been so ill after all and he wanted
Heather out. After all no quack can cure anything. He went to the hospital
principal later in the week who hit the roof with the Director of Ethics.
Elaine relapsed and lost control over the most of her left side and became
feeble minded. She never left hospital and died 10 months later. Heather
never saw another patient. I never saw her again. Self-absorbed in the death
throws of my marriage I did not know she had succumbed to cancer until it
was too late. Her young niece Paula looked after her in her final days. In
great pain she refused point blank to admit a doctor even on the day she
died. "The best thing for a doctor is a gun. You can shoot him as he comes
over the bedroom door," she had once said.
Heather had a fine feel for the Ahrimanic in medicine, "the biggest Satanic
cult in the world. Sleep deprivationation, massive indoctrination, strict
hierarchy of authority - the hallmarks of a cult - this is a medical
home email <maurice.mccarthy@...>
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