A Cure for Cancer by Keith Varnum

In my wildest imagination, I never dreamed of helping someone

kick cancer over the phone!

One evening in 1985, the telephone rang. It was my brother John

who lived in Washington, D.C. A call from my elder sibling was

highly unusual. A year my senior, John hadn't connected with me

for several years. It wasn't that we disliked each other; we

loved one another. We simply didn't have much in common and,

therefore, little to talk about. He was a big city, government

lawyer, married with a family. I was an ex-hippie acupuncturist

living the single life in Boston.

When I answered the telephone, it took me a moment to recognize

my brother's voice. John was crying profusely, his voice

conveying a feeling of terror and extreme loss. I'd never heard

my brother in this condition. He was ordinarily a bastion of

macho strength and bravado.

"John? What's wrong? What's happened? The boys? Sharon? Did

something happen to Mom?"

"I'm dying, Keith," John choked out between sobs.

My brother had developed a cancerous tumor the size of a golf

ball in the center of his brain stem. Most of the left side of

his body was already paralyzed. Within a few weeks doctors said

the paralysis would reach his heart. At that point, he'd die.

I was stunned. "Can't they operate or something? Did you get a

second opinion?"

The answer was no, they couldn't operate because of the size and

location of the tumor. Yes, he'd seen a slew of doctors. All the

cancer specialists he consulted concurred: because of the

location and size of the tumor, his condition was beyond help

through surgery, radiation or chemotherapy. There was nothing

medical science could do. My brother had approximately three

weeks to live. John had been sent home to die. His wife Sharon

and our mother were immobilized with grief and anxiety.

"What can I do, John?"

"Nothing, Keith. I just need to talk to someone. I've tried to

talk to Sharon and Mom. Every time I do, they just break down

and cry. The doctors can't help me, so they don't want any

further contact with me. My friends, well, they don't know what

to say, so they avoid me. I just need someone to talk to, Keith.

Will you talk to me?"

John had never asked me for any kind of assistance our whole

lives. He was the big brother who always had everything together.

I was the younger brother, the nonconformist who espoused

strange philosophies, made weird career choices and had all the

societal problems. Talk to him? Of course I would talk to him! I

was willing to do anything I could for him. I immediately

offered to catch the next plane to Washington.

"No, that's not what I need, Keith. There's nothing you can do

for me here. I just want to talk to someone."

"Okay, John," I answered.

We conversed for over two hours the first night. I quickly

realized that despite my accumulation of so many varied,

alternative healing techniques, nothing in my bag of tricks

could help my brother. It was too late to try acupuncture,

macrobiotics, yoga or rebirthing. The cancer was too far

advanced. He was paralyzed. He was being fed intravenously. It

was too late to change his diet or lifestyle. I'd never felt so

helpless.

What use is all my healing knowledge, I asked myself, if I can't

help my own brother in a life and death crisis?

Again, I offered to fly to Washington. Again, he refused. He

simply wanted someone to listen to him and be with him right

where he was-in pain, fear and despair. He didn't want to be

alone in his terror. Death was stealthily approaching, and my

brother had surrendered to the inevitable. He asked me to make

sure his two young sons had a strong male presence to support

them as they grew up. Although barely staying afloat in the

ocean of life's emotional challenges myself, I assured him I'd

be there as a caring and reliable father figure for his sons.

When we hung up, I was emotionally drained.

John called the next evening and, within minutes, again began

crying and expressing his fears. I listened helplessly, offering

suggestions based on my beliefs and experience as honestly as I

could without causing him even more pain. After he spent himself

and broke off the connection, I meditated late into the night

searching for some way to help this man who was such an integral

part of me. The answer I received didn't seem appropriate, but I

was determined to trust my inner coach. It had never let me down

before.

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BIO:

Drawing from the wisdom of native and ancient spiritual traditions, Keith Varnum shares his 30 years of practical success as an author, personal coach, acupuncturist, filmmaker, radio host, restaurateur, vision quest guide and international seminar leader (The Dream Workshops). Keith helps people get the love, money and health they want with his FREE “Prosperity Ezine” at www.TheDream.com.

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