One time my parents were having an argument and for some reason I started having a really bad asthma attack, which ended up being the worst one I have ever had. I was rushed up to the hospital by my parents, who were now arguing about who's fault it was that their daughter wasn't breathing. I was admitted in emergency and spend the night in observation after they strapped me up with an oxygen mask. All of the nurses and most of the doctors spoke only French which was a really big frustration for my parents as they do not speak French and although I understood what the staff were saying, I couldn't speak because I couldn't breath very well. After leaving me on oxygen overnight I was released the next day. It was at this point that the doctors told us that my asthma was also triggered by emotion. (Personal note: Whatever!) I was prescribed a muscle relaxant for sudden attacks and a strong steroid for infections. I have since learned that the steroid medication can increase your chances of getting cancer, or a multitude of nasty throat infections a great deal.

I haven't used either of these medications for any length of time since 1998. It was at this time that I said sucks to my asmar. My hatred of the medical profession, hospitals and medications won out and I gave them all up, as much as I could at least. I've been a practising Wiccan since 1994 and over time I have learned many things about natural remedies and herbs. When I feel an asthma attack or cold coming on, I'll jump in a really hot bath with eucalyptus oil, or fir oil. Both of these are expectorants and usually clear me right up and keep me healthy.

I also use other means to ensure I remain healthy. One of the initial inkshed said that we seem to turn to science first and God last. Well, I usually turn to my Goddess, Isis, first, or in combination with herbal treatments. If I am sick, I'll light a green candle on my altar at home and thread apple seeds onto a green cord. I will chant/pray to Isis and ask her to help me rid my body of the sickness, and to bless the necklace that I made (apple seeds) as a physical representation of my will to get well. I'll wear this necklace for a week and either make a new one (if I'm still sick), or burn it, or throw it in a river and give thanks to Isis for her help.

I know that this sounds really "out there" but my current method of healing had done leagues more for me than "modern medicine" had ever done. How can a "patient" (another lovely word) be healed when they are excluded from the process and simply told to take two puffs as needed and call someone that does not even know them from a hole in the ground the next day? I guess that is a big part of what has led me to my current practices.

Kathryn Assaff
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2.
When I was around 15, 16, or 17 years old I was told I had a high level of cortisol in my blood that was found in a routine blood check that women have to have done every six months or year when they are on the birth control pill. I was never really explained what cortisol was other than it was a hormone. I wasn't alarmed or concerned because my family doctor wasn't and was told to come back in a month to take another blood test to see if it goes down.

After a while of doing that my doctor said he didn't know why I had an unusually high level that persisted so he wanted me to have further testing at the Woodstock Hospital and see a specialist that only goes there once a month. He gave me some papers and told me to meet his nurse outside in the waiting area.

Looking through the papers, I see that I am going to have an ultrasound and some head X-rays. What? Head X-rays! That scared me. When the nurse was rushing around, I asked her why I needed these done and she said, "Look Honey, I don't know, I just work here." No word of a lie, that's what she said. So I left after she filled out whatever or called wherever and cried.

So probably like a month later I went to Woodstock for these tests not knowing what in hell for or what was wrong with me. I didn't feel any different. But I guess there is something wrong inside my body.

When I got my ultra sound performed, the nurse who did it explained that I may have something wrong with one of the two glands situated above my kidneys and that she is checking out my stomach to see if everything looks ok. She measured everything and everything looked fine.

Next I got my head X-rays. After which I went to see the specialist. English wasn't his first language and it was hard to talk to him. He didn't really care about my concerns either. I asked about the X-rays and he told me that I may have a brain tumor on my pituitary gland and this is what is making my hormone cortisol go all out of wack. This is also why they wanted me to go off the pill because a sure sign would be an out of wack period but I refused to go off the pill. I said, "I could have a brain tumor!" And he said, "don't worry, we just shove a little device up your nose and scrape it off and you should be ok." I don't remember being comforted, or told anything else other than "your doctor will call you." I left crying and extremely worried.

To sum it up, I called or was called and I didn't have a brain tumor, nothing was done about it, the cortisol levels went down eventually, don't know why. But I'm just as ok now as before they told me there was something wrong with me.

I really don't like our doctors these days. They aren't the way I'd like them to be. It could be because they're stressed and over booked but doctors shouldn't be so insensitive.

Rebecca Jones
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3.
Hmmm...this may not seem like the best example of illness and healing because it was not life threatening or a big deal which seems to be a common feeling shared by others about their own stories from reading my readerly responses. However, my experience happened recently and it sometimes worries me since I think it could happen again.

Here is my story. I worked outside for about eight hours a day this past summer and managed to get what I thought was a really nice tan. I did burn once at the start of the summer but from then on I kept it under control and just continued getting darker. By the time I returned to school in the fall everyone was complimenting my tan but it soon started to fade. The more it faded, the more I noticed that my neck and throat area did not fade and became very blotchy. It looked like I had dirt on my neck all the time and I hated it! People constantly asked what it was and I was embarrassed. I wore turtlenecks most of first semester and tried different creams that didn't work.

When I went home for Christmas I scheduled a doctor's appointment but at this point I was no longer angry or embarrassed. I was now scared that the doctor would tell me it was a horrible disease or even skin cancer. During the appointment my doctor took samples to send away by scraping my neck and he prescribed a medicated moisturizer. Thankfully, the cream worked within a week and my neck looks normal now. My doctor never actually contacted me to tell me exactly what it was which kind of bothered me and has happened to others from reading my readerly responses. But it is gone now....whatever it was.

After experiencing this I still worry about it because even though it appears to be healed, maybe it isn't, and if it is healed, there is no guarantee that it won't come back. Now I know to be more careful in the sun and I realize that my health is a very important part of my life. I am thankful that this experience of illness and healing was not something serious like I thought it could have been and it has definitely taught me a lesson.

Amy Cormier
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4.
In January or February of 2001, I developed a chest infection. It hurt to breathe, to move, to cough (which I did a lot of). I was bringing up multicolored phlegm and blood. At the time, eating was as improbable as smoking a cigarette or going to the bathroom. I did always make it to the bathroom, stubborn pride.

Born two months (and two days) before I was due, my lungs are underdeveloped. My early childhood was marked with trips to the hospital and chronic bronchitis. I eventually "outgrew" the need for steroid inhalers and yet this chest infection of my late teens was the worst I can recall. My residence room smelled like illness-think stale sweat, blood, infected wounds, tears, pain. I wanted equally to die and to get the blasted window open for fresh air. Weak to the point of disgusting myself, by the time I got the window open, I had to close it, I was chilled to the bone, more miserable.

After enduring several days of relative hell, I bundled up and walked to campus (20 minutes on a good day). Walking was suddenly a strenuous activity. Every step made it harder to breathe, ripped my chest apart. Once I got to the clinic, I waited a bit (as one must at a clinic) and eventually saw a nurse, then a doctor. The nurse seemed sympathetic and took a swab cell sample from my esophagus area. The doctor said he could not help me, that there was nothing he could possibly do for me. And then he gave me a nasal spray (don't ask why, I am still confused to this day, perhaps the glare of tears I directed at him was an insufficient expression of my distaste). And then he sent me home.

Wholly pissed off, crying, I went home and made myself tea after herbal tea, infusions galore. I took echinacea and vitamin C to boost my immune system (pneumonia seemed plausible after the walkies to and from campus). I stopped trying to smoke. I ate as often as I could, stews and hearty, good-for-me meals.

I called a friend who is also a Reiki practitioner, but then I knew even less than I do now (little) about chakras and she was unable to come visit. I wouldn't have wanted her to, I possess a measure of vanity and I looked like shit.

Several days later, breathing was easier (possible?) And I was no longer coughing up blood. I am now trying to take better care of my body and my immune system. I will not go through that again. I know my body better than anyone else, having known it longest (Mum would be an exception, but scientists are still puzzling over the mystery of the blastocyst-embryo cognition bit). I was closer then to death than I have ever been, it was tangible. Belief is a powerful tool and I did not at first believe in my body's capacity to "self-heal". I relied on an institution which I have never been overly fond of and another veil dropped, so to speak.

This experience totally turned me off of the concept of "modern medicine". The nasal spray did nothing but give me a nosebleed (surprised that I even tried it?). Not all doctors are so quackish, perhaps, but my trust is forevermore in "flaky" naturopathic medicines and holistic healers. They claim to treat the illness and not the symptoms. I believe it, and in myself. I know the Universe has a wicked sense of humor but that was a nasty way to learn such a seemingly fundamental lesson...

Mae Whyte
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5.
Almost three years ago I developed an abscess that would not go away. The infection spread, it became so bad that I was on iv antibiotic for five days. I had the VON come to my house every eight hours to administer the iv and off to my doctor every 48 hours. All together it took about two months for this to clear up, well kind of, it did not totally go away it would keep coming back every once in a while. It was like a pimple that would not go away. I had a biopsy done on the tissue and it was fine. They sent me to a dermatologist, once again another prescription( which I did not get filled). After dealing with this thing for months I went back to my doctor and asked if this could have anything to do with stress, BINGO!!!! I had found the cure; stress = immune system!

It was at this point in my life that things were just way out of control, I told my doctor that I needed to see someone. Someone that could help me make sense of the way I felt about things and to teach me how to deal with certain issues. So, I am just now finishing two years of psychotherapy and my health is fine, that thing has not come back! There is something else that has helped me and is still helping me, when all this craziness was going on a very good friend of mine gave me a set of runes, "The Healing Runes". If anyone wants to know what the runes are, feel free to ask me, if I were to explain I would be writing for days.

Tanya Grealey
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6.
When I was in junior high school, I began to experience severe migraine headaches. My family doctor diagnosed them as such and prescribed a pain killer to deal with their onset. Although this did allow for less pain, it left many aspects of this illness intact. My doctor noted, after many tests, that these migraines were far more than the usual major headaches. There cause was assumed not to be due to the typical factors such as stress, allergies, or breathing problems. Along with severe pain, I also experienced disorientation, visual complications, and fainting spells.

So, she sent me to a neurologist, which proved to be unsuccessful. He ordered further tests like blood work and EEGs. The severity was able to be measured and they detected a definite problem. I was given more pills to take on a daily basis. These pills did absolutely nothing for the migraines but resulted in horrific side effects. I had to discontinue taking them.

These migraines continued with no relief into high school. At one time I began to take an unacceptable number of migraines per week. So, my doctor made me an appointment at the Isaac Walton Kilem Children's Hospital in Halifax. I traveled five hours from home and remained an outpatient at the hospital for upwards of two weeks. Finally, a specialist was able to pinpoint my condition as a rare form of migraines referred to as "the rushes". He said that this specific condition was caused by a rush of blood flowing to the brain very quickly. Although he knew the cause, he could not offer a cure.

While I was in Halifax, an appointment was made for me with a doctor who titled himself as an hypno-therapist. I had several consultations with him and a quasi-solution was found. He documented our meetings while he essentially hypnotized me. At first, I thought this idea was a little wacky but I was pretty desperate so I decided to be open minded. He basically taught me to find a superior level of relaxation through self-hypnosis. I was able to get into a routine of practicing these exercises every night before going to bed. It was not an easy remedy but after a long while of doing this, my migraine episodes decreased and became less severe.

I have since taken it a step further. I have begun to do a lot of reading on Tibetan Buddhism. I have been experimenting with their meditation techniques. My migraines are almost eliminated as of now. I have not had one in almost a year. This may be because I had a juvenile illness but I suspect that my meditation and relaxation practices had much to do with alleviating my situation.

Ali Sampson
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7.
One summer my father came back from a months business trip experiencing flu-like symptoms, severe fatigue, and swelling of the eyelids. After "toughing-it-out" for a little over two weeks, my father finally went to the doctors office. He was sent back home with instructions to drink plenty of fluid, get plenty of rest, and to soak his swollen eyelids for ten minutes each night.

 Another three weeks passed and nothing changed in my fathers well being. He returned to the doctor and was then referred to a specialist at the hospital. Spending over five hours talking with different specialists and going through a number of tests, my father was encouraged to stay at least 48 hours in the hospital.

 My father, whom had no serious family background illnesses,was tested for Parkinson's Disease; had his lymph nodes removed in his neck, armpits and groin in search of cancerous tumors; had cat scans and a number of other tests.Doctors were unable to diagnose my father though he was still fatigue, and suffering with flu-like symptoms.

 Two and half weeks after being admitted in the hospital, my father awoke early in the night with a frigid chill. He got up to ask the nurse-on-duty to turn up his heat and could not feel his legs. As he struggled out of his room and into the hallway, my father fainted.   My father had had a stroke. Five hours in a coma, two days in intensive care, my father was finally sent home on a 24 hour pass to tell his family he had 48 hours to live.  My father came home, wrote out his will, made funeral arrangements, helped my mother with plans to sell our family home, etc...   Five days after my dad's "24-hour-visit", he came home for good.   Though my father's stroke almost killed him, and certainly killed a part of him, he was miraculously born-again in a sense and healed.

Megan Murray
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8.
I am not really sure if this fits what we are supposed to be writing about or not....but here it goes.

When I was about four years old, for some unknown reason to me, my aunt had a huge fight with her grandmother. They had not spoken for sixteen years and she had never got the chance to meet my aunt's children, which deeply hurt her.

She was in the hospital for many months hooked up to many machines because she took a turn for the worst. Anyway, two weeks later my aunt and her children went to see her at the hospital. I am not sure why because they had not spoken for many years.

Unfortunately the next day she had died. I guess she was healed because all was forgotten and they forgave each other and she now had peace in her life when she passed. In a sense I guess you could say they were given a chance to heal their relationship???

-Sheldon
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9.
  This is a story about illness and healing;....I practice prevention.So oneday while Iwas doing one of my cleansing baths,which takes toxins out of tyhe the body ,I some how hit my spine the wrong way on the bottom of the tub. It so happened,when I did this I injured my spine. For about a month after the tub incident the place where I hurt my spine,if I moved my spine the wrong way,it would hurt really bad! So I decided I would check it out,I discovered I had a painful lump there.I thought to myself "Oh its nothing" butr it kept on getting worse. I really got into a panic that day, it was a Friday(just kidding).A thought occured to me that,I may have cancer.This thought really freaked me out. as time went on.....I never worried about it.I just kept on being positivethat, my faith would prevail because,I did not deserve this fate.  Some people call it optimism,i myself call it positivity, faith,also not worring.Just trrusting that the faith, I was given will help me,and in my case it did. Tjhe lump in my back went away.

Robert(Bobby)Lewey) P.S.Thanks for your comments!
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10.
            The only illness that has affected my family recently is that of my baby cousin Hannah.  She is just over fifteen months old and was born with a hole in her heart.  When Hannah was first born the doctors thought that she was perfectly healthy, but as she got older her weight and height were way below normal.  So her doctor decided to check it out.  They took many tests and finally discovered she had a small hole in her heart.  Tari and Glen, her parents, were frantic trying to get her an appointment to get her heart fixed.  Finally last summer they got her an appointment at the IWK hospital in Toronto.  They took her there and stayed there for a week.  During the week that they were there the family had to go through the pre-surgery appointments and finally two days before they Hannah went through the most important surgery in her short life.  She is now living in Fredericton with her older sister Emily and her parents.  The only memory that she will have of the entire ordeal is the scar that run s from the middle of her chest to under her armpit, which in a couple of years will be barely noticeable.

Tricia Perry
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11.
A Story of Illness

Nancy Stevens.  Nancy is the mother of my oldest and best guyfriend Andrew.  Our families have shared golf weekends,Nintendo games, piano lessons, legal and medical advice.Today, Nancy has breast cancer, but it's a secret.  It is a secret that is assumed to be known and not talked about.Andrew, my once duo piano partner and invite to every birthday I've ever had, is trying to deal with it.  Like the rest of his family, he acts as if her lost hair and breast are fine.  He looks upon her with the same admiration, love and affection as I have always seen him.  But inside, I see the hurt.  He tries to cover himself with an overexposed smile, but I see behind those eyes.

Since her first experience one year ago, more cancer has been found.  This time, in her other breast.  The painful process must continue once again.  I hear this from my mother.  Since the beginning, she has talked to Nancy's husband, Ted (my family's lawyer), while he picks up her prescriptions at my mother's pharmacy.  Unlike the rest of the family, who fight their pain again through hurting smiles and saying nothing, Ted can express himself.However, it is only to those most near to him.  When he came in the very first time, he wept behind the pharmacy's blood pressure booth.  No one tried to move him.  After a few months, he'd come in after Nancy had had a few good days and would genuinely smile, talk a little about her current condition and wish my mother well after he left.

This time, Nancy wants to seek herbal or alternative methods.  I haven't heard what curing methods she wants to use, but my mother has volunteered to help recommend alternative medications.  She knows she wants to bring more strength in herself and the family.  Though the family has more confidence now, in case of any further complications,she is encouraging the family to read alternative healing books and take meditative classes.  The local hairstylist,who lives a few doors from the Stevens', happens to be a professional yoga and Chinese meditation instructor and teaches classes nearby.  Though he is an exquisite,eccentric individual, I hope he brings a little laughter and helps the family better communicate and emotionally deal with the pain they again must endure.  We all love her and wish everything turns out well, now and forever.

Nicole Sutherland.
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12.
3 years ago my aunt, whom I was very close with, was diagnosed with cancer. She was only 40 and had just recently had her 5th child. After her diagnoses she under went chemo and other treatments of 'healing' to prolong her life. During the last months of her life she suffered a great deal because of the strain the treatments had taken on her body. Several times she tried to end her life and once she became unable to do things for herself she asked her brother to help her end her life. While none of us wanted her to suffer one more day, we wanted to be with her as much time as we had left. When I look back I feel a little selfish, but we all loved her a great deal. The day she died was very sad, but we were all relieved to know she was out of her misery and that she was gone to a better place. She wasnt' agraid to die as she knew she would be at peace in a better place, so in a way it was conforting to know she wasn't afraid. And while we all miss her a lot, knowing what she went through, we cant miss he r back to the life she didn't want anymore.

Melissa Brophy
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13.
I think it was June 8, 1993 that I got a headache.  I took Tylenol and sinus medication to try to soothe it.  Nothing worked.  I went to my family doctor and he told me to go home and rest in a dark room and drink lots of liquids.   I did that for about a week and a half.  When I went back to the medical center my own doctor was out on vacation, so I saw another doctor (#2).  He wanted a urine sample but I could not give him one.  He consulted with yet another doctor and made a decision to admit me into the hospital.

An internist (a doctor who studies internal medicine) interviewed me and examined me for about ten minutes and told doctor #2 that I had viral meningitis.  Well, everyone else was still baffled.  They gave me no medication, except laxatives to make my bowels move.  They had stopped as well as my bladder.  I was dizzy all the time on one side of my head.  The nurses took blood from me every day and every test imaginable was performed.

My mother attends a prayer group every week and she had all of them praying for me.  I went through two lumbar punctures (spinal taps) and my white cell count was "very high," the doctor (mine) told me.  He never told me exactly how high.  Another internist came to talk to me (about 45 minutes this time).  I was in the hospital for about three weeks.  The doctors finally all agreed that I had viral meningitis and encephalitis and since it was a virus there was no medication that could work.  Meanwhile my mom had everyone she knew praying for me.After I got out of the hospital I had to use a catheter because my bladder still was not working and I had an imbalance in my head so I walked like a drunk person.  I had to use a cane.

The next year when I saw my family doctor for a physical he asked me if there were any side effects or lingering symptoms.  I told him "no," he then preceded to tell me that everyone was very worried that I may not get back to 100% of my former self.  I was shocked and told him that it never even entered my mind that I would not get better.  He said that was probably a good thing.

There was another young girl who got sick with the same (or similar) thing as I did and she is still not back to 100%.  Her memory only came back to 10%. There are different circumstances for her.  I had medication for an ear infection, so did she, but she did not take all of her medication.

I received but one readerly response on my paper and that person wanted to know why I got better and not the other girl.  I am not sure why, the doctor thought that maybe because I took all the medication for my ear infection that buffered me against having the virus more severely.  Also, the reader wanted to know if I thought it was fair for one person to suffer and not another.  No, I do not think it is fair for anyone to suffer.  But I do not know why I was spared and not her.

Karen Connolly,
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14.
I have always thought of myself as having perfect health.  There have been a few cases of broken bones and one minor operation, but as a whole I think I am doing quite fine.  The biggest event , not necessary an illness, is when I was four years old and I broke my arm here in Fredericton.  I ended up in the local hospital, a hour and a half away from my home and my friends, for almost a month in the middle of the summer.  The bone healedö yet there is some damage to the nerves   (the bone shattered on impact and pieces of the bone traveled through my arm).  The medical doctors kept telling me that my arm and hand would be,and was weaker than the other, and that I would have less felling in the hand and fingers because of the damage to the nerves.  For many years I was forced somehow to believe them, being young and having no mind of my own.  Then I grew up and started thinking for myself and starting to believe in myself.  I found out that the arm that had been broken was actually as strong, if not stronger, than the other.  I started to tell myself that my arm can and will be normalö, and through my stubborn nature, I started to disagree with the doctors.  I think that my mind was truly controlling my body and not the other way around. What ever I believe in my mind somehow became reality. There is medical proof that there is nerve damage yet it does not seem to affect me.  I know that the mind over matter approach may not cure a person from their illness, but I do think that it will make the person a lot happier in their day-to-day life.  Medically I can not say that I am completely unaffected by the broken bone, but personally I do not let it have any affect on me.  Even if the scientific world tells me different, as long as I feel fine, I am fine, and I am in perfect health.

Owen C. Burns
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15.
I limped into the Doctor's office at 312 lbs. on a warm July day in 1996.My blood pressure had heightened. The curvature of my spine was bringing on more pain.My leg, from the anger, excess weight and abuse was indeterminably safe from amputation.I had ulcers external on my leg.  They were bleeding approximately four times per annum from about eight different holes on my leg.  Keep reading, soon I won't read like such a victim.A spiritual book given to me two weeks prior to the Doctor's visit opened a long closed door.Behind this door was a beautiful man.  He was alive, vibrant, unafraid, angry at no one, not even himself.  He glowed.  Truly I saw a light surround him.  He was the man I would become.This occurred in increments but none the less left an indemnible mark that somehow I knew my life would never be the same.

 The Doctor's face looked grave and I understood that but the grace of the Divine had kissed my heart and I knew it.

 One book led to the next.  I allowed the wellspring of emotion to flow.I was alive-----WOW!

 I cried, wrote, yelled, forgave.  I recognized my heart was broken and didn't deny it.  I denied a thousand things and every once in a while catch one and deny it no longer.

 I have been so perfectionistic that I didn't stop to see my level of consciousness was causing my pain.  I opened my eyes and the Holy Spirit came at the invitation.

 Through meditation I learned that the physical illness need not be gone completely to be healed.  My leg is still carrying the resonance of several lifetimes of baggage, however my awareness of what I believe to to be the cause has given me the spiritual solace to heal.

 I even recognize the very gift of the illness itself.   Next time around my leg will be fine.This I know..

R.Frenette
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16.
 A week before Christmas, my dad had some pains in his chest. He had recently seen our family doctor, who'd told him that he was suffering from a lung infection. My dad was prescribed some antibiotics, and Dad was only halfway finished the medication. My dad thought the pains were from the lung infection.

 My dad's birthday is December 23rd. We always have a party for him with myself, my mom, and my sister, plus my dad's best friends. There's usually a whole lot of lobster, scallops, and cake. Anyhow, this year, Dad didn't feel for any of it. He kind of kept to himself, which is just weird for my super-social Dad. He's usually really loud and crazy and funny with his friends, but it was easy to see that he didn't feel like himself.

 The next day, he admitted himself to the hospital. The doctors told him that he had suffered a heart attack, but would be fine in a few days, with some new pills to take. My family missed the children's mass at church for the first time ever (so many funny little kids!), but my sister, mom, and I went to Midnight Mass. We said a lot of prayers for my dad.

 On the next Monday, he was still in the hospital. It was New Year's Eve, and he was being sent to Halifax for some testing. He kept having mini heart attacks while he was in Kentville, and they didn't know how to fix it. We thought he was just having some tests done that day, so I went shopping around downtown for an hour or five (50% off at Sam the Record Man!!). When I got back to the hospital, I found out they had just admitted him for open heart surgery. He required a quadruple-bypass, as four of his arteries were blocked. Dad got through the surgery very well, and his heart is fine. A post-surgery drug they administered to my dad caused him to have a severe allergic reaction, where he went into arrest for around three minutes before the doctors could get him back. There were so many people praying for my dad, and I know this helped him get through the surgery. The arrest he went into has caused many complications. His lungs, kidneys, and stomach aren't working yet. His gall bladder was removed yesterday.

 My sister and I are both back at school, but it's really hard to concentrate, and I can't wait until I get back to Halifax this weekend! I know that God is watching out for my family and I through all of this. My first reaction was being really upset with God for letting this happen, but to leave God at a time like this would be to fall into despair. I know that God has reasons for everything that happens, and I trust Him. Sometimes, it's easy to put all your faith in the medical system and our doctors, forgetting that God deserves the same amount of faith. I don't really enjoy what God has mapped out for my family and I right now, but faith tells me that God must have good reason. I'm not certain what would 'heal' my dad right now. I hope that the surgeons are able to cure what is ailing his organs now. If they can't, maybe going to heaven would be the only thing to heal him. If they can cure the problems with his body, I think the real healing process will begin when he gets home. Healing will come through learning how to make better decisions in taking care of himself as a whole.

Jennifer Crawford
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17.
 Almost one year ago to the day, I woke up with severe pain in the left side of my face.  I could hardly see out of my left eye.  I was terrified to get out of bed to look at my face.  I laid in bed for a while and tried to go back to sleep  I figured that I had a headache or something and that sleeping it off would be the best thing to do.  I couldn't get to sleep so I got up and went into the bathroom to only realize that the entire left side of my face was swollen.  After waking up my parents, I applied some ice which did nothing.  I could not pinpoint the exact location of my pain and so I didn't know what was wrong.
 I took some Tylenol 3 and that gave me enough relief to be able to pinpoint that it was my teeth that hurt.  I called up the dentist immediately and pulled on a baseball cap and went to the clinic.  He immediately knew that I had an abscess tooth.  After some x-rays, he decided I needed a root canal.  He said he wouldn't be able to do the root canal until the infection was gone, so he sent me home with anti-biotic and told me to come back in a week.  That was the most painful week of my entire life.  Imagine constant severe pain in the front of your mouth.  I wanted to knock my teeth out!  I think I would rather be missing a front tooth than sit through that pain again.  Anyhow, my face got more swollen before it got better.  I didn't go out of the house for the week.  Eventually, most of the infection seemed to be gone.
 I went back to the clinic for my root canal.  I was petrified.  As he began inserting needles and drilling, I raised my hand (as directed by him) when I felt pain.  He looked down at me and told me that there was still some infection and so the freezing wouldn't take.  Instead of going home to wait for the rest of the infection to go away, he decided to go ahead with the root canal even though I virtually had no freezing.  There is no way I can describe this feeling.  As soon as he touched my tooth with the drill, I just moaned in pain.  He took it a little at a time and after an hour and a half, we were done.  I continued to take pain killers and antibiotic but after a week, I seemed to be OK.
 I have never been really sick.  I have been blessed that way.  This was not an illness as such and I am not sure I would label myself as healed.  I think I was cured.  Or maybe better yet, I was fixed.

Merri-Lee Hanson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18.
When I was a little, I suffered from bad asthma. Sometime, I could not even walk. Especially, when the season changes from  fall to  winter , I had such a bad asthma and had to go to hospital often. I was not allowed to participate certain supports. Sometime, having asthma was good thing because I did not need to run 3km in gym class. However, most of time, the fact that I had asthma was very bad thing and I remember that I often felt that I was weak and abnormal.

Then, things has changed after I started taking Yoga class where I learned about energy, "Ki".
 I was grade 5, when my mother took me to Yoga class. At first, I did not feel like going to the class because I was simply not interested in. However, I ended up going. Eventually I started to like Yoga, because the more I practice,  the more I felt own "Ki" and understood how it worked. As we practiced Yoga, we learned about Ki and also learned different poses with meanings. Approximately one year after I started  taking Yoga, my asthma was gone. I did not notice such a long time the fact that my bad asthma was gone. Medicines helped me temporary when I had asthma, but could not cure asthma that I had. But, somehow, practicing Yoga  maintaining and controlling  "Ki" cured my asthma.

I believe that taking Yoga class was my one of rite of passage. When I think about it now, it changed my life.  I took Yoga class about 5 years and I still practice meditation and controlling my  "Ki", energy that every living creature has. I can feel that when I am very sick, I have very bad and a little "Ki" so,  I try to get good " Ki" from sun or tree. On the other hand, when I am healthy, I can feel that I have good and enough "Ki" so, sometime I gave my "Ki" to my mother who was sick at that time. I found  that maintaining good and enough "Ki" is very important because it affect my health.

Yoshimi Fukui
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19.

 In grade nine, the smallest of ailments can seem like a life threatening illness.  I myself experienced one of these ailments in the form of a canker sore.  You know, those mouth ulcers you get that really piss you off for a day then disappear.  But I tell you, this was no ordinary canker soreàit was mutinous.  A nasty little fucker, it sat right on the tip of my tongue.  For the first couple of days I waited for it to disappear as these sores are known to do, but alas, it only got worse.  The ulcer, about the size of a small nail head, opened up, leaving me in excruciating pain.
 About a week went by before I told my folks.
-"Wash it out with salt and some hot water, it'll take it I away, it always works for me, babble babble babble," rants my big sister.
-"No no no, what you got to do is leave it alone for a few days. Quit playing with it. It'll go away soon," adds my laid back dad with his laissez-faire attitude.
 Obviously I was not going to get any help from them, so I let it go for about a month. A month of silent but intense pain.
 I finally couldn't deal with it anymore and decided to go to the doctor, who was kinda freaked out by the whole thing. He thought it was horridly large and gross.  He prescribed the usual.  At this point, let me add, I didn't care about it going away, I had accepted the fact that I was gonna have this thing for the rest of my life.  No, I just wanted the pain to stop.  He gave me ulcer meds and a numbing mouthwash for the pain.  The ulcer drink was probably the most disgusting thing I had ever ingested up until I experimented with Bombay Gin in grade twelve. It was really fucking awful.  Imagine cream mixed with ground up dandy lions and some extra special puke seasoning for added flavor, all poured down your throat.  But guess what, not too much pain relief and for some reason, the bastard didn't go away.  Another two months of this crap, which brings me to early march.  March break to be exact.
 My father, mother, brother and I were planning a trip to Quebec City and Montreal for the break.  The point of the Quebec City excursion was to go the distance and visit St. Anne de Beaupre Cathedral, which was apparently in the area.  I asked my dad why this church was so great.  He told me that it was a huge church and that many miracles had occurred there.  THIS WAS IT!!!! My big chance.  I was going to go there and pray.  Pray like I never had before in the hopes that God would take away my pain.
 When we got there after the lengthy drive, I ran to the first pew I saw and started my prayin'.  "Dear God, please take it away."  It was amazing.  I could feel his presence there even though I was just a young kid.  I trusted him.  Within 3 days, it was gone.  Not only the canker sore but all the other ailments I was experiencing at the time too.  I am pretty sure it was all in my head.  I wanted something cool to happen to me.  Something profound.  So maybe I sub-consciously didn't allow my canker sore to go away until I really wanted it too.  Who knows?  I didn't care though, I felt great, both physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I was truly healed and it was probably the most freaky, yet amazing experience I had ever had up until that point(remember, the Gin comes later).

Adam Winchester
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20.
When I was younger I used to get really bad headaches.  Tylenol, Advil, Aspirin etc did nothing.  Doctors didn't think my headaches were migraines because I didn't have any of the other symptoms that often come with migraines.  I was sent to an eye doctor to see if perhaps I was straining my eyes, which in turn was causing my headaches.  My eyes were fine.  In fact, I had perfect vision.  Next I was sent to a physiotherapist and various masseuses.  Their treatment would sometimes make my headaches better and sometimes they would not come back for a little while, but they would always return.  My doctor finally told me that he figured it was something I would grow out of.  My parents and I were not so sure but we didn't know what else to try.  After over a year of headaches a friend's mom suggested I try meditating because maybe my headaches were caused by stress and worry and I just needed to relax and do some "mental housecleaning."  Being the sceptical 13 old that I was I thought it sounded kind of fruity but nonetheless I was willing to try just about anything.  So she showed me how to meditate.  How to sit, breathe, clear my mind etc.  I found it interesting but my mind kept wandering so I found I wasn't getting much out of it.  After trying her technique for a little while I decided to change it a little to something I was better able to do and keep focused on.  Everyday for at least twenty minutes I would lie down and breathe deeply, but comfortably.  With every breath I took in I would imagine soothing colours, feelings and/or sounds flowing through my head.  It's kind of hard to explain but it felt nice so I figured that was a good start.  With every breath I breathed out I would imagine dark, negative thoughts and feelings flowing out of my head/body and going away from me.  My friend's mom had suggested that maybe I was holding a lot of stress, anger, fear or other "big" emotions in, so after I breathed for a while imagining the colours/sounds/feelings, I did something a little different for the remainder of my relaxation time.  With each breath I took in I would say in my mind things like, "relaxed, happy, safe, strong going in" and then "stress, anger, confusion, fear going out" when I breathed out.  The things I said varied on my mood.  I didn't really think about what to say I just left it up to my subconscious because my friend's mother had told me that it knew best what I needed to bring in and let out (seems she was right too!).  This technique probably sounds kind of hokey.  I felt kind of silly doing it at first but I also figured I had nothing to lose, and after doing it diligently my headaches began to lessen.  First they were not so strong, and then they came less often.  Sometimes at the beginning of my meditating I would have a headache and by the end it would be gone or very nearly gone.  I did my meditating until I noticed that I was no longer getting headaches.  Today I very rarely get headaches, and never are they as strong as they used to be, but whenever I feel really stressed out or upset about something I will lie down and do my breathing and visualizing, and at the very least it helps me to really calm down and put things into perspective.  I think often we are too quick to pop any pill we are handed in order to get rid of whatever our ailment is.  We want the quick fix.  The less work and time it takes to make the problem go away the better.  This way may offer temporary relief as long as the pill is taken, although this was not the case with me, but who wants to be taking pills all the time?  I do not.  Most of the time I think there is a way that does not involve chemical medicine that you can use to heal yourself and I would much rather try that way than drug myself up and suppress the problem.  That's just me though and everyone is different and responds to things differently!

Catherine Rolfe
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 21.
Circa December 18, 1995 the practitioners gathered in the meditation hall at Silent Ground. In total, there were seven in attendance. Every evening, the day's practices ended by going strait to the bones. In translation, this practice is called Bone Marrow Nei Kung. It involves a standing posture and can last as long or longer than an hour. In essence, one breathes directly into the bones. Prana, chi, energies harnessed from the chakras, and/or anything available (save negative energies).
         There was one practitioner, a woman who I respected and still do to this very moment; her name shall remain nameless (she was about 35 years old at this time, I was 25). She went through a drastic healing process one particular night. Now, this woman used to leave notes on the communal chalkboard for me in particular (as there was no talking for 8 months of the year). Things such as: "Please don't leave the toilet seat up" and "Please be mindful while entering the meditation hall". Everyone knew these messages pertained to me, but were never addressed to me in particular. One time she became angry with me because I threw out the grain coffee. I was on dish duty and I was getting sick of seeing this pot, day after day, with particulate matter sitting in the bottom, So, I threw the shit out and washed the pot. I almost regret it to this very moment. The silent, energetic wrath of a Yogini is something to be approached with caution and definitely warrants one to take heed. It wasn't the fact that I threw it out; it was the mindlessness of the act, which made her angry. OK. On with the story>>>>>>>
          One night after the practice was finished; the Yogini almost immediately assumed a "full lotus". This was odd as we usually used to "unwind" and "stretch out" after the practice. I took note of this and continued with my practice. After sitting in this position for about 13, 20 or 33 minutes, she assumed again the standing posture one uses in Bone Marrow Nei Kung. It was 13, 20 or 33 minutes after that when>>>>>>>She fell to the wood floor hard. She was screaming with a deep voice, convulsing, at times, rolling around in extreme agony, holding her left collarbone. She was left alone. Then, a teacher came and placed her hand upon the Yogini. The practitioners left the meditation hall. But, as was the usually the case, when there was dialogue between practitioners; I did my best to eavesdrop. Wilbert and I used to go to the kitchen at night and talk. This was exclusive to him and I. On Sundays, there was a Dharma talk guided by the two teachers and some feedback from the practitioners. Other than that, speaking was permitted in emergency situations. Obviously, this situation warranted verbal interaction. As the practitioners were leaving, I hung around in the shadows observing what was taking place. The teacher asked a general question, like "Are you all right?" The Yogini replied, "When I was a girl, I broke my collar boneö. There was minimal discussion of this event during the following Sunday's Dharma talk. However, It was intimated that the Yogini had attained a "new collarbone". This intimation was very subtle. Therefore, to put it clearly, this was my conclusion. But this conclusion felt right at the time and still does.

Blessings unto you, fellow classmates, Thom and Alison. See you Tuesday evening,
Troy
~~~~~~~~~
 22.
Two years ago, I noticed that I did not feel quite right.I began feeling very tired all of the time,which was very unlike me.I also noticed that I had gained a lot of weight in a short period of time and there was no reason for such an increase in weight. Not only did these two symptoms seem a little odd to me, I also noticed other symptoms such as elevated blood pressure, headackes,emotional instability,so on and so forth.

 I was a little worried because I did not know why I was feeling this way.I approached my family doctor and she suggested that I go to the hospital for some blood work.She scheduled some blood work for me and of course I went. The following week,I received a call from my family doctor.She asked me to come and see her as soon as possible to discuss the results.

 That phone call worried me, of course, however I went to see my family doctor two days later. She indicated that I had hypothyroidism or low thyroid.

 I was relieved that it was not something life threatening,however I was still a little perplexed about this disease. She explained to me that my thyroid gland controlled everything within my body and that if it was not functioning well, problems could occur. She also told me that she had to medicate me in order for my body to recieve the proper amount of hormone(from my thyroid gland).She informed me that my thyroid gland would have to be checked regularly and my medication may need to be ajusted from time to time.

 I went home feeling still a little afraid and decided to read up upon it. I bought an excellent book that was very useful. I realized that many people suffered from the same disease. The book indicated that medication was needed to control the disease, however another type of healing had to take place.What other type of healing, were they talking about?

 It took me a little time to figure that one out, but I did.Besides changing my lifestyle(exercicing on a regular basis,eating much healthier and getting losts of rest), I decided to focus my healing within a different manner. I began having a closer relationship with God and learning my own spirituality.

 I thank God everyday for my blessings and I ask him to protect me within the day.I express to him my fears and my joys.I trust him with my life. I turn to him for guidance within my everyday tasks( some are small tasks while others are larger tasks).I truly believe that my relationship with God, is for me,my special way of healing. I feel great physically, emotionally and spritually!

Lisa Pitre
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
23.
My first thoughts on this was that "illness" implied a physical illness, which is something I have little experience with (fortunately!) but then I realized that the best example of this that I have personally experienced is that of mental illness (which does, after a while, have physical results). Though I do have a bit of "experience" in it myself, my story is about my bset friend Amanda.

Amanda suffered from severe depression for a very long time. She was a self-injurer and eventually attempted suicide 3 times. She lost touch with reality, constantly drifting off to a dream world that she created for herself to help keep from harming herself, which worked... until she "came back" to reality and saw her life was not the same as her dream. I was the only one who knew any of this. I was the only one who saw her scars, I was the only one she talked to. After her 2nd attempt to kill herself I brought her to a psychologist much against her will (which was the hardest thing I've ever had to do) and she was put in therapy and on anti-depressants. She refused to take her medication as perscribed because she claimed they gave her a "fake happiness" which is not what she wanted. She'd take a pill one day, and then stop for a week, and so on, and her depression was only getting worse. Her 3rd attempt was taking the entire bottle of pills (fortunately, they don't give mentally unstable people enough drugs to kill themselves with). She went to the hospital and had her stomach pumped, and came out of it okay. Her depression lasted a long time, and eventually gave up on therapy and pills. Now 2 years later, she is still not fully recovered, and sometimes things trigger her to fall down again, but she is doing much better. She claims the only thing that kept her alive was seeing me leaning against a cabinet in the doctors office with tears streaming down my face, sobbing uncontrollably as she explained the ways in which she tried to kill herself. She saw how much this would hurt me, and realized she would be hurting many people if she took her life. She has told me that no amount of pills or therapy could've done what I did for her, which I find hard to believe sometimes, because I beat myself up over it the entire time, angry at myself for not being able to do more. To this day I would have blamed myself if she ever had've killed herself.

She is going to a wedding this spring where she will be seeing all of her family, and she recently told me she can't wait to show them how strong she has become.

My readerly responses all asked about ME... how I handled it, how I coped... which I intentionally left out because this story was more about her healing than mine. But, since they asked, I suppose I should answer. In the middle of all of this, I realized that I was never going to be fully happy again, until she was okay. Once she was stable, relatively happy, and at peace with herself, I would be okay again. And it's an absolutely horrible feeling having such little control over your feelings... I didn't like the fact that I couldn't be happy until she was. But that's the way I felt. She was my best friend. And I cried myself to sleep most nights wondering if she was going to be there the next morning. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and had completely lost touch with myself. Someone asked if  had anyone to talk to about this... and yes, I did. I refused to talk to any of my-age friends, but I had a friend, Laura, who was much older than I. Sort of a surrogate sister/mother figure. I told her everything about it, and she always begged me to start taking care of myself, because I was focussing completely on her. Laura pointed out to me one day that I seemed to have forgotten what it is to do things for ME... but that didn't seem important to me. It completely consumed my life, and no, it was not healthy... but Amanda relied on me, and I relied on Laura, and somehow we all got through it. I feel as though we are both healed. I learned a lot from it, and if anything good came out of it, it brought us incredibly close. It had a huge affect on my life, but everything happens for a reason and I am still finding more and more proof that this is true.

Kate McLean
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24.
I never usually get sick besides the small common cold or flu. The healing process was a day or two of rest and that was all. Until this year I was beginning to get a small cough which started to get worse. I was too busy with everything to go to the doctorÆs or get any rest. Eventually I had to go to the doctor I went and found out I had bronchus. Then the doctor gave me more bad news… " I think we need some blood test to determine if you have MONO!!!" After painfully removing my blood (which was a first for me) the test came up positive !! I am not sure were I caught " the kissing disease " from because I wasnÆt going around kissing randomly guys. It is common to catch it from anything like drinking water or whatever that was not my biggest concern. My concern was that Mono makes you tired. Plus you donÆt get the symptoms until after you have it so all this time I was trying to play rugby, study, staying awake in class, and going out to with my friend. There are no mediations for Mono or and treatment besides rest. This mean all I could do is rest. Ok it sounds easy but not for me. Sire the first bit was great staying bed and watching movies all day but not for 6 weeks! I was not allowed to do any physical activity, couldnÆt drink, was not suppose to stay out late, and I had to miss a bunch of classes (which put me behind a lot). My whole life was altered. Everything that I enjoy and used and now I couldnÆt. I really hate missing out on things so I did get rest but I was quite bitter. I then realized that I didnÆt have any control about this and then I struggled with trying to make the best of my time and try to just mange. I needed to spend some time by myself and try to organize the things and my thoughts. I guess it was a kind of mediations. It could be just a type of escape. It was kind of a healing process for when my life gets a little out of my control.

Tracey Lewis
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25.
             It was just a few weeks ago, when I heard this story pertaining to healing, which is perfect for this assignment. My boyfriends mother's friend is dying of cancer and of course she is extremely upset about this. I was sitting on the couch with her a few weeks ago, trying to comfort her, when she told me a story about someone else she knew that beat cancer in a mystical kind of way. One of her friends had a daughter and when she was quite young, maybe in her early teens, she was diagnosed with cancer ( the type I am not sure of ). All I know is that is was very serious. The doctors decided to do treatments such as chemo. Time past and the treatment did not seem to be working and the cancer was starting to spread. The family did not know what else to do and were not ready to accept the fact that their daughter may not beat it. They were quite religious people and decided that if medicine would not work than maybe prayer would. They got as many people together and asked their entire church congregation to pray for their daughter as much as they could. Friends and family prayed for her as well. One day when she went in for a checkup to see if the cancer had spread, the doctors found something astonishing, her cancer was not spreading and it looked as though it was disappearing. Today she is entirely cancer free. It has never come back and she is in her late twenties now.  The idea of spiritual prayer to cure diseases is not a new thing. I have seen documentaries and read articles pertaining to this. I believe that there is something or someone that is beyond our comprehension that guides and shapes the road our lives follows. I still am a skeptic when it comes to issues such as the one mentioned above. Was it really religious healing or was it an after effect of the chemo? A person will never really know.  I hope that what happened to her was an act of God, but if not the important thing is that she was healed.

Sarah Christie
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26.
Illness. Personal experience. Nothing stunningly interesting really. Common colds, the occasional flu. The sort of thing that can ahppen anywhere, anytime. They tend to strike in seasons. Predictable really. Coughing, sneezing, runny nose,sometimes nausea. That's all I ever seem to get. Nothing overly life-threatening. Irritating, but not severe.Healing? Well I don't know that I've ever been healed. They go away. Healed though? I doubt it. I never really do anything about them. Wait them out, I know they're only temporary. I'm not sure if it's patience or apathy. Either way I get no treatment, take no medecine, otherwise alter my day, save amybe an extra trip to the store for tissue. Could waiting provide healing though? (A colleague has written "time heals all wounds" in the margin by this sentence) I've no clue. Maybe. I know it saves me from fucking with my system too much. Then again it could be doing more harm than good. Don't really know. I'm not dead, so how bad could it be? I feel fine, come to think of it. Might not really be fine though. Might just be used to this state. No symptoms of anything though. Meh. Complacency hasn't harmed me yet.Or at least I don't think it has.

-Mike Romard
~~~~~~~~~~
27.
Approximately five years ago I started to feel tingling in my left shoulder blade area of my back.  It felt like a light tickle and was sporadic in nature.  On one occasion the tingling moved a bit down my arm, the hand went numb and the fingertips were tingling.  Being worried and annoyed by this I made an appointment with my General Practitioner.The symptoms did not lead to any conclusions for him and so I was referred to a specialist.  The specialist took measurements, scans and x-rays and found no real conclusions to the tingling in the shoulder blade.  The one thing that was found was that I have two deteriorating disks in my upper thoracic area (upper back/ lower neck) of my spine.  I was told nothing could be done and that there was no link drawn to my tingling problem, most likely because of the way I described the sensation.

Time passed and the problem would come and go.  I felt it most when sitting for long periods of time, especially at the computer.  Also as the months and years passed the tingling moved from light tickling to a more painful tingle and it became more and more annoying.I decided to go to a Chiropractor for the problem; knowing it was back related.  He was "old school" and he started to use high force (meaning physical manipulation).  We had both thought that the deteriorating disks in the spine where causing a pinched nerve and we wanted to alleviate the problem.  But no luck!

I was fortunate to see a display set up at the mall one day, where a new Chiropractor was showing a new machine that measured muscle tensions,and nerve flow and was offering a free consultation for his practice.  I decided to go to this new Chiropractor and was rewarded with a new take on health and healing.  He taught me about how the body was designed, by God, to be able to fix itself.  he showed me all the connecting nerves from the spine to all the major organs, and showed that the subluxations I had in my back were not only responsible for the nerve problem I was having but also the heart burn problems and a couple of other problems I was having.  I continued to go to him until I went away to school but because his method of adjustment was also high force (physical manipulation), soon after I had left the problems returned.

My biggest revelation came the next summer when I found, once again, a new Chiropractor through a friend of mine who worked for him.  He had the same philosophy about our being able to heal ourselves as my last Chiropractor had but he took it one step farther.  He used a method called Network Spinal Analysis.  In short this method has almost no physical "cracking" of the back/spin.  He teaches you to breath correctly through breathing exercises, stongly recommend you drink three liters of water a day, and promotes a chemical free (i.e. proscription and non prescription drugs) lifestyle.  In the office he aids you by teaching your body how to adjust itself.  Now bare with me, this sounds very hard to believe but I saw it with my own eyes!  A client lays on a table, doing their deep breathing exercises.  He come up to them and with a feather light touch he makes contact with a point in your neck by the base of your skull and another touch at the bottom of the spine,your tail bone.  This teaches your brain and spine to send messages all the way down your spine and to correct any areas where the messages are being stopped because of subluxations (pinched vertebrae).  Once the body starts to learn it will literally self-adjust.  I witnessed people jerking and twisting in uncontrolled movements.  They were not initiated by the person and the person had no control over the movements.  I was fascinating to see the body self healing right in front of me.unfortunately I was only practicing for the summer months, so I did not get into the extent of movements that others were having, but by the end of the summer my neck was self adjusting and best of all the tingling in my back was diminishing.

Today, away at school once again, I am now able to do some of the self healing here so that I do not have all the problems that I did last year.  I can still drink all my water, do my deep breathing exercises and stay away from a chemical lifestyle as best as I can.  The tingling has not totally left me but they have not gotten worse then when I left this summer and they are much better then the years before.  I would rate it as back to when they first started.  This I am pleased with but would only be happier if I could find a Chiropractor out here that practices Network Spinal Analysis.  I do hold a new look on healing now though and I now always include God.

Angela Vardy
~~~~~~~~~~
28.
When I was 13 years old, I was frequently sick to my stomach.  My mother, a nurse ironically, told me it was because I either ate too fast or I was probably faking to get out of going to school the next day.

 Little did she know , I had Appendicitis.  When I started vomiting mid-way through my dinner, however, she knew something was wrong.  As soon as she could, she rushed my ass to the hospital.

 Upon arrival to the hospital, I found myself waiting for a great deal of time in out-patients.  The pain grew worse and after explaining this I still remained in out-patients for another half hour or so.  Finally it was my  turn to see the doctor.  I was taken to a room where the doctor would see me shortly, whatever!  There I sat for another 20 minutes.still in pain.

 Then, to my surprise, a doctor came in to see me.  He asked a few questions then did a couple of tests and, low and behold, told us what was wrong.  I had to go in for an operation.  It was time to have an IV placed in my arm and this part was rough because I hate needles.  For the amount of education needed to do such a task and what they are paid, they just had to make it a nightmare for me.  Not only did it take them quite a few stabs (literally) to get the IV in, they would do it in a way that my vein would bulge, looking as if it were going to blow up.

 After a questionable success of fitting me with the IV, I was prepped, cut into, operated on, and sewn back up.  When I recovered and the sleeping gas wore off, I found out my appendicitis was at a critical stage where a rupture was close.

 I consider myself lucky that I was processed so quickly in the hospital (note the sarcasm).  Any longer and I could have died or just been a little sicker, who knows.

 v3g6@unb.ca
~~~~~~~~~~~
29.
I have always been a very healthy person, never being in the hospital, even having been born at home. Other than a sprained ankle and a broken collar bone in my youth, I have managed to go through life with no major health concerns.

Then suddenly seven years ago I began to experience a variety of allergic reactions to something in my workplace. Some days I could smell something as I walked down the hallway to my office. No one else could smell it and although it caused headaches, runny eyes and sneezing, and nausea for me, no one else complained of any health problems.

I could never exactly figure out what was causing the problem. Working in a large building, with no windows that open and that recycles the air throughout the building, it could be anything so many variables. I was not sick at home in the evenings and on weekends, only certain days at work when I could detect a chemical odour.

I must admit that they were wonderful at work, no one voiced out loud that they thought I was crazy. They had workmen crawling up into the ceilings and checking piping and ventilation, trying to locate a problem. Slowly I began to realize what was causing the problem and it seems to have been related to petroleum based products (tarring the office roof, certain types of paints) and photochemical products (ie certain solvents, and the photocopier).

It seems that I was the canary in the mine as others eventually began to complain that they could smell something and had similar symptoms. None of us took any time off so we were not playing sick for time off, we worked no matter how we felt. Eventually a cause was found to the problem. Our building and the building behind us shared a common wall and there was photocopy center next door. In certain conditions, the negative pressure brought the fumes from next door into our building. By building a false wall and plugging several holes, a workable solution was found

It seems that modern technology and I do not seem to agree as my body has a lower than usual tolerance towards some chemicals. Luckily I live in an older home that is mostly wood and we have been making changes like ripping out carpets and trying not to use chemicals and solvents in the house. I have been able to solve most of the causes but the hardest part was learning what to avoid and what is tolerable. I am trying to avoid building up a resistance to the chemicals that cause me health problems.

Many people have far more serious allergies than myself so I consider myself very lucky to be able to control much of my own solution. Healing for me is a combination of avoidance of the triggers that bother me and acceptance that some chemicals bother my system and there is nothing that I can do about it.

Gail Darby
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30.
When asked to write a story about health and healing based on a personal level, or an intimate relationship with another, the story that comes to mind is that of my mother.

My mom is a forty-six year old single parent. She has raised my younger sister and myself for the last ten years since the divorce between her and my father. As a result, this has made the three of us much closer than many other families. Despite all the stressful and strength testing situations she has encountered, she is a very strong woman with a truly beautiful personality.

For the last twenty-one years, mom has worked as a registered nurse at our community hospital. She has a very medical or scientific, even biological view on health and healing as compared to those with a religious or spiritual view. Her parents raised her with those beliefs and in turn she has dedicated her work towards it.

I was in my first year of university when my told me that she needed to get some tests done. She told me that these tests would reveal if she had breast cancer. This was information that i could not even begin to process.

During the next few weeks, mom had many tests done. She was very shaken up, mostly worried about the worst case scenarios and possibilities about the future she had never thought about before. Then she regained and held her composure. We had a long talk the night before she was supposed to receive the results of her testings. She told me that she had come to the conclusion that she accepted she may have cancer, and it was found fairly early so she was optimistic about possible treatments. We would take it one step at a time.

As it turned out, she did not have cancer. What i consider the healing part of this story to be, is that she had accepted what could have been, yet remained determined to stay positive and believe that things happen for a reason...if it's meant to be, it's meant to be. After the stress and grief, she allowed herself to be in the hands of fate. Sometimes i wonder if the outcome possibly would have been different if she did not.

Bria LeBlanc
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31.
When delving into the topic of illness and healing, a very close member of my family comes to mind. Approximately one year ago, my aunt was hit with the reality of cancer. What seemed like a routine mammogram brought to light a cancerous tumor in her left breast that could not have been detected manually. Upon hearing the news, we were all devastated, scared, and confused but offered our constant love, encouragement and support to my aunt.

Shortly after the mammogram, she was scheduled to undergo a mastectomy to remove the left breast. After her stay in a hospital for a week, the procedure was completed and the breast was sent out for testing. The results indicated that the tumor was quite larger than expected, but luckily it had not spread. Due to its size and type, however, the doctors advised that chemotherapy and radiation would be the next best route in her journey to overcoming cancer. After one month had passed, the four sessions of chemo commenced, and it was this particular form of treatment that proved most traumatic for my aunt. The loss of her long, think hair seemed even more trying to deal with than the loss of one of her breasts. But she was determined to finish the sessions with the support of our family.

Not long after the last session, my aunt was sent to Cleveland for six weeks to undergo radiation due to the shortage of radiologists in Canada. This treatment was quite painful since it burned her skin, but the close company of other cancer patients helped develop close relationships that proved essential to her recovery.

Fortunately, she survived the mastectomy, the chemotherapy, and the radiation, and recent follow-ups indicate only positive results. Although she was noted as a breast cancer survivor, my aunt felt that the healing process was incomplete. The close brush with death prodded her to awaken the spiritual component of her being. She began a journey in search of meaning in her life. Presently, my aunt is very active in the church parish and feels that she is finally at peace. Her changed lifestyle has prepared her to deal with many things she has encountered or will encounter in life. Specifically concerning the breast cancer, my aunt's new found relationship with God has enabled her to heal physically and emotionally with little difficulty.

Carolyn Barnes
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32.
In 1997 I discovered that I was lactose intolerant. Since I had always eaten and enjoyed milk products this came as quite a surprise to me. I thought that being lactose intolerant would have shown up at a much earlier point in my life rather than when I was 20. As many who are lactose intolerant, I made changes to my diet and began taking pills, lactaid, to ease the symptoms.

At the same time I was becoming increasingly involved with homeopathy and naturopathy over conventional medicine. I have always had difficulties with prescription and over-the-counter medications, even cough syrup, and so decided a more holistic approach to medical treatment was better for me. A book on the health and healing of illness in women was recommended to me and in it there was a section on chakras. Chakras are the energy centers within the body and each chakra is connected to emotional or mental responses. Also connected to each chakra are physical dysfunctions that result from an imbalance of energy within the chakra. I was having problems with my stomach; I was unable to properly break down the natural sugars in milk. The chakra that is connected with the stomach is also connected to feelings of self-confidence, responsibilities, whether or not I was competent, and boundaries that were placed upon me.

As things changed in my life and as I created changes in particular aspects of my life, my lactose intolerance gradually reduced. The changes I made allowed me to balance the energy within the chakra and thus the illness went away. The healing occurred as a result of changes to parts of my life that were unhealthy. It has been two years since I have taken any pills to ease the effects of lactose intolerance and I am able to eat milk products again. My illness was connected to my life and emotional well being. As those changed and healed, my illness went away.

Caroline Jeppesen
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33.
During the summer after grade 12, I got a rather painful throat infection. My doctor put me on antibiotics, which minimized the pain, but did not totally eliminate it. Once I was finished the medication, I noticed that if I tilted my head to one side, a large lump would pop out of my neck. Naively, I thought that it was just some odd little thing that I never noticed before. A few days later, I didn't have to tilt my head quite so far to see the lump. I showed my mom, who was rather concerned, and she insisted that I go to the doctor the following day on my lunch break from work.

By Monday morning, I didn't have to tilt my head at all to see the two golf balls protruding from my neck. My doctor was rather shocked and could not explain my condition. She gave me a new medication and instructed me to stay home from work and to return to see her everyday that week. Needless to say, five consecutive doctor's appointments worried my mother further. By the time Friday's appointment rolled around, my neck was swollen to a size literally larger than my head, I was having trouble swallowing, and I was easily becoming short of breath. When I walked into the doctor's office that day, I looked and felt like hell. When I had gone in on Monday, I arrived by myself, dressed in business attire, and looking rather made up. By Friday, I was without makeup, my hair was a total mess, I was wearing jogging pants, and my boyfriend had to walk beside me and actually support me, as I was so weak from climbing the steps up to her office. My doctor was obviously disappointed in my failing condition and, as she was going away for the weekend, wanted to admit me to the hospital. Moments later she decided against that as she realized that my immune system was weak, and she "guaranteed" I'd catch pneumonia. She opted to admit me to the day hospital, where I would have to go for one hour, every six hours, to receive IV drugs.

Once I arrived at the hospital, they informed me that the day hospital had changed, and I wouldn't have to hang out there in the middle of the night. I ended up having to wear an IV constantly, and carry a fanny pack 24 hours a day with a little computer in it that gave me my medication as prescribed.

It was the middle of the summer after graduationàmy friends were going camping and on road trips, and I was home in bed with a stupid little computer that beeped a lot. The worst part through the whole thing was when an air bubble that was in the IV bag went into my vein. It was probably the most intense pain that I have ever had. It felt as though a lot curling iron was being held on my arm from the site of the needle up to my elbow.

After a week of IV, the swelling eventually went down and I got back m normal strength. We still aren't sure what virus I had, or where it came from. It's a pretty scary situation when the doctor doesn't know what the problem is, and prescribed hit or miss remedies.

Jane Donahue
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34.
It was a dreary Thursday afternoon, when I got the phone call. Have you ever had the feeling that you just know something is going to go wrong? I think that this was one of those times. There just seemed to be something eerie overcoming me. It was around suppertime, when I found out that my father had a heart attack, and had a slight chance of surviving

It's strange how one seems to find themself in a tragedy. I for one, think that this incident opened my eyes to my immunity. I got promised myself right there and then that if my father recovered, I would take better care of myself, and find myself.

After an extended period of time, of being petrified, my father was finally pronounced recovered, and he was out of the hospital within a month. I know that there was a miracle behind his recovery.

After having this close call, my entire family decided that it was time to take measures to look after ourselves, and be thankful for all we are given.

I think that this incident was a blessing in disguise. I believe in fate, and everything happening for a reason. Today, my father is a brand new man, he is in top shape, he works out, and he is in touch with his spiritual self. This has affected my entire family, as we are all now extremely close and spiritual.

Stephanie Arbeau
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35.
The summer of 1998 was when my fiancé began to notice a couple of small open sores on the back of his neck. However, he was very unconcerned and just thought it would go away on its own, until three months later he decided he would go to the doctor, because they were slowly multiplying.

However, the doctor was rather useless, he was not sure what it was and scheduled him for another doctor two hours away. My fiance was shuffled back and forth between doctors for approximately seven months. During these seven months he took many treatments and medications which seemed to make everything worse. His hair became thinner, he had blurred vison, nosebleeds and sometimes the corners of his lips would crack and bleed. He also became extremely tired and missed a lot of work. However, he remained very strong and did not blame God for what was happening but prayed more often. His family, friends and myself would always pray that he would be healed.

I believe that a miracle happened, because there are only scars remaining. The doctors eventually diagnosed him as having no sweat glands in his neck, and is the second person in Canada to have this disease. My fiancé and myself do believe that the most beneficial factor in the healing process was God. It is also important to say that the disease is not the only thing that was healed!

Fay MacTavish
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36.
My story of somebody having an illness and it being healed is of somebody who was close to my family. She had a brain tumour which affected her memory. She pretty much lost her short term memory. She could remember something that happened a long time ago but could not remember something that happened earlier that day. Sometimes she couldn't even remember her close friends and family's names. To treat this illness they used chemo-therapy. This type of treatment made all of her hair fall off. She went through a series of these treatments. I do not know how long these treatments went on but I know that they did not work. She was still sick. She was forgetting people's names that she has known for years. I think that she realized that she was sick, then came acceptance. I think that being aware of an illness makes you healed rather than cured because she did not get better she later died of that brain tumour but she accepted it and through her point of view she was healed because she accepted her disease and knew she was going to die from it. I think that acceptance is like being healed because in your mind you are not fighting to be in control of the disease anymore you are accepting your fate.

Joel Pothier
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37.
      It was back 10 or 12 years ago that my mother had cancer in the breast,when the doctor told her this she was very scared and frightened.The doctor told her that they got the cancer in time,and assured her that she would be all right.So my mom went all through the procedures to try and overcome this illness .My mother is very strong hearted women, and to see her go through all those treatments ,she reacted to the treatments very well .She has hope ,faith and believes that she beat the cancer ,and goes down to Saint John to get x-rayed to see of it has come back but as i sit here it never came back yet .As a family we do believe in the great spirit or the creator, and I thank him every morning that I get up.To my mother she believes that in her heart that she is cured from this deadly disease.To me to see her in all this circumstances and had gone through all this with her I know in my heart that she did beat it ,along with healing process which was tough enough to go through togather as I family.

Jeffrey polches sr
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38.
As I didn't attend last Tuesday's class, I shall attempt to write this without the benefit of my classmates' comments. I don't have much personal experience with illness other than the occasional flu or cold that almost never lasts more than a week. My most memorable injury was when I was about 18. In an attempt to see how much weight I could bench- press, I injured (pulled a muscle or something) my neck quite seriously because I wasn't doing it properly. I was unable to move my neck at all for about a week without severe pain despite a healthy dose of painkillers, and after about a month everything was mostly back to normal. What makes this incident quite memorable is that every couple of years or so I get reminded with a relapse which isn't quite as bad as the original incident but still enough to immobilize me for a few days. The thing that I find most interesting about this is the concept of pain. When you are pain, it's difficult to remember the absence of it, and when you aren't experiencing pain it is difficult to remember exactly how it felt. At least that's how it seems to me. I'm not sure if this qualifies as a story of illness, as the word seems to imply a virus or infection not an injury caused by carelessness, however it may be of some use to the class discussion.

-Ben Bourque
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39.
I don't really have a story about healing that is either tellable or interesting. I have always had problems breathing, and my spiritual practices are a large part of the way I came to interact with and understand my body because of that has given me ways to make me feel a million times better, but there isn't much story to it. I went to doctors and got medication, but it did absolutely nothing (I didn't get any cool weird side effects) and I still got sick and was incapacitated a couple of times a month by every little bug that came around. I guess in this case we're talking about healing, because my health problems still exist, but I've learned to offset them because I was able to make sense of them within my spiritual framework, which then provided both the reasons and the means to change my situation. I believe that the only way to be at peace in life is to know that you are doing your best with the things that mattered to you. For me, that required me to function on a level that, because of my constant sickness, was far beyond me, six years ago, when this began. I've always been careful, because I could see where something like this could become self-defeating if I set unrealistic goals for myself, so it requires a very delicate balance. Doing that and living like this has given me a thoughtful perspective on my physical condition that makes "curing" easier when sickness arrives, because I am prepared to deal with it.

Ryan Murray
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40.
It is difficult for me to write about my most significant illness because it is quite recent. My illness began as a physical one. I had a wide array of symptoms that I sought help from my General Practitioner to relieve. I tried many prescription drugs and underwent a lot of testing. Unfortunately I was not aware of the real problem. In retrospect, I feel I should have realized that I had emotional problems and I am ashamed to say that until going through extensive therapy, memories of traumatic events were buried in my unconscious mind.

When I suffered migraines, irritable bowel syndrome, frequent vomiting, insomnia, panic attacks or mood swings, I felt as if somehow I were being punished. In reality, these illnesses were a way of my body trying to warn me that my life was on the wrong path. Repressed memories were eating away at me but since I saw my body and my "self" as separate, I could not figure out what was happening to me. At one point, I became convinced that I had a brain tumor. My doctor thought it was a real possibility and I was relieved at this prospect. I needed a reason for my symptoms in order to make sense of them and I looked forward to the possibility of death. The line between physical pain and emotion pain became thinner and thinner until I completely succumbed to depression.

This would be a good time to explain that I was also under a lot of stress at work and at night, when I returned home, the stress was even worse. I've always thought that my home should be my sanctuary but it was far from it. My partner and I fought constantly. It seemed he hated me but why he would not leave, I could not fathom. He claimed that it was guilt. He did not believe that I could survive without him. The more his resentment grew, the more I hated myself. I believed I was a bad person; that I had failed at life or at least the one I wanted to live and now I was ruining his...and his rage grew.

I was sick all the time now and very confused. All I knew was pain and when every medical test showed no reason for my symptoms, I was devastated. I felt cursed; doomed to exist this way forever. And I had nobody that I could talk to about this. There was no compassionate ear...no shoulder to cry on...no friends anymore and I now lived with a stranger. There was no trace left of the person that I had once fallen in love with. I believed, as did he, that I had brought out the worst in him. Over the course of two years, my soul weakened. It might be easier to think of this as a loss of self esteem but I think it was much more than that. My identity was transformed. This physical pain, the yelling and the violence was too much for me so I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills in May 2001 in the hopes that in a second life, I might be successful at being me.

I woke up in the Psych Ward at the DECH. This was to be my second chance. My new life began that day. Since then, I've had to struggle with some difficult realizations. The biggest being repressed memories in relation to my partner. He was quite satisfied with my current situation. Since I was in a "psych ward", going through therapy, all of his guilt dissipated. The blame was mine. He seemed happy again for the first time in months. This made it easier for me to leave him as lover and friend. Ironically, it was once he was removed from my life that I began to remember experiences with him - the repressed memories mentioned above. I was filled with anger. It was difficult for me to deal with the fact that violence was committed against me and I simply forgot it. I wasn't strong enough to handle the situation. I felt so ashamed. And now he wasn't even around to lash out at. What good was all of this anger with no way to vent it?

The last six months have been send journeying deep inside myself or as the course describes it, "healing." The process is far from over but I have made peace with it. I've discovered my own value. I've also discovered what therapies work best for me. I took an active role in my own recovery, experimenting with hypnotism, meditation, yoga and I rekindled my interest in herbalism, crystal healing, astrology and the use of essential oils. I feel as if I am learning things that I already knew, but had forgotten. My beliefs and morals are becoming more defined every day. My importantly, I've embraced my Celtic heritage and nurtured the child within. I am discovering my true self. And guess what? I don't have headaches anymore.

Cheryl Braun
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
41.
Maybe I poked a pimple the wrong way, I don't know, but there it was, right in the space between my eyes but just above the bridge of my nose -- a red blotch about the size of a quarter. At first, I didn't worry about it. It was summer. I didn't have to be in classes. Few people saw me.

As August came to a close, however, the thing began to spread. I put "stuff" on it -- hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic cream, rubbing alcohol (!) -- I thought it was an infection. It covered more of my forehead, apparently in response. People started asking me about this thing on my face. I joked about it: "It was my third eye," I said, but I was worried. And I disliked looking different; I disliked standing out; heck, I disliked having a huge ugly red sore in the middle of my forehead. I found it distressing to look at my face in the mirror.

I went to my doctor. He was on vacation, but his very competent substitute (who I swear was eleven or twelve years old) prescribed a cream, and started the referral process so I could see a dermatologist. The cream didn't work. After a couple of months I got to see the dermatologist. He gave the thing a name, a long name. I memorized it while finding out about it on the web: Jessners Benign Lymphocytic Infiltrate. "Jessner" was the guy who first identified it (in the 1960s I think); "benign" is a good word as it's code for not- cancer; "lymphocytic" means it has to do with the lymphatic system I think; and "infiltrate" I don't remember. On the 'net I found pictures of people with the same thing, only the red sores were all over their faces. The calm I'd felt when my thing had been named disappeared when I realized there was no cure and it could get even worse.

It didn't get worse, however. The red blotch settled into its space on my forehead. I started to get used to it. I rhymed off its name to anyone who showed the least bit of interest. And eventually, as a result of the dermatologist's referral, I got to see a plastic surgeon who was going to take a biopsy. Why a biopsy? Because the dermatologist wasn't sure that my thing was a Jessners etcetera etcetera. The plastic surgeon cut a chunk out and send the results to the dermatologist. He arranged a hospital photographer to take my thing's picture, and next I knew he was shopping my red sore around at conferences in Halifax and Moncton. It turned out that I didn't have Jessners and I didn't have cancer, but what I had was a mystery. I'd memorized that long name for nothing.

Perhaps I had rosacea, perhaps it was sarciodosis granulomatous. Apparently I didn't want to have this latter illness; it was nasty. The facial sore would be just the tip on an iceberg that would be ravaging my lungs. I had a chest x-ray and some blood tests. I didn't have the nasty disease. And rosacea was a kind of intense acne, but the photos on the 'net of people with this didn't fit my face either.

I had started trying cures that were not part of the modern medical culture. I have often gone to a chiropractor, but about my red blotch she had no suggestions. I asked at the whole food store and got some alternate creams and a special tea, but these had no effect I could see. I have often gone to sweat lodge ceremonies done by Maliseets, the First Nations people who have lived longest in this part of the world. While these ceremonies are powerful and helped me in other ways, they did not cure my facial sore. My daughter, who has found alternate healing methods very helpful, asked her doctor who suggested a particular healer in Moncton. He was out of town, so I made an appointment with his partner.

I often thought about this sore as my "third eye," but now I joked that it wasn't open. My wife told me she didn't notice the thing. The dermatologist was prescribing stronger and stronger steroid creams. I was beginning to think I might have the thing forever.

March break came. The dermatologist started on what was to be a regime of steroid injections directly into the sore, or rather, around its periphery. He started with one injection, telling me that we would see how it worked, and increase the number if necessary. Too many at once, he warned, and I could have a concave dent (or hole) in my forehead as the steroids caused the tissue to shrink too much. I didn't go back.

I sensed that the sore was retreating. I had taken to asking the thing to leave, especially when I was looking in a mirror. I was pretty sure it was having an effect, but I wondered if I was just getting desperate. The visit to the healer in Moncton turned out to be, well, strange. He was a specialist in three kinds of diagnostic techniques, one was a kind of intense foot massage, another was iridology, reading one's irises, and the third was "muscle testing." He would, he said, try to "see if my body was crying out for something." The foot- and iris-based diagnosis was based on the idea that some parts of the body can be maps for the whole body. By checking for sensitive or sore areas of my feet, for example, the healer could determine the health of my spleen, or liver, or heart or whatever. Similarly, he could, by looking into my eye, specifically my iris, draw a map that would give information of the health of my whole body. After about an hour or more of testing, he didn't really come up with anything related to my sore. I had enjoyed the experience, although I remained skeptical, I was no more a doubter of this healer than I had been of the dermatologist. The muscle testing came next. He brought in a tray of herbal medicines, the kind you see in whole food stores. The tray was big. Perhaps thirty-five pill bottles of all sizes along with a couple of small jugs of liquid jammed the cafeteria-sized tray. At the herbalist's instruction I gripped each of these in turn in my right hand and held it to my chest. Then I flexed my left arm while he took my left and tried to lower it, while asking me to resist a bit. He thus measured, he said, my need for each medication. If he could push my hand down easily, I needed the medicine. If I resisted successfully, I didn't need it. I expressed my doubt about this procedure to the herbalist. How did it work? He said some things that didn't seem particularly helpful; he didn't seem to have a grasp on the underlying vision of bodily health and illness that undergird this practice. Seeing that I was going to be prescribed all the medicines that I "needed," and knowing they would be expensive, I began resisting in earnest. I was pretty successful at this as my outrage grew. Blue Cross was not going to pay for this stuff; I was. Eventually I managed to escape with only a small shopping bag of medicine. I took this medicine until it was gone. I did not go back for a follow-up.

By this time, I was more and more certain that the red sore was decreasing in size. I had increased the frequency of my healing strategy of asking it to leave; I did it as often as I remembered to, sometimes right in the middle of class. These requests became a regular part of my day -- a brief pause, a settling, and then a silent request politely asking the thing to go away -- there was no doubt in my mind that I was ritualizing the routine. And, for whatever reason, my forehead was getting better.

It was in July, about a year after the whole thing began, that the last of the sore closed up and stayed closed. I have still a pink spot between my eyes, the exact shape of the sore that was with me for most of a year. Now, six months after the thing went away, I am not sure about what it all meant. Why did I have to get this ugly red sore on my forehead? Why now? And why did it go away?

I wondered at the time, and I still wonder today, what was I supposed to learn from this thing? I figure I was supposed to learn something about vanity, about ego-driven concern for appearances. I was ugly to my own eyes for about a year. This could not help but teach me something about disfigurement -- little kids in the grocery store would point and ask their parents what was wrong with me. I was reminded of the parts of my life when I've had very long hair. Except that I could cut my hair. Some friends, women mostly, suggested I use makeup. It didn't seem appropriate, somehow. If was supposed to be learning something, my thinking went, it would only take me longer if I cover the damn thing up. But I wonder if that's what my illness was about: learning something. I guess that's my assumption: that whatever happens I can learn from it, and that, in itself, has value.

Thom Parkhill
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42.
When I was about five years old I caught pneumonia. I don't remember being sick before that. Most of my memories of the sickness are intense and clear sensations in the middle of a swirl of thoughts, dreams, and images. I remember a fairly steady heat all over my body, intense tiredness, and an occasional cool wet cloth on my forehead. I don't remember seeing more than blurs and sometimes my moms hands when she changed my cloth, propped me up and fed me vegetable soup or beef broth. My mother told me that soup, broth and soda crackers would make me get better so ever since then I've associated those foods with healing. Also, gentle back massages with cool lotion were done daily and helped me fall asleep. All the things that soothed the pain and discomfort I still associate with healing. Later in life I question whether those things healed only because I believed and was told they would. I think that at the time, knowing I was under the care of (to me) an all knowing, wise and caring healer, i had absolute faith in the methods. Maybe this faith helped me battle the sickness better. When, later in my life, the Christian God was introduced to me in much the same light as I saw my mother I struggled with associating the sensations I got from her with a Man/God that had never given me any sensations as far as I could tell.

Amanda Chase
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43.
How do we know we are ill? Typically we have specific symptoms that leave us little doubt. Once these symptoms are verified by an expert and a name is put to our unease, our illness is recognized. But what happens during the space in between our discomfort and formal recognition? I have been tired for most of my life. While fatigue may not seem like an illness, it can be debilitating. When my memory started failing, I assumed I was the world's youngest Alzheimer's patient. When I finally went to the doctor I was told that nothing was wrong. How was this possible? I could so evidently feel that something was wrong with my body, but all science available to me told me I was wrong. After feeling ill for several more years I went to another doctor. Again, she couldn't come up with any verifiable reason for the way I was feeling, but suggested that I might have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Her only available treatment was a strong anti-depressant. I declined the offer, wondering at the desire to prescribe medication strong enough to make Winnie the Pooh's Eyor a raving optimist for something that "might be wrong." The experience left me feeling very weak and strangely ashamed. Ashamed that my situation might be due to my inability to deal with life, or a failing in my character. Weak, because I couldn't simply "overcome" how I was feeling.

Several years later I was living in a different city and visited a clinic specializing in Chronic Fatigue. The doctor felt certain that I wasn't suffering from it and asked me questions like, "How is your love life?" The worst part of an illness is not knowing what is wrong, the second worst is being demeaned by it. The doctor suggested that I buy colourful clothing and go for long walks. By her attitude, she may as well have offered me a rubber room.

The combined experiences of being ill and the attitude of doctors left me alienated from my body. I saw it as something apart from myself and as my enemy. I felt I was at the limits of Western medicine. With a little hope and a hint of desperation I went to see a holistic practitioner. For over an hour she asked questions and listened to what I had to say. I half-expected to hear something akin to the fact that the colours of my aura were off. I half-thought I would be willing to seek treatment for it. Instead, her response to my situation was, "I don't understand your problem. It is so clearly your blood sugar levels that I don't understand why your doctor didn't see it." This woman had performed no tests on me. She came to her conclusion merely by listening. While I was dubious about her diagnosis, I felt validated by her response and attitude of respect to what I had told her.  I bought myself a glucometer and found that she was completely right. All of these years it had been a simple matter of rapidly swinging sugar levels and the not so simple complications that arise from it.

My experience leaves me believing that healing is expedited by community. Not that  community necessarily heals you, but it can allow mental and emotional space for healing to take place. A large part of the healing I received came because my experience was recognized and validated.

This treatment not only changed my life because it helped me name and heal what was happening in my body but it, as well as the attitude of the practitioner, also mentally restored my body to me. I no longer saw it as my enemy, but as an integral part of my being that cannot be separated from who I am. Integrating the body into life even with all its fallibilities brings wholeness.

Shelly Archibald
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44.
  My experience with illness started when I was 8 years old.I was diognosed with a case of the common cold, when I started to cough, and wheeze all day long. My mother whom is a nuse felt that my sickness was not simply a common cold due to the fact that I was not a child that was very sick often.

  Then one night I woke up from my sleep and I was gagging and couldn't breath I just keep gasping for air, I ran to my mother's room and she woke and rushed me to the hospital,where they gave me oxygene for the night. I was then admitted to the hospital for what would be the next two months, where they had not idea what was exactly wong with me.

  Finally just before christmas I was swiched over to the IWK hospital in halifax, where they found that I had a rare diasese called a acute neufmarlien-nephritice. Which basically means that my kindeys do not function properly and that they were actually pumping fluid into my lungs, which was slowing drowning me, and loosing my breath.  I was realeased for christams, and was almost back to my complete health. I was not scared at my whole inless experience, because I was not completely aware of the seriousness of it's cause. My main concern was why I had to miss my friends birthday parties, and what type of finger puppet I could get that day after my blood test.   The healing prossess on the other hand has been a long one. I have to be very aware of all foods that I eat from now on, and I cannot do little things that I perhaps would have liked to do as I get older, such as drink excessivly,for many days unend. And when I do get ill it's usually do to the fact that I have eaten wrong or joined in my friends,in their drinking sprees. Yet these are my choices which are effective to my healing process.

Jane MacDonald
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45.
There is a lady that I know very well and just recently I heard her tell a story.  This, in my interpretation, is this story.  To keep things simple, I'll call her Mary.

After being married for less than a year, mary's newlywed husband became ill.  At first it did not seem too serious, although he was losing weight and food seemed to pass right through him.  However, instead of getting better, his condition grew worse.  As more and more unrelated symptoms began to show in his body  he was flown to a major US hospital to have tests done in an effort to find the cause of his situation.  To everyones horror it was discovered that Mary's husband had an incurable terminal disease.  Only a year later this man died, leaving behind his young wife and two small children.

Mary began to adjust to her life as a widow in the midst of mourning her husband's death, while also learning the pressures of being a single parent.  Just as things began to look hopeful for Mary, she also began to get sick.  Over the next few months she began to show the same symptoms that her husband had just a year earlier.  Although she chose to not get 'officialy' labled as ill by a doctor, Mary realised that she had the same disease that she had watched her husband die of.

Over time, she grew sicker and sicker as more ailments afflicted her body.  However, in spite of all she was going through, she chose to not recieve any perscritions that doctors, and others recommended.  Instead, she turned to her Christian faith.  She began to study the Bible to discover what God had to say about healing her body.  As she began to trust God's promises more and more, she grew stronger and stronger.  Over the next few years, she depended on God for the life that she was holding onto and the miraculous touch that she desperately needed.

I am glad to say that this story took place more than 13 years ago, and today, Mary is healthier than she has ever been.  Her healing did not take place over night, it was actually a process of a couple of years.  However, she no longer has the disease that was labeled 'fatal' and 'incurable'.  She thanks Jesus every day for her gift of healing, and so do I.

Nathan Atcheson
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