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