In the late 1970’s my mother, a perfectly healthy woman in her early 30’s, was diagnosed with “breast cancer” by a top OBGYN in Iran. The mammogram revealed a dot in her left breast. Suffice to say, it was devastating not only to her but my entire family. My dear father, desperate to do anything in his power to save her from this dreaded “disease”, took her to all the top oncologists in Western Europe and North America. The consensus was to cut/burn/poison (mastectomy/radiation/chemotherapy). We were told that the holy trinity of oncology had worked. It was a miracle. The “cancer” was in remission.
It wasn’t that simple, of course. The specialists had to monitor her “disease” and the administration of continued “strategic doses” of chemotherapy. My poor father spent roughly $1.5 million on plane fare, hotel accommodations and astronomical medical fees (no healthcare insurance). The more chemotherapy she received, the sicker she got. At a certain point she decided not to take the pills anymore. Shortly thereafter her condition dramatically improved. She hid the pills and pretended she was taking them as prescribed. Can you imagine the guilt she must have felt? Her husband was spending top dollar on meds she wasn’t even taking. She felt she had to keep it a secret from everyone because no one in the family would understand (I come from a family of doctors - both sides through blood and marriage). They would all tell her to follow the doctor’s orders. But her body was telling her otherwise.
Long story short, our housekeeper found the stash of meds, a big brouhaha ensued and my mom was back on the meds again. In a year or two the “cancer” was back in full force. Again, the consensus was to cut/burn/poison. Not surprisingly, her condition severely deteriorated. The “cancer” had “metastasized.” She was “terminal.” Seeing as her mother and siblings lived in the States my father decided to leave behind a lucrative business, home and practically all possessions in Tehran and move our family to the City of Angels where she could be surrounded by her loved ones in her dying days. This was at the height of the Iran Contra Affair no less. Good times. She finally succumbed to “cancer” on 7-11-87.
Fast forward to the mid 1990’s. I’m about to graduate high school and have to do the obligatory career counselor meeting thing.
Counselor: What do you see yourself doing for the rest of your life?
Me: I want to become a landscape architect.
Counselor: What?! Are you insane? With your GPA? I highly recommend you become a doctor or lawyer.
Those are the only two logical paths “smart” people pursue after all, right?
Law was out. I despise debates. The whole concept of being able to successfully argue both sides of a case was a huge turn-off. Forget the merits; it’s all about honing your persuasion skills. No thank you! (No offence meant, SCS/fbenario)
Medicine, on the other hand, was slightly more appealing. One of my mom’s dying wishes was for me to become a doctor. Contrary to popular belief, doctors know next to nothing about the medications they prescribe. Pharmaceutical research is where all the action’s at. So I did the pre-med thing with the aspirations of becoming a pharmaceutical researcher and “finding the cure for cancer.” Oh the naivety.
By the second semester of my junior year in college I began to see the medical system for the sham that it was/is. It was a little late in the game to change majors. I considered dropping out but decided against it due to societal pressures. Went through the motions, got my degree and threw it in a closet. It’s an expensive worthless piece of paper as far as I’m concerned.
If you’re a pre-med student with the aspirations of becoming an M.D. and/or Ph.D. you’re constantly worried about three things; GPA, MCAT scores and last but certainly not least professor recommendations. Professor recommendations are key. They can make or break you. Everyone knows it. Seeing as they only give out a handful of recommendations per graduating class student conformity is ensured. You’re so preoccupied with making the grade and making a good impression that you don’t have the time to think let alone learn anything worth knowing. But I digress.
Back to mammograms. They’re not only useless but dangerous and should be avoided at all costs. They’ve been around since 1969. Look into the number of “breast cancer” diagnoses pre/post 1969 and connect the dots folks. It doesn’t take a “genius” to figure it out.
I can back up my stance with detailed sourcing. It’ll take me some time to do so. It’s a sore subject for me and I really don’t look forward to it. I think there are enough critical thinkers in this forum who can pursue this matter if they so choose.
I wish you all a Merry Christmas, happy holidays and a happy New Year.
The following article is a good start but you have to go through a lot of weeds to pick out the few flowers.
Experts Now Advise Against Mammograms for Breast Cancer Screening
https://articles.mercola.com/sites/arti ... grams.aspx