Keith's View

My Gerson Journey Part Two

This was the first indicator that something was tickling the foundations of my temple. A hair mineral test revealed antimony way above the safe level, uranium was also flashing red, and so were thallium and arsenic. What with all that and castor oil used to detox this shit it’s no wonder my arse feels like its on fire!

Antimony is toxic. Thallium is known as the poisoner’s poison due to it being colourless, odourless, tasteless, slow acting, painful and of course poisonous. The symptoms it causes are wide-ranging. Arsenic and uranium are, well, arsenic and uranium. Hardly the excess of calcium and iron one might hope for when getting ones levels tested.

Then came this from the pathology lab after they analysed my extracted, swollen lymph gland in July...

Cancer. Non-Hodgkin’s follicular lymphoma. Blood cancer. And this, perhaps the most significant finding in light of the fact that the quacks seem to have no idea where all this cancer afflicting humanity comes from:

“In addition some black pigment is present within the lymph node. The cause of this pigment is not certain but it might represent black tattoo pigment.

My ‘material’ was then referred to King’s College Hospital for an expert opinion, which basically agreed:

“…black pigment seen suggesting tattoo”

Curious, no? I think so, but at this point all scientific curiosity and conventional medical investigation came to an abrupt end and I was essentially sent home to die. No consultation about reversing my problem by removing the cause or using the information gathered from my material to help others. This is what they left me to conclude: It may well be the tattoo inks that gave you an incurable form of blood cancer; we don’t really care. But do pop back when you need something for the pain. They tell me: “This type of lymphoma is not curable with treatment but plenty of treatment is available…” There’s that word again. Treatment. In other words we have loads of utterly useless but very expensive pharmaceutical products for you to see out your days but we can’t actually help you. Plenty! And no, drinking carrot juice will not help you, silly. We haven’t researched the subject of nutrition and health very much at all since Hippocrates said it was a good idea, in fact much less than you, we just know cos we are clever scientists and doctors and consultants who have passed some tests and we have certificates on the wall and letters after our names to prove it. See ya later.

Tattoo in lymph nodes, which are awash with cancerous cells. Coincidence? We do love to think of everything as a coincidence but there comes a time when it might be prudent to look deeper.

My mum knew this was an issue too, bless her! Probably not quite what the real issue was but she knew the tattoos were a bad idea. She said they spoiled the look of my beautiful arms but what do the old fogies know; parents are so out of touch. They said no I said yes! They didn’t always get it right of course and neither did I.

I had no reason to question the safety, the government wouldn’t allow it if it were harmful, right? Opposite of the truth. Always! There is no regulation of tattoo inks, not that government regulations make anything safe. Not that I blame anyone else as it was my decision to have them and since so many other people seemed to be doing ok and looking cool with their tattoos it seemed like a good idea to me even if it took some time to get the designs right, not that I ever really did. Covering up my home drawn ‘Sue’ with a spider after we went our separate ways and my home made Danger Mouse with an equally tacky stock design from the tattoo shop should have been a sign I wasn’t meant to do this but I’d started something I needed to finish.

When I found that the pain was manageable, even somehow enjoyable, that one wasn’t enough, that the other arm needs to be balanced, I just carried on. And then of course having just the lower arms decorated leaves this area at the top looking bare. Before you know it or before I knew it all six areas were covered - shoulders, biceps and forearms. At that point I decided I was whole. However, while Danger Mouse had been buried, I had helped to create a monster. I am happy with the design of most of them but with hindsight I probably shouldn’t have bothered. That said maybe there is a good reason why I did. I’m not big on coincidences.

I now lean to the view that there tend to be multiple factors involved in creating cancer. The tattoos may well be one, a poor diet another, or a virus and perhaps the cocktail of highly toxic metals in my mouth and clogging my cells make up the critical combination. Maybe it was induced. I speculate, and wander.

Alice’s Nan had a stroke in early May of 2013 and for the following 5 weeks we spent between her council flat and visiting her in the hospital teasing her back to health. This was both very trying watching her struggle and very rewarding when she responded. We lost the battle however due in no small part to the glaring limitations of the treatment available. She spent nearly three days without a drip, which didn’t help matters. When I raised this with the duty doctor, without describing it as a terrible omission for a ‘top’ hospital caring for a 90 year old stroke victim, she became really defensive and tried to tell me it wasn’t a problem and would be sorted out “later” and off she trotted to some meeting. Later? She didn’t get to her meeting before we had another chat, which was not so cordial. Without going into the details of the ensuing exchange Gladys was given fluid much sooner than later and she had half a chance. Anyway I wander again but mention this because its part of this bizarre medical mystery tour we have been on and for 5 weeks were in a hospital surrounded by very poorly people, so my swollen neck glands were easily explained away in my mind by a virus. A reasonable conclusion but wishful thinking is not always enough. So far there appears to be no sign of a virus. The drenching night sweats I’d had on and off for some months were another indicator that something wasn’t right. And then there was the weight loss. Alice had done some research and she knew deep down what was likely going on and got me to see a doctor. The doctor was on the ball and pretty hasty in her moves, so was the consultant who booked an urgent trip to theatre for Keith. Only me in denial at this stage and still hoping he meant I was going to see a movie. Any old shite would have done!

Turns out I have some weird stuff floating around my body, some of which can be explained by the tattoo’s, such as antimony and arsenic can you believe. Yes they are in the ink mix and if you do some rooting for yourself you will find a whole host of other nasties in the inks and carriers, which really shouldn’t be injected into people.

Given the deep cleanse of the Gerson Therapy and its march to remove all toxins from the body it becomes an imperative to have all those extremely toxic amalgam fillings removed too or the body will have to go through the task of pulling the mercury and all the other crap they are made of through your system for disposal. That will of course take time and add further burden and so it is advisable to force that issue at the dentist. Of course this has to be done privately since the system still refuses to accept what they have been doing to us for the last 100 years by fixing mercury into children’s heads, mercury which must be by law treated as dangerous, toxic material before it is inserted and as soon as it is removed but not while it’s in there! These people are insane but we allow them to get away with it. The mercury removal must also be performed very carefully to avoid any ingestion of material or fumes and it must be done slowly over many months.

I’m not entirely sure how to explain the thallium and uranium I have floating around my temple, perhaps some kind of alchemical reaction takes place when you mix up a big heap of crap insert it into an active biological entity and let it ferment over time. Perhaps the nightmare still pouring out of Fukushima or the other nuclear power plants and the chemtrails they are spraying from planes across the world ‘to fight global warming’ have something to do with it. And they want to build more nuclear plants and spray more chemicals into the atmosphere to help fighting global warming, which is now apparently causing the planet to cool? They have yet to win any of the fights they start, be it against cancer, street drugs, crime, ‘terror’ or whatever yet we are allowing them to poison all life on this planet in a war against natural phenomenon which is also causing dramatic weather effects on other planets in our solar system.


You have to laugh or you might well become as insane as they are.

Who knows how I came by my collection of junk, but getting rid of it is my priority and repairing the serious damage. Blood cancers tend to lean more toward toxicity than deficiency but Gerson views the cause of disease as due to a body deficient in the necessary fuel to prevent disease taking hold so it a bit of both we need to encompass.

Unlike the nightmare many people have achieving a name for their illness my diagnosis was efficiently and expertly discovered and confirmed within a week. No hope of a virus, sadly. Blood cancer, sadly. Incurable they call it, which is kinda weird since they can’t cure most cancer, hence the insane amount of money raised in search of a cure and the rather tragic body count while we wait. Anyway, being told to do nothing left the door wide open for me to do something without the kind of conflict patients tend to have when saying no thanks to the orthodox treatment on offer. Enter Max Gerson, the magician whose work we had discovered some time ago when researching the fascinating world of hidden knowledge which the closed minded love to label as theoretical. Well, this theory suppressed as it is and ridiculed is backed up with ample evidence and sound logic and when you knuckle down and study how this whole thing came to pass and what it represents you begin to grasp the fantastic magnitude of the Gerson Therapy.

Let’s wander some more.

It was the first of April 1933. Shortly before dawn broad expanses of field in lower Saxony vanished behind screens of billowing smoke from the Berlin-Vienna express. The train had slipped out of the capital station of the Third Reich at 02.24. It now approached the Czech border at 70mph.

Suddenly the train brakes shrieked, long and hideously.

“What the hell’s going on?” the customs guard raised his hand to his holster. “Never stopped here before!”

As the train was brought to a halt in open countryside, the passengers became aware that something was terribly amiss.

Amidst shouted commands, they could hear the sound of skidding rubber tires, angry brakes

Motorcycles were racing everywhere, truck transports were being hastily assembled

Then the door of the compartment was thrust violently open

Complete with smartly pressed brown shirt, soft overseas cap and leather boots, a teenage SS storm trooper filled the doorway. “Passport control!”

He took one step inside, straddled the isle and turned to the first person on his left. “What’s your name?”

“Gerson, Dr. Max Gerson.” The stranger’s calm tone lent him authority.

“Where are you going?”

“To Vienna”

The man looked straight into the youth’s opaque eyes, noticed the still childish pout on his lips. “With my X-rays” he added in a flash of intuition, his voice ringing clear. “I’m a doctor, remember?”

“What X-rays?”

Dr Gerson took from his briefcase a red envelope. Out of which he slipped a stack of plates. Patiently began to illustrate and summarize. “You see here? Notice this white area, the light stripe surrounding the immediate lobe of the right lung. Do you know what this is? Water. Yes water! It was filling his lungs and the patient was dying. Look, you can see here, and here, those black spots. These are cavities in the lung tissue. She was dying too. Tuburculosis. The last stage, eh? But Zondek and I found a method. We found a way to save both their lungs, and the lungs of everyone whose X-rays you see here, all of them, do you understand?”

He paused. “Have you heard of the great radiologist, Fleischner, of Vienna?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Well, young man, I have an appointment to see him tomorrow, to have these plates authenticated. That way our results will be decisively proven in Berlin.”

Dr Gerson looked up sharply, a sadness flickering in his eyes which might have included a desperate irony. “Superiority of our German techniques, don’t you agree? It can cure the incurable.”

Before the storm trooper could utter a single word, Max Gerson took a visiting card from his wallet. “If you or your family ever need help”, he said casually, “come and see me in Berlin”.

The youth was mesmerised. He carefully placed the card in the pocket of his shirt, took a long, last look at strange passenger, whose face didn’t conform in the least to the stereotypes branded by racism in his brain and passed on to the next one.

“Name! Destination! Jewish?”

In the soft light of the spring morning the Jews were dragged from the train and lined up, four deep.

Two months earlier on January 30 things had taken a terrible turn in Germany. Gerson, a German Jew, with sharp instincts and a desire to help others got wind of what was coming and had just made good his escape from his country never to return. Those close to him, family and friends, who failed to heed the warnings all perished.

For Max Gerson, and for me, this was a defining moment in time.

Dr. Max Gerson had already discovered a way to cure first his own crippling migraine headaches then did the same for his patients’, then he cured lupus, kidney disease, iffy blood pressure, asthma and allergies all using fresh, organic nutrition. He’d found a pattern, a way to cure all ills and the next big breakthrough came in 1929 when he cured his first three advanced, ‘incurable’ cancer patients. Before long everyone was out to get him, fellow doctors, so called specialists and other left brain experts from the School of the Deeply Brainwashed, but skilfully and fortuitously evading medical inquisitions and other Nazis by 1946 Gerson was in front of the US Senate with ample live and documentary proof that he knew exactly what he was doing. Influenced then as now by powerful financial interests the Pepper-Neely Bill, Document No 98471, which sought funding for research into the first proven cancer cure in history was only defeated with the help of four senators who were also medical doctors. Quacks.

And with that, another deeply significant moment in history, the future direction of cancer funding would go to chemotherapy drug production and other pharmaceutical interests’ rather than to the promising field of research that Gerson had established. And the rest is history, albeit not confined to as 50% of the human population is destined to get cancer in the near future and most will die from that or the toxic, cancer causing treatment.

It need not be this way. We are on the verge of the most dramatic evolution in modern human history and the time has come for so many things to change but only if we want them to. Together we can achieve all that this great man did and so much more. Max Gerson was found to be awash with arsenic after his death in 1959. They may well have got him in the end but you can’t kill consciousness. The truth doesn’t die off it spreads out.

Keith Mann Jan 2014 -

(I have plagiarised the escape of Max Gerson from Dr Max by Giulliano Dego)


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Related Articles:

My Gerson Journey Part One read
My Gerson Journey Part Three read

Coffee Enemas read

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None of the information in this page or related material is intended to propose a cure or advice on curing cancer or any other disease. It is for information, educational and discussion purposes and to support my own contention that there is something in this for my own adventure in seeking to cure my incurable cancer. Seeking the truth is nothing to fear and one day soon I hope the same can be said of cancer.

From Dusk 'til Dawn
An Insider's View of the Growth of the Animal Liberation Movement

© Keith Mann