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  • Monica DuBois

43. What Does That Mean? Part 4

Updated: Aug 7, 2022

“Vile and Disgusting.” That’s what my therapist, Dr. Curiel (at Hope4Cancer Clinic), told me in his book entitled, “Recall Healing.”

He told me, “The further down the digestive tract the cancer is, the more ‘vile and disgusting’ was the conflict that started it.”

My cancer was at the end of my digestive tract. (Anal cancer: Squamous cell carcinoma. 5cm. on the inside and 4cm. on the outside. Pain, bleeding, and a growing tumor.)

I had no idea what he was talking about.

He explained how the body will reflect a conflict in life that caused great stress. The body, the emotions, the mental state, and the spiritual side of each person are inextricably connected.

And he said colon cancer is from a conflict in early childhood.

I searched my memories for something I might have thought was so “vile and disgusting.” He waited and looked at me. I came up blank. (I had some vile and disgusting times with this disease in my body because of its location, but nothing else I could think of.)

This question stayed with me day after day, week after week of therapies and treatments at the clinic. I was there for more than two months and still, nothing came to mind. I was considering that maybe he was wrong about this. But I didn’t want to miss any cause for cancer to appear on or in my body. They have been doing this counseling with cancer patients for over two decades, and I had cancer for under a year. I had to see if this was a clue to cancer being in my body and growing.

Almost three months after I got home from the clinic, and a month after they claimed that I was “All Clear,” I was talking to God about it. I asked Him this question.

“What conflict was so ‘vile and disgusting’ in my life that might have caused this cancer?”

My intention in pursuing was this: I did not want to get rid of cancer and then have it come back because I didn’t do all that was necessary to find the reason for it in the first place. I had my physical healing. After radiation, the bleeding and pain stopped, and the tumor had shrunk down to a scar from this terrible fight in my life.

I thought, “Who do I ask to help me search for a time that I felt ‘vile and disgusting’”? My parents have been dead for more than a decade, my brother is only four years older than me, and how do I ask a guy that question anyway?

Who else but the Lord could have answers for me? It felt so important to pursue to get to the root of cancer. I did not go through this whole lifestyle change to have it come back again. I wanted it defeated in every part of my being.

During one of the times of asking God, He answered.

Early one morning, I was stirring in my bed in the sleep/wake state when a memory popped up. My thoughts were fuzzy at first. When I hit middle age, my mom was in her seventies; she mentioned, quite casually, that as a baby I had made a huge mess in my crib with my dirty (poop). I could not recall any reason for her to tell me this. There was no conversation around it that I remembered to relate as to why she would feel the need to tell me this. It was just an isolated event before I had memories. At the time, I thought, “That’s weird, that she would tell me this.”

But then that morning I thought Why did my mom tell me this? This was an isolated event that happened to her too!

She had to deal with this!

This was a big deal to her. That’s why she was telling me this. I didn’t know what to do with it at the time. I didn’t want to talk more about it then. I didn’t know if she said it to shock me, shame me, or what. So, I dropped it because I didn’t see the point of engaging her in it.

Still not quite awake, I stirred a bit more. Then the thought hit me: “That must have been disgusting for her. It clicked into place, and I woke up! “Was this the event that contributed to my cancer? Could this be the conflict that was so “vile and disgusting”?

I held my peace. I told no one but prayed for quite some time that day. Asking the Lord what it meant. What do I do with this memory that really wasn’t mine, but my mom’s? I had no recollection of it. It was obviously prior to my potty training.

I asked God what to do with this. He led me to think about the scene. I felt God nudge me to write it down. I said to Him, “I don’t know exactly what happened that day. I don’t know what to write down!” He was silent. I got my laptop out and started to write about something I knew nothing about. I felt assured that God would guide me, and He did.

I wrote and wrote until I felt drained and empty. It poured out on the page. I could picture it all. I’m not sure how it all looked for real, but I knew my mom. I knew her way of processing the world and it flowed like she was there. Some of her mannerisms and phraseology came back as I got into her mind in this situation. I could see and hear her. She needed to smoke at stressful times. Her cleaning habits. How much she loved this house (it was her favorite home). I could hear her thoughts about how this added to her full schedule of keeping her home spic and span. Her love of painting and being an artist. It all came out in that hour(s) of writing. It was exhausting.

I felt done. I was emptied of that wretched memory. It was out. I wondered how accurate the story was, but that didn’t seem to matter, I was done.

I slept well that night.

Caveat: I want to be very careful with the person involved. There’s no way to tell the rest of this story without including the one that had the most effect on me. I want to proceed with caution; with the idea that I do not hold her responsible for her part in my story. The reason being is she had her own demons to contend with and disadvantages that set her back. She made decisions that affected me and others in their lives. Most of all I have forgiven her and by God’s great grace, I am not bitter towards her in any way.

My intent in telling my story is to help others see that overcoming is something to aim for, put in your sight, and shoot at to accomplish for yourself, and for the kingdom of God. It is not done lightly or without God.

Mom played her part without regard for me or the story I would have to tell. She had things she didn’t overcome and so passed them on to me. There were events in her life that impacted her for the good or bad, which was her choice, and so, she acted out on me without thinking about how it might affect me. And that’s why there have to be questions and hopefully, answers that set the record straight, or at the very least open up a place of compassion in my heart for her and what she was going through and the place she was living in her mind.

Maybe someday I will have a chance to tell her story too.

My next post is what I wrote that day. I am sharing because I fear God and not man. He has me sharing all that He did in my life. It’s not easy to share. It’s not exactly what I want to share. But you will see in the next several posts how God used this in my life for healing that is so deep and wonderful. He showed me His love through it all. There is more to the story after this.

By Monica DuBois

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