In September of 1991, my wife and I were blessed
with a baby boy. The following month, I was in the hospital getting
a total thyroidectomy. I had thyroid cancer.
I was in excellent physical condition prior to surgery, so I recovered
rapidly and I immediately went back to work as a self-employed contractor.
As the days and weeks passed, the thought of having cancer would occasionally
surface. Being a new father, however, I quickly forgot any of those
concerns. I healed completely and continued to work as if nothing had
ever happened.
In January of 1992, as we were coming home from a wedding, my wife and
I found ourselves in an evening snowstorm. As we sat at a red light,
we were suddenly struck from behind by a drunk driver. We both sustained
neck and back injuries which required that we have MRI tests taken (sort
of an advanced form of x-ray). One evening my doctor called and informed
us that my MRI had revealed more than just herniated discs. I had a
tumor in my head, located in my pituitary gland. My wife and I were
devastated. We didn't know what it all meant.
I was sent to a specialist in New York city who examined me and explained
that 99% of the time these tumors are benign. He further stated that
since this type of tumor often tends to shrink on its own, he would
not operate right away. The plan was to get a MRI of my head done every
six months, just to keep an eye on it. We were relieved and satisfied
with his opinion, so every six months I went for my MRI and life went
on.
In the late winter of 1994, I began experiencing head pain different
from anything I had ever known before. This was no ordinary headache.
I went to a neurologist for an examination and was told that I was experiencing
"cluster headaches". Due to their severity, cluster headaches
are commonly known to drive people to suicide. They would come and go
in flashes. I also had a steady pain up the back of my head that would
literally pull the life force right out of me. The pain got so bad that
I was bedridden. Eventually the pain became so severe that I returned
to the neurologist. This time the neurologist himself brought me to
the hospital for an emergency MRI fearing that the tumor had hemorrhaged.
Fortunately, it hadn't. It had, however, grown significantly and surgery
was required immediately.
In May of 1994, I was scheduled for brain surgery. You can't imagine
the anxiety that comes with the anticipation of having someone operate
on your head. My surgery lasted three hours and the tumor was successfully
extracted. Recovery was long and tiresome. Unfortunately, when you tamper
with the pituitary gland, it stops functioning. Since this is the master
gland that controls much of your body chemistry, I was now chemically
dependent. Every day I had to take four doses of hormones and 30mg of
hydrocortisone. In addition, I had to get a testosterone shot every
three weeks. My doctors told me that if my pituitary gland did not regain
function within a month after surgery, I could expect that it never
would. It didn't. Again, my wife and I adjusted to the new routine and
life went on.
One day I was watching a television program about "healers".
I was not familiar with alternative forms of healing and the idea interested
me greatly. Since the medical world had already given up on me, I decided
to pursue a healer in an effort to get my pituitary gland working again.
I've never been one to go down without a fight so, even though the gland
had been non-functional for several months, I was determined to find
a healer and make myself whole. The search went on for over a year.
In June of 1995, I was at my periodic cancer examination when my surgeon
found a tumor in the right side of my neck. A CAT scan and MRI confirmed
that the thyroid cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. Surgery was scheduled
for July. I kept myself and my wife on a positive track by thinking
that I would come through this operation successfully and all would
be well again. My search for a healer had to be put on hold temporarily.
Surgery lasted for five hours. It was a radical dissection of my right
neck. Eighty-eight lymph nodes were removed and of them, 22 were cancerous.
The surgery was very painful and I took almost three months to heal.
Once I recovered from this operation, my search for a healer was on
again. I was determined that after three major operations in less than
four years, I was going to get back to normal.
My search finally climaxed when NBC in California responded to a letter
I had sent them regarding a show I had seen on healers. Several names
and addresses were mailed to me. I reached those that I could, but the
one that really made an impression was Dr. Eric Scott Pearl in Los Angeles.
I was excited! My search was over. I was finally going to have a session
with a bona fide healer!
In November of 1995, my wife and I met Dr. Pearl. My pituitary gland
hadn't been functioning for over a year and a half. Medically speaking,
all hope was lost. After explaining my condition, I had a private session.
It was a genuine experience. He held his hands over my head. After several
minutes, I felt a tremendous heat. I finally passed out. Upon awakening,
I was rather disoriented. He explained that some results tend to be
immediate while others may only become apparent with time. He asked
that I write or phone to let him know of my progress, as this is the
only way he can keep track of things.
In December of 1995, about three weeks after my session with Dr. Pearl,
I started to experience new and unusual feelings in my body. My doctor
confirmed my instincts that I no longer needed my medications, and,
under supervision, I began to wean myself off of the drugs. After three
months, I am now 95% drug free with a well-functioning pituitary. My
doctor and I are hopeful that I will soon be 100% drug free. My test
results are now normal. I'm feeling great. My stamina is better now
than it ever was before my surgeries. My spirits are high. My wife and
I are once again leading a healthy, normal life.
After receiving my most recent set of normal laboratory results, I smiled
and asked my physician what he now thought of healers. Following a moment's
contemplation, he replied, "The only thing I can tell you is there
are a lot of strange phenomena out there that I really don't understand."
As time passed, medical tests continued to confirm my miraculous recovery.
I contacted Dr. Pearl to inform him of my results. He was truly happy
to hear of my healing.
As a father and self-employed contractor, it's a luxury if I can find
time to make it through the morning newspaper, let alone ponder the
mysteries of the universe. Yet on the rare occasion that I do have
a free moment, I often try to make sense of all the wonderful things
that have happened since my session with Dr. Pearl. I've come to realize
that there are a lot of strange phenomena out there that I, too, don't
understand. One thing both my medical doctor and I do understand,
however, is that I was healed thatday through Dr. Pearl. I don't like
to brag about it, I don't need to justify it, and I guess I don't
even have to understand it. All I know is I've got my health back—and
it's been a long road home.
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For
He Is The Light And They Shine Through Him
About eight years ago I started to feel as if I had a chronic case
of the flu. I had headaches, stomach pains, and my joints and body
ached all the time. Some days the pain was more intense than others,
but the feeling of being ill was constant. I had no appetite. Eating—just
swallowing—caused me great pain. My weight dropped to 87 pounds.
I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and fibromyalgia. My
symptoms were so severe that many of the doctors who examined me thought
that I had other complications as well. This led to a variety of painkillers.
Since I was allergic to most of them, my doctors were constantly switching
me from one medication to another.
Despite the painkillers, most of the time I was unable to get up
from a chair by myself. I hurt so much I had to be carried to the
shower up to four times a night, where I would sit under hot running
water just to get some relief. I couldn't even drive my children to
visit their grandmother, which was a short one-hour trip. On the rare
occasion when I did force myself to make the drive, I had to remain
there, bedridden for three days, until I could build up the strength
to drive us home. Some days I was able to go into work for a few hours.
Other days I wasn't.
I began to feel like I was going crazy. My life was a constant cycle
of pain and exhaustion. Little things such as washing dishes, cooking
dinner or even just getting out of bed each morning became major efforts
and were sometimes impossible. I had no quality time with my family.
My eight-year-old son took care of his three-year-old brother most
evenings, cooking dinner since I couldn't get out of bed. Had it not
been for my family, I don't know how I would have gotten by. Had I
not had children, I know I would have allowed myself to die.
One evening when everyone in the house was sleeping, I swallowed
several handfuls of pain pills, haphazardly mixing them together.
(I'm not really sure how many I took, as I can't remember exactly
what happened.) I later found myself on the bathroom floor vomiting,
shaking and sweating. It felt as if my body were coming out of my
skin. At some point I started to pray, "Please God, help me.
I can't live like this, but I don't want to leave my boys." I
had reached the end of my tolerance. I simply couldn't be sick any
longer, but I didn't know where to turn for help. I finally fell asleep
on the floor and was awakened by the morning sun coming in through
the bathroom window. I didn't tell my family what had happened.
That day I stayed home from work, feeling sick and exhausted. Lying
on the couch, I turned on the TV; a talk show was on. I wasn't sure
why, but I felt as if I were supposed to watch it. A Dr. Eric Scott
Pearl and a panel of medical doctors were discussing how so many of
Dr. Pearl's patients had been healed of unusual afflictions. One man
described how, as a result of a session with Dr. Pearl, he regained
the use of his leg. The TV station even showed video footage and a
photograph of this man at various ages prior to his healing. Dr. Pearl
explained that the healings are brought about by a "Higher Power"
which, to the best of his understanding, seems to come through him.
I knew that Dr. Pearl was telling the truth, that he was for real,
and that I had to see him. I called the television station and found
out the number of his office in Los Angeles.
I phoned and asked the receptionist if the doctor could fit me into
his schedule. I didn't have the money for airfare, the sessions, or
even a place to stay. I called my parents and told them what I had
seen, and how excited I was about going to see Dr. Pearl. Although
they were skeptical, my mother said that they would help me with the
expenses and told me to go ahead and make the appointment. My mother
decided to come with me and, six days later, we were on a plane headed
to L.A.
The 45-minute taxi-ride from the airport seemed an eternity. I could
hardly wait to see the doctor. My first appointment was scheduled
for that afternoon, April 4, 1995. I will never forget that day.
When I met Dr. Pearl I was comfortable right from the start, knowing
somehow that I had been sent to him. I knew that God would take it
from there. My first session began in a quiet room with dim lights
and a soothing atmosphere. Dr. Pearl lightly placed one finger above
my heart and I immediately fell into a light sleep. I wasn't entirely
asleep, though, because I was clearly aware of movement in the room
and sounds in the outer office. Dr. Pearl held his hands over and
above my head and I felt a warmth in and around my body. The energy
level in the room was very intense. I experienced an inexplicable
and continuous movement of my right knee. (I had injured that knee
while skiing several years ago and it always bothered me.) My hands
were also in constant motion.
At one point the doctor left me alone for a moment. I had a strong
feeling that someone else was in the room, even though I knew the
doctor was not there. Then I heard the soft voice of a woman. She
told me her name was Parsillia and that she was my guardian angel.
Parsillia told me that I would be healed and although I had never
seen or been addressed by an angel before (at least not that I know
of), I knew that this was to be my healing. The physicians had done
all that they could, but Parsillia's presence told me that my life
was now beginning again.
My body became intensely warm all over. The most painful areas of
my body became hot, then returned to a comforting warmth, feeling
much better. At one point I felt Dr. Pearl standing by my left side,
but when I opened my eyes I realized that no one could possibly have
been standing there since the treatment table was against the wall.
Someone with a very comforting presence had been standing there, however,
and nothing will ever shake my knowledge of this.
My second session, April 5, was just as dramatic. Parsillia came
to me again. I asked her the name of the angel who works through Dr.
Pearl and she simply said, "The Healing Angel". Again, several
areas of my body became hot, then relaxed and warm. Several times
Parsillia repeated that I was being healed. I came out of the session
feeling light-headed. My body was so warm that my legs were bright
pink, as if I'd just stepped from a sauna or spa. I had so much energy
after my second session with Dr. Pearl that my mother and I decided
to go shopping. Suddenly I heard my mother calling for me to slow
down. This was a shock for us both since, during the past seven years
of my illness, everyone had been forced to slow down for me.
In my third session I fell directly into a light sleep, almost before
Dr. Pearl came into the room. The angel told me that they would be
working on the cause of my headaches and the sharp, stabbing pains
I had been having in my head. She said they would cure them that day.
I experienced warmth, first in my right cheek and then throughout
my entire face, and was told that I was told that I was being filled
with love, peace and patience.
During my fourth session, the angels told me that I was healed and
would gradually notice other changes. I was given messages for my
father and ex-mother-in-law. I was also shown some beautiful gates
which I assumed were to heaven, and saw shapes but no faces. There
was singing all around me, flowers of colors I had never seen before,
and happiness everywhere. I instantly knew that everyone there had
a purpose and that each was assigned a specific task. I was told to
spend more time with my sons, especially my oldest.
Parsillia told me to keep in contact with her. She promised should
would be there.
It's been many years since my first visit with Dr. Pearl, and my
life is still changing. I've had more contact with my angels, and
I have been back to Dr. Pearl occasionally, just to visit. My life
has returned to normal - quite quickly, and quite fully. I now work
full-time in my own business, then come home every evening and prepare
the family meal. My weight is normal and I exercise daily. And in
case you're wondering, or just in case I haven't been entirely clear,
I want you to know that I am healed. My condition is not just in remission;
I have been completely cured. More importantly, I have my own life
back and, after all these years, my children have their mother back
once again.
Dr. Pearl is truly gifted. He is a caring and loving man who helped
me to appreciate my blessings. I couldn't find any happiness or purpose
in life when all I could concentrate on was fighting my illness and
pain. Through him I was able to regain my family, my purpose, my happiness,
my life. There are no words to describe my joy.
My feelings for Dr. Pearl can best be summed up in one phrase, something
one of the angels told me:
"For he is the light, and they shine through him."
People can talk, people can wonder, people can debate whether healings
of this nature truly occur; whether they are mind over matter; whether
they would have happened anyway; and whether there really are angels.
Ask me. I know.
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An
Angel In My Kitchen
It is difficult for me to know where to begin my story. This has
been a long road with many twists and turns.
I was 30 years old and the mother of a very beautiful, very healthy
and very active eighteen-month-old boy. I had a job that I thoroughly
enjoyed and a husband who was loving, caring and supportive. I had
all the basics of a good and happy life. When I look back on that
time, I remember feeling that my life could not have been better.
I was, like most people, blissfully flowing along in the denial of
our common fate, a denial which was somehow essential to my peace
of mind. I never thought about mortality in a serious way. Little
did I know that my reality was about to change - almost as abruptly
as if I had crashed into a brick wall while travelling at 90 miles
an hour.
I remember fighting with my doctor because I wanted a mammogram. She
hesitated, saying, "Thirty-year-olds never get breast cancer".
I, however, knew in my heart that something was terribly wrong. After
all, it was my body, so I persisted until the doctor reluctantly agreed
to send me for the test. That was the first time in my life I stood
up and asserted myself. And boy did I receive reinforcement for this
lesson: I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had a modified radical
mastectomy, and 15 of the 22 lymph nodes removed from under my arm
showed malignancy.
By the time my husband and I left the doctor's office we were in total
despair. I had never felt so alone or so abandoned. I was sure nothing
good would come of this. I was convinced I would soon be dead. We
began our drive home in silence, punctuated only by the sounds of
our sobs. Suddenly, the energy in the car seemed to change. My husband
began to speak as if he were guided to do so, saying that we would
fight this. Other people have beaten cancer, he pointed out, and we,
too, would do whatever was necessary to beat it together. Fortunately
my fatalistic attitude was short-lived thanks to the strength of my
husband and family. And, although at the time I was sure it was my
husband who was going to save me, I now know that through my own strength,
hope, will and faith, I saved myself.
I refused to allow this cancer to run my life. I had a family to care
for, a child to raise, and a life to live. From that moment on we
began an all-out war. We set out to educate ourselves on the different
options available, both mainstream Western and so-called "alternative"
approaches. We would only see doctors and other health professionals
who dealt with us in an open, informative and caring way. We always
insisted on knowing exactly what was going on and why so that we could
make informed decisions.
Through all this, we called everyone we knew to solicit support and
prayers. Friends and family flocked to our side. It's amazing how
people respond when another is in need. I learned much about the innate
goodness of people. I learned how essential sharing love is to the
human experience. I began to feel the love in my heart and the hope
that ultimately sustained me through this journey. The possibility
of miracles and the wonder of life became everyday thoughts to me.
I began to question my thought patterns more. This, I found, was a
very important factor in my well being. I pondered why I thought it
more realistic to expect a negative outcome than to expect a positive
one. I opted to expect the positive.
I began to seek more out of life. I have always asked my God to show
me the right path and to provide me with the tools I need. I have
had much chemotherapy and even a bone marrow transplant. These things
were all gifts from God. I wanted more, however, and that drive is
what led me to seek the aid of a "healer."
I have always been interested in the mysteries of healing and I began
to pursue this. One morning, by chance, I saw Los Angeles-based Dr.
Eric Scott Pearl and some of his patients on a TV talk show. I believe
the topic was alternative healing. I was struck by his gentleness
and humility. He has truly been given the gift of healing. He doesn't
know why he was chosen or where the gift came from - "Call it
God, Love or Universe," he says - yet somehow a healing power
does work through him. His patients receive healings that are otherwise
unheard of in today's world.
When I first met Dr. Pearl, I was weak from chemotherapy. Not only
did I require a wheelchair to go from place to place, the rest of
the time I was confined to bed. I had spent seven weeks in the hospital
in isolation while doctors tried to figure out how to treat my blood
counts which, for the previous two months, had dropped dangerously
low and seemed insistent upon remaining there. The only thing they
knew for certain during those seven weeks was that I required blood
transfusions every other day in order to survive. To add insult to
injury, I was also suffering from shingles. I was determined to leave
the hospital in time for my first appointed healing session…and
I did just that. My healing began the day my husband and son checked
me out of the hospital and wheeled me in to see Dr. Pearl. From that
day on, things have miraculously gotten better.
As Dr. Pearl ran his hands above my body, I could feel warmth. I saw
many bright colors, a white star, and an exquisite white light. I
also saw an intensely beautiful violet light, a violet color I had
never seen before. I felt the sensation of invisible hands touching
me in a healing way. I could feel the presence of loving, joyful beings.
I felt as if angels were having a party all around me. Not being a
person who regularly sees angels, this was a very significant event
for me. I wanted to get up and join in on the fun. I felt my heart
open in an intense surge of every emotion imaginable. It was an enchantingly
beautiful experience. The only other time in my life that I can remember
feeling this way was when I gave birth to my son.
All too soon, I heard the voice of a female angel gently saying, "You're
done." Just then, Dr. Pearl brought me out of the session as
if he had heard the angel too. These loving angels came to me again
in our next two sessions. (I had three sessions, one a day for three
days, and each was as beautiful as the one before.) Without words,
the angels fed me peace, love, joy, playfulness and hope, all things
I needed in my life. During my sessions with Dr. Pearl, these angels
allowed me to feel what I can only describe as the energy of my life
- it was like the buzz or hum of my being.
The angels stayed with me for several months; we visited daily. They
illuminated my path, helping me to see my needs more clearly and to
become the healthy, vibrant person I am today. They came to me in
dreams and while I was awake. Sometimes I would see them and other
times I would sense them. They always gave me the answers I needed
and I am eternally grateful for this gift.
These angels don't show themselves to me anymore, although I'm sure
they continue their watch. I used to know when I was about to see
the angels because, as if to announce their arrival, the most heavenly
scent of vanilla ice cream cones would fill the air. The reason I
no longer see them, I feel, is because of the one day that I didn't
smell the ice cream cones. That day I walked into my kitchen and was
startled when I unexpectedly saw one of the angels standing where
I usually stand to prepare dinner. Surprised, I inhaled loudly. All
right, I admit it…I gasped. I didn't mean to, but it caught
me off guard and there was no taking this gasp back. Apparently not
wanting to upset me, the angel vanished and never returned. I was
very disappointed as I never saw any of the angels again. And I must
tell you; I really do miss having them around.
Since my first session with Dr. Pearl and the angels that work with
him, I no longer require any of the every-other-day blood transfusions
that had characterized my existence. I also haven't used a wheelchair.
Not once. I was now able to walk and drive on my own. I even drove
myself to my third and final session with Dr. Pearl and have continued
to improve ever since.
Even after the last angel left, I continued to reach new levels in
my energy, my health and the overall quality of my life. I am once
again doing all the shopping, cleaning and cooking for my family on
a daily basis, not to mention chauffeuring my nine-year-old son around
town and being den mother to his Boy Scout troop. This is a big change
for a woman who, a little while back, spent most of her time confined
to a bed. My sessions with Dr. Pearl have given me a new openness
and allowed me to learn many new lessons. My feelings and emotions
now run more deep, more true. I have been left with a heightened sense
of love, not only for my husband and my son, but for the world as
well. Perhaps the angels leaving was their way of telling me that
I was ready to fully recover on my own, that I was ready to care for
myself and my family the way I always had.
I see myself as a survivor. A survivor is more than a person who merely
lives through a disease; it is a person who has the courage to go
on with life. It is enjoying family and friends, sharing love, being
open to all possibilities, hoping, and always being true to your heart.
I am now 37 years old. As I've said, it's been a long journey. I gave
up my cancer in a millisecond, yet I will always cherish the lessons
I've learned about myself - and life - as a result of my experience.
And it will always be my privilege to feel both happy and sad whenever
I smell a vanilla ice cream cone.
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Miracle
on Melrose Place
I met Dr. Pearl on October 3, 1994, a day that
forever changed my life.
I was born with a birth defect. Upon entering the world, the doctor
cut my umbilical cord too early. I didn't breathe for a period of
time, my skin turned purple and the doctors panicked. As a result
of this trauma, a portion of my brain stopped functioning and the
right side of my body from my waist down did not develop correctly.
My right leg was several inches shorter than my left; as well, my
right hip was much higher in placement. Due to my deformity, I walked
with an exaggerated limp, my right hip swinging outward with each
step. Also, because of the difference in the lengths of my legs, I
could not stand up straight. For balance, my right foot turned inward
and rested on my left so that my two legs acted as one large leg to
balance the weight of my upper body. To keep from falling, my back
would hunch forward as if I were about to dive into a pool. This condition
resulted in many back problems both as a child and young adult.
By the time I was 14, I visited more than 20 doctors in attempts to
remedy my situation. I had surgery performed on my right heel cord
to lengthen it. This neither changed the way I walked nor balanced
my body. I wore orthotic shoe lifts, specially constructed orthopedic
shoes, and steel leg braces, yet none of these remedies seemed to
heal or or even slightly improve my condition. Soon I developed spasms
in my right leg. Around the age of 14, the spasms became so violent
that following these frequent episodes, my back would ache for days
on end. It was especially embarrassing for me when these spasms occurred
in front of friends ? and even more so in front of strangers. So,
against my will, I saw a neurologist. He prescribed drugs to see if
the spasms would subside. They never lessened. In fact, the spasms
seemed to feed off the medication. Feeling a loss of intelligence
- not to mention feeling really stoned - I soon gave up on the prescriptions.
Later that year I was referred to another doctor. I was told that
he would be the one to finally help me. I was so excited! At last,
maybe this would be the doctor who would make me less different than
everyone else.
I went with huge expectations. When I left, I felt more rejected than
ever. Not only did the doctor tell me there was nothing he could do
to help, he painted a bleak picture of my future as well. He told
me I would always have back problems. In fact, he told me these problems
would increase as I aged and that my skeleton would deteriorate, that
I would end up relegated to a wheelchair.
That was the longest ride home I'd ever experienced. All hope that
I'd ever held had drained out of me. I made an important decision
that day: I would never see another doctor about this again. I would
find some way to accept my fate and make peace with my body.
Thirteen years passed. I was working out with an acquaintance and
happened to mention that I'd been having some especially bad back
pain. She told me she knew a great Chiropractor. She had been in a
bad motorcycle accident a few years back and had also been suffering
from terrible back pains. Since she had seen this Chiropractor, her
back had been pain free. I figured I'd check him out.
I made an appointment for October third and, after much anticipation,
the day finally rolled around. I walked into his office, took a seat
and waited until his assistant led me into a room. The Chiropractor
entered. His name was Dr. Eric Scott Pearl. I intuitively knew that
I was in the right place at the right time.
On that visit he asked me a few questions, took a look at my spine
and gently adjusted my neck, telling me to come back in two days.
I felt a little better, but nothing earth shattering. My back still
felt sore.
Two days passed before I went for my second visit. Again, he took
a look at my spine and lightly adjusted my neck. Then he told me to
relax and close my eyes. I followed his instructions.
Suddenly, my right foot began rotating in circles all on its own.
I tried in my mind to stop it but it continued to rotate. Then the
thought came to me that I should let it do what it wants. This went
on for a minute or two, until my right foot finally turned inward
again, coming to rest on my left foot just as it always had when I
stood.
I remember feeling warm, as if the temperature of the room had increased
by ten degrees. I felt this energy down around my right calf muscle
and began to sense my right foot turning outward once more, ever so
slowly. "Now what's happening?" I wondered, more than somewhat
astonished. It felt as if invisible hands were turning my foot, yet
it didn't feel like hands at all. It felt good. It felt right. I was
totally at peace. This process occurred over a thirty-second period.
Then I remember Dr. Pearl lightly nudging me. He was so gentle, yet
the sudden flight back to awareness came as a shock.
I told him what I had felt and experienced. He then asked me to stand.
It was magical! I stood up and was six feet tall. I was standing taller
and straighter. When I looked down toward the floor - which was a
much further distance than I remembered - I saw that my right foot
was straight, just like my left one. I was balanced, and my right
foot was no longer turned inward leaning against my left for support.
For the first time in my life I had two independent legs. I gave Dr.
Pearl a huge hug.
I left with an enormous smile on my face. I got into my car and turned
right from Melrose Place onto La Cienega Boulevard, In my head I kept
replaying the image of my foot turning outward. Had this really happened?
I felt as if I were living in a dream state. Nothing seemed the way
it once was.
Leaving Los Angeles proper, I turned onto Laurel Canyon to go into
the Valley. I lost all control of my emotions and had to pull off
to the side of the road as I broke down crying. I’m not sure
how much time passed as I sat there, crying on the side of the road.
All I know is that someone had finally returned to me what had been
so callously ripped away years before: hope. I had lost all hope when
I was 14 and found it again at Dr. Pearl's office 13 years later.
As I sat and cried, my entire life replayed itself before my eyes.
I had experienced a happiness I never knew was possible. I felt at
peace with my body, at peace with the world. Dr. Pearl was the one
who gave this to me. It wasn't until much later that I discovered
that these healings are commonplace in his office. In speaking with
Dr. Pearl you would never know this, as each incredible healing leaves
him as awestruck as mine left me. His kindness, caring and healing
talents gave me something I never knew existed: a miracle.
Albert Einstein said there are two ways to look at life. You can either
believe that there are no miracles or you can realize that everything
is a miracle.
Oh. And by the way ? my back pains are gone.
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to Healing Metamorphoses
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The
Lady in the Garden
At age 11, I awoke one morning in a panic. I was so hot that I couldn't
breathe well. As I reached up to wipe the sweat from my face, I realized
that not only were my hands swollen to twice their size but my face
and tongue were also. I could hardly see my mother standing in front
of me for my eyes were almost swollen shut. She was trying to get
me to take some medicine. Although this was not the first incident,
this was the worst. My mom put me in the car and took me to the emergency
room. I was so scared, I thought for sure I was going to die. Mom
kept saying "Don't worry honey, it's going to be all right. We're
all here to take care of you." She's a registered nurse, it's
part of her job to soothe people. But it only got worse.
I spent the next couple of days in the bed and the nights with my
mom in the emergency room where she worked. I had these strange blotches
all over me and some turned into big welts. All my joints were swollen
and my whole body ached. The doctors didn't know what was wrong, they
had never seen a kid with so many odd things at once. So, they sent
me to a specialist. Months of tests and different medications revealed
that I had rheumatoid arthritis and mixed connective tissue disease.
The doctor said this could include Lupus but the test was inconclusive.
The course of action for this you ask? Ten—yes, 10!—Bayer
aspirin per day for 6 weeks and no stressful activity, not even gym
class.
Several years passed. I had learned to accept the pain ... worse,
to accept the "We don't know what's wrong" answer. I learned
to smile and put on a good show for everyone. It's much harder than
people think and of course, it doesn't last forever. As I said, I
did fairly well for several years; however, by age 20, I was worn
out, depressed, and forcing myself to get out of bed for work. So,
once again I saw several different doctors who now said I had severe
depression. I spent the next year trying various assortments of anti-depressants
which made life easier to deal with but did not make my body feel
any better. Looking back, I can see why I was depressed. You would
be too if you felt as bad as I did everyday. I finally went to a doctor
who ran a number of tests based on my childhood history and concluded
that I was not simply depressed but that my earlier diagnosis of Lupus
appeared to be correct. Again I was put on a varied array of medications,
none of which worked for more than a few weeks.
I next went to a specialist: a rheumatologist. We tried other medications,
some made me sick, some gave me the hives, and eventually, some worked.
It was a combination of Plaquinil 200mg three times per day, Lodine
800mg and Tagamet 400mg twice daily on top of that. This was the medical
approach that finally worked the best. Sadly for me and my mother,
it didn't work well for long and it was very expensive. So, although
there is no medically known cure for Lupus, my mom started looking
for a more permanent form of treatment. One day while watching Sally
Jessy Raphael on television, she saw a healer: Dr. Eric Scott Pearl.
She made all the arrangements for me to see him before she told me
anything about him. It wasn't until we were making that first six-hour
trip that she told me he was an alternative healer, that he wasn't
going to touch me and that I was going to feel better. I laughed at
her and strongly suggested that she might be in need of some professional
psychiatric counseling. She replied "What do you have to lose?"
Who could argue with that after everything I'd been through? Besides,
she knew enough not to tell me until we were well underway in the
car.
So, we arrived at my 11am appointment with me thinking , "this
guy must be a quack." Can you tell I was skeptical? We went in
and I filled out my paperwork. Shortly afterward, Kathy, the receptionist,
took me to the healing room. In it there was a table to lie on, soft
lighting and sounds of the ocean playing in the background. Kathy
told me to take off my shoes, lie down and relax. Easy for her to
say. I tried, but I couldn't.
Dr. Pearl came in a few minutes later and to my surprise, he looked
pretty normal. We talked for a few minutes about my major complaints,
which were my hands. He asked me to hold up one of them. He held his
hands on either side of mine but did not touch me. He began to move
his hands around in this slow, circular motion. Suddenly, I was scared
because there was this breezy feeling over my hand and this overwhelming
smell of flowers. Flowers like I had never smelled before. I thought
"Okay, this is really strange. His hands are moving much too
slowly to create wind. And what about the flowers? How is he doing
this?" He then moved to my other hand and that same windy feeling
came. He asked me to close my eyes and all I could think was "he's
a freak and I am obviously crazy!"
I closed my eyes and as he slowly walked around my body - doing whatever
it is he does - the windy feeling followed his hands. What happened
next really startled me! As my eyes flew wildly open, Dr. Pearl asked,
"What's wrong?" I didn't dare say. I simply responded, "Nothing,"
although what I really wanted to say was, "Move away from my
ankle, it's getting really hot!" You see I wear a healing stone
around my left ankle that I got from this old Indian doctor in Oatman,
Arizona, and every time Dr. Pearl came near it, my ankle got very
hot. This was weird and I was not happy.
Throughout the rest of the session I was not able to relax. When it
was finally over, he asked me if I had experienced anything. I told
him about the windy feeling and the flower smell. He asked if I knew
what the flower smell was and I said "You." He told me he
didn't think it was him, so I asked if I could smell him. "Yes,"
he laughed and indulged me. Sure enough he didn't smell like a flower
and oddly enough, the smell was almost gone.
He took a few notes and told me to come to the front when I was ready.
He left the room. I must have been in there for about 10 or 15 minutes
looking around for a fan, some flower-scented incense, something --
ANYTHING! -- to explain the wind and the smell. I even took a large
picture down off the wall and moved the furniture around (something
I haven't even admitted to him yet). But I didn't find anything. Now
more than ever, I knew I must be crazy. I left the room and spoke
only the briefest words to the doctor. I was in a hurry to leave.
This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me. My mom
and I drove home, I slept most of the way and when I woke up, my hands
didn't ache as much. I thought Oh, it's just a fluke.
I went about the next week as normal, taking my medicine and doing
pretty much nothing else. The thought of my next appointment with
Dr. Pearl loomed in my mind. I really didn't want to go back, but
the following week we packed up and once again headed to California.
I went to the next appointment, and I was very nervous. Kathy once
again took me back. I took off my shoes, climbed up on the table and
to my surprise I was suddenly very relaxed. Dr. Pearl came in and
we chatted for a few minutes about how I had been feeling, which was
slightly better than usual. He than asked me to close my eyes and
relax. He was about to begin.
I closed my eyes and suddenly felt an indescribable peacefulness.
I could feel the wind around my hand and the absolutely overwhelming
smell of these flowers. Where is this coming from? I thought to myself,
and in that same instance, a woman appeared. I couldn't see her face,
just her white dress and dark hair blowing in the breeze. She was
offering her hand, standing in this amazing garden of flowers above
me. It was as if she were saying “Take my hand and walk through
this garden,” only she wasn't speaking to me, at least not with
words, and I couldn't open my eyes. I was no longer aware of Dr. Pearl's
presence in the room ... or was I somehow no longer in the room? How
bizarre! I wanted to go, I reached out, felt a tug on my hand and
... Boom!, I was up there in the flowers with her. Then, just as quickly
as she came, she was gone.
My eyes flew open and Dr. Pearl was finished. He asked if I was all
right. I was so terrified, I didn't dare tell him what happened. I
just wanted to leave. He walked out of the room and this time I didn't
look for anything. I just left. He and my mom were at the front desk
talking when I came out. I don't think I said a word to either of
them, I just headed for the door. Mom soon followed. We got outside
and I started to cry. I couldn't tell her what happened, I couldn't
tell ANYONE what happened. What would my mom think, much less what
would other people think? I was terrified, alone in the thought that
I really had lost my mind. We headed to the hotel where we were spending
the evening. I had one last appointment the following day. I didn't
say much the rest of the night.
The next morning came quickly. I went to the appointment even though
I really didn't want to. I was afraid. During the entire session,
all I could think was Isn't it over yet?i It actually ended rather
quickly. I think Dr. Pearl could tell something was wrong. I overheard
him telling my mother, who was trying desperately to schedule me for
another appointment, not to bring me back unless I asked to return.
He told her that I didn't seem to want to be there and didn't seem
comfortable with the visits. He was right. I met him out front, politely
thanked him and we headed home. It was none too soon for me. I spent
the next two days scouring every flower shop and plant store in Bullhead
City, Arizona. I had to find these flowers or at least track down
that smell again. It was as if finding them would let me know that
I had not lost my sanity. But then, what would not finding them mean?
Try as I might, I did not find them. No one in the shops recognized
them from the description and no one knew the smell. It's as if they
don't exist anywhere on earth. It was about a week before I could
begin to talk about what happened at Dr. Pearl's office without crying.
(Having been an avowed atheist, this had shaken my belief system to
the very core.) Now that I've brought myself to talk about it, I've
discovered it's actually a relief. Some people look at me strangely
when I tell them about this, but I can't let that stop me. People
need to know that this type of thing does exist. Had my mother not
taken me to Los Angeles, I don't know what condition I would be in
today. In return, I hope that my words can help someone else. Since
my three visits to Dr. Pearl, I have improved 100%. I can do things
now that I thought I would never be able to do again. I can get out
of bed with no problem, a process that used to require a couple of
hours. I can open jars, some that my boyfriend can't! I can workout
and exercise without feeling like I'm falling apart. And I can wear
my jewelry(!) because my hands and ankles no longer ache or swell.
Best of all, no more prescription medications!
You know, sometimes moms know a few more things than we give them
credit for. Mine sure did. While I was running around questioning
my own sanity, she was doing a little research of her own and found
out that Dr. Pearl's healings are being studied all over the country.
I feel a lot less crazy knowing that I'm not the only one seeing these
angels and taking trips through flower gardens in the sky. I hope
to someday find a way to thank her for tracking him down, driving
me six hours each way to and from my appointments and for not giving
up hope when I had given up all of mine. I don't know how to explain
this and I don't know what to call it. All I can tell you is that
it works. I feel as if I've been given the gift of life twice, once
by my mother, and once again by Dr. Pearl. And I can't say thanks
enough. Call me crazy...!
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