Kick the Terminal Out of Cancer
Our book is now available to buy!
An autobiographical account of Mags's life and how using her spiritual connection helped Murray heal his cancer.
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Follow the highs and lows of living with a death sentence and utimately how Murray navigated his way through a terminal illness and back to full health using 5 simple steps.
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This book will give you hope and triumph over adversity.
An excerpt from Kicking The Terminal Out of Cancer
The year is 1982 and I’m eleven years old. My eldest brother, John, wakes me up by peering around my bedroom door and telling me that ‘he’s OK’.
'I’m alright. I’m OK. I’m still here,' he says.
He’s tall, blond and muscular and gives me a thumbs up before making an ‘O’ shape with his thumb and forefinger. He has a big cheesy smile on his face like he often has. Confused, I ask why he’s waking me up to tell me this but he doesn’t answer. As I continue to blink and rub my eyes, he disappears. I’m now wide awake. Only then does my brain kick in. I remember the police arrived at our house last night to tell us they’d found his body in the river. He was twenty years old.
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I spoke with the African doctor who was caring for him (Murray). He could not find what was wrong with him, however he knew things were not good as his organs started failing one by one. Was it the gallstone that showed up on the scan? Perhaps it was blocking a duct. They weren't sure. Was it the cancer? They weren't sure. Very quickly he was having to wear an oxygen mask to support his breathing; he was on full oxygen as his lungs struggled to function. His lungs were shutting down. Every inch of his skin was orange, including his eyes, as his liver was closing down. He had a catheter inserted, and the liquid inside the bag at the bottom of his bed was a dark red, indicating his remaining kidney was collapsing. This was the most scared I had felt. I felt like Murray was slipping away each day a piece of him was losing function. The only constant was Murray's belief. He believed he would get better, He believed he would survive. He believed he would heal himself.
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When I watched him throwing up black liquid it was like watching an alien movie, an outer planetary being leaving his body. How could we have gone from the holiday of a lifetime to the brink of death in a matter of days? Murray did not grasp the severity of the situation. He said he just needed a good sleep, and he would be fine. He had no idea he was actually at the gates of death. I, on the other hand, had grasped the situation all too well. As had the children.
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The doctor took me to one side and asked me quietly that if it came to it, did I want him on life support because he was already on maximum oxygen with the mask. It couldn't get much worse than that. Knowing the UAE laws prevent you from switching off life support and watching Murray lying there still managing to fight, I had to say I would do anything to give him a chance. If he became dependent on a respirator, then that would be a fight for another day, I thought. Just to complete the bad news he also told me the cancer looked worse in his lungs now than on previous scans. I was beyond crushed. both physically and emotionally. The African doctor would come into Murray's room, stand there silently staring at the machines for five minutes and then leave, We had no idea what thoughts were running through his head or of his plans to save Murray, but we had put our faith in him.