Defying Doctor Bullying: My Last Successful Trial

No animals were harmed in this test, in fact, one was saved. Now for my own healing.


When I was told by a doctor at an emergency veterinary clinic that my cat would die within a year if I didn’t give him a drug for his heart problem, I said “No.”

Now that doctors have been trying to scare and bully me into poisonous and life threatening “cures,” I am recalling how the cat situation worked out.

I had already researched the issue when the last doctor heard the heart murmur. Despite the visual from an ultrasound, I trusted my intuition that the drug route would complicate his life and mine, ultimately causing other health problems.

While the clinic did save my little guy’s life, this doctor’s demand could have easily shortened it. I still remember his condescending look as he uttered his threats.

I still think about finding him to tell him that for 10 years, that cat never received one pill of any kind, nor returned to a veterinarian. He is sitting on me as I write.


The only reason my cat was at the 24-hour emergency clinic was due to a serious side effect (heart failure) from a drug given to him in error by another veterinarian. That doctor decided, despite his knowledge of the cat’s heart issues, to give him steroid shot for his upset stomach (contraindicated with cardiomyopathy, I learned after the fact.)  After some threats of my own, that doctor wound up reimbursing us for the $1,500 cost of the emergency clinic visit that should have never been.

Perhaps if more U.S. doctors were held accountable for the detrimental effects of the drugs they deal, instead of incentivized for it, we wouldn’t have such a sick country.

I am grateful for the experience as I look back. It contributed to my ability to trust my intuition when doctors try to scare me into using chemicals and pharmaceuticals, when those same treatments could do much more harm than good.

I am pretty sure that my cat would have died long ago from the toxic effects of long-term medication that was so strongly suggested. Without it, he has not had one symptom or issue.

I feed him a healthy diet, water, and a multivitamin, give him a lot of love, and a comfortable home. That is all he needs. He has given me so much back in return over the 17 years. Here is a slide show example of his calming and joyful presence in my life, everyday moments that bring a smile to my face and needed peace in my heart.

Curing Carrie: The Less-Traveled Road

Wisdom from my 2014 newly-diagnosed self…

During my latest holistic doctor consultation, Dr. Carlos Garcia, who offers a complimentary one-hour consultation to anyone with a cancer diagnosis, told me “This is an emotionally-based disease” with conviction as he flipped through my biopsy report and PET scans and checked his intuition via Applied Kinesiology.

I didn’t expect the same old “poison, cut, and burn” plan from him, but I didn’t expect a recommendation to get a grip on my stuffed emotional trauma either.

It resonated with me, though, and it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard it.

Working on my emotional baggage might not be easy but it will undoubtedly be more pleasant than the treatment plan of the oncologist I saw the day before.

In my opinion, there was nothing right about Dr. Wright’s recommendations, which included 6 months of chemotherapy, 10 years of estrogen-blocking drugs, 3 surgeries, and 6 weeks of radiation.

I asked for the data sheets that list the side effects of the 4-5 drugs she was recommending (heart disease, uterine cancer, liver damage, and death among them), but I already knew that was not going to be my path. I must choose a plan that I believe in for it to work. I do not believe in poisoning myself to get well.

The treatments I saw while getting the nickel tour of Dr. Garcia’s holistic health care center made more sense to me.

Alternative remedies included IV vitamin therapy, which I had already received for several weeks, detox foot baths, infrared sauna, and a hyperbaric oxygen chamber.

I also noticed a juicer and a therapist’s office, both of which I had begun to utilize.


I want to use this blog as a place to document my experiences, and to share information and opinions that may not widely available, and to tell the story in my own words.

My “Health Care” will be a permanent page, for anyone who chooses to see what I am doing.

If you’re wondering, please refer to my blog here. Though I appreciate the caring concern of friends and family, I want to conserve my energy and stay in a positive state, instead of giving the dis-ease power by talking about it all the time.

So I invite all to come along for the ride if you wish, or not to if you don’t. You may follow here to receive an email with each new post.

This story will have a happy ending, I am sure of it. I hope all who visit will do their best to believe too, and to share positive thoughts and energy. I am not owning the “c” word; I will not give it power or even capitalization.

Here’s to health and new adventures!


Veterans Day Thoughts From a Former Military Wife

flag“You can’t make this shit up” I told myself once again last week as I found a certificate from an Air Force black hawk helicopter rescue flight, flown in Afghanistan in my name, and the American flag that came along with that honor.

I was packing for my move back down South and was trying to leave behind the memorabilia from my former marriage. That particular item seemed sacred, however, and it reminded me of the important role I played as a military wife.  Really? That happened? My husband was flying helicopters in Afghanistan while I attempted to live life as a housewife on the East End of Long Island.

I reminisced about those days yesterday, too, while on the phone with a cable representative. With time to kill during the rebooting of systems, I learned that her son is currently serving in Afghanistan, unable to contact her. It’s freezing there right now, she added. With that reality check, I told myself, “I have no problems,”and told her, I would keep her son in my prayers. The conversation brought back memories of being attached to my phone as well as the scrolling letters on the bottom of my television screen that spelled out words like “helicopter crash” while life went on like nothing was happening for most others around me.

It was different during the earlier days of living off the Army base at Fort Cambell in Clarksville, Tennessee. The other women there could relate well to my situation because their husbands were alongside mine for weeks at a time during dangerous training deployments. It was not wartime yet then, in the late 1990’s, nor did it occur to me when I signed up for this role that war would come about again in my lifetime. That oblivion also included the thought that his new “part-time job” with the reserves in the Air National Guard in Westhampton Beach would be nothing to worry about.

But everything changed that day when I watched on my East End television set as bombs were shot off like fireworks, and he came home with talk of Iraq and anthrax vaccines. I was opposed to the series of six toxic injections, and the war, yeah that too.  My opinion didn’t matter. In fact, while I watched images of world wide protests on satellite TV I was told that I was not allowed to express my opposition publicly, because I was an “officer’s wife.”

This post is not meant to be a pity party for me, although those years did take a toll. I am writing about this subject because I want to share what I know to be true about those who serve, and to remind everyone that service includes the family. 

I am truly grateful that I experienced military life. I would have never known the motivation, stamina, professionalism, responsibility, and brotherhood that resides there. I surely never saw it in any guy I dated before that time. It seems that just about every military person I meet can be trusted with my life, and I am in awe of the strong bond they have with each other. Many of them have seen things that many of us could not deal with, lived in uncomfortable surroundings, away from their homes and families, in extreme temperatures, and life-threatening situations. Yet they remain dedicated to their jobs, the community, and the government that sends them off to what often resembles Hell on earth. Staying active as much as possible in events that support Veterans, I have met many in years since who continue to exemplify the honor and strength I admire.

I hope that today and whenever possible, both those who know and those who don’t truly thank and support Veterans.

I am ever so grateful for doing so one December evening a few years ago when I met Joey Theinert, from Shelter Island, who was enjoying a few beers with his brothers before heading off to Afghanistan the next day.  I thanked him for his service and I clearly remember the look of appreciation in his eyes.

Joey did not come back alive. He died a hero’s death and I was so grateful to have expressed my appreciation beforehand. His death shocked and forever changed the Shelter Island community and I will never forget that day or that former life of mine, and I will always support those who serve, especially those who return with mental or physical wounds, and the families of those who do not make it back alive. I hope others will, too.

Sandy Storms Shelter Island

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I was living on Shelter Island during Sandy, and the island saw the highest water in decades.

I wrote about a daring rescue that took place during the storm for The East Hampton Star.

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