He Stood 5'10" and Weighed 109 Pounds
At 5'10" and 109 pounds, Mohammed's bones provided an anatomy lesson, showing every prominence and protuberance. He was sick. His bladder was so full of cancer that in January 1995, doctors in Cairo, Egypt wanted to remove it. "No!" he pronounced, "I'm going to get well and I need my bladder!" He was only 53. Doctors gave him no hope for survival. But to keep him from dying right away, the medical staff punched cathers directly in to each kidney from his back to allow passage of urine. Tight tape anchored each tube and his family received strict instructions to never remove the tape. "Add more tape, but don't take any off, lest infection enter".
He must have been a sight as he flew from his home in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to New York City, and on to Denver. He had flowing garments and carried a catheter bag in each hand. His large family said "You're crazy, stay home!". Yet he--who had never been out of his country--flew to stay with a younger brother near Greeley, CO. The goal was to receive QE from an American woman who did a thing called Quantum Energetics.
His brother knew two people with cancer who'd received tremendous help with Quantum Energetics. He was determined that his beloved elder brother would have those good benefits. The family at first asked if I would meet and work with Mohammed in Cairo, Egypt, since I could not fly into his country. I actually got my visa to go to Egypt, which I stumbled across recently. Now I'm amazed that I even considered making the trip, but there was the proof. Such budding plans were quickly abandoned and before I knew what was happening, Mohammed arrived here in Colorado.
Already weak, travel had drained him. I don’t generally make house calls, but because of this unusual situation, several times a week I made an hour's drive to work with this charming, swarthy, white-haired, missing-toothed man from half way around the world. He had about the most zest and alive spirit I'd ever encountered. Yes, he was in a lot of pain and often begged for the next pain-killer hours before its "time". His eyes sparkled and danced with enthusiasm for life. His charisma enchanted people I took along to visit him. We experienced the same thing: we didn’t want to leave.
I knew that he was not going to quit smoking because he'd threatened to divorce his wife over that issue. I got him to agree to cut "way down". As far as food, in a day's time his only intake had been a glass of milk, a 4 oz. glass of juice, and on some days, a piece of bread. When I said "That's not enough to keep anyone alive!" he defended: "But Miss Judy, I CAN'T eat--because if I eat, it doesn't come OUT!" I found three of our QE codes for denoting obstruction and inflammation in his colon and did the procedures to remind the body to begin healing those conditions. Within a couple of days, he complained because he had to get up and go to the bathroom nine times in three days, and it wasn't diarrhea. From then on, his bowels worked fine.
To get vital nutrients into Mohammed's ravished body, I asked his brother to buy a juicer, buy organic vegetables, and give him 6 glasses a day. Well, two glasses of juice was his max and he did begin eating. Soon he gained nine pounds, his strength increased, and pain diminished. As I worked through the sequence of codes in QE, I found many "bad" sites. Bladder metastasizes were in both thighs, his whole pelvis and sacrum, his lumbar vertebrae, and lower ribs. Additionally, mets had found their way to his left clavicle. On the medial end, a hazel-nut sized knob stuck out and he said "Please Miss Judy, don't touch. If you touch, electric pain all through body." So I didn’t’ touch. On the outer end of his clavicle was a larger bone tumor which was not painful to touch. His left arm hurt and useless; he asked me to avoid even brushing against it because he couldn't take the pain. After QE, the larger knob on his collar bone went away. The smaller one remained, but was no longer painful, even when I mashed on it. He began using that left arm in resistance exercises and to turn himself over in bed. His body was responding to Quantum Energetics with the strength that it had.
Several times a day, his ravaged body spiked a high fever (105+) in an apparent attempt to scorch its Hitler-esk intruder. When the high temperature came, all QE stopped. Doctors had instructed his brothers to dip clothes in ice water and place on his forehead, hands, and feet until the fever returned to a level that wouldn't affect his brain. Once with a fever of 102, he directed his brothers in a spirited Arabian folk song. I later told him that if I had a 102 fever, I wouldn't be singing for anyone. "Yes! It takes much energy to sing. I sing for you."
His singing may have been enabled by general lessening of pain. Whereas he’d often pointed to his bladder and sacrum as "The Seat of my Pain", he soon hurt there very little. The huge suitcase that had been filled with pain pills in punch-out cards was now empty. But now, he no longer needed strong pain killers. He either took an extra strength Tylenol or nothing. Day by day he felt better, gained weight and strength, and I looked forward to an outing to show him my Arabian horses. He insisted that if they were really registered Arabians they couldn't be as tall as they were.
Then everything changed. Mohammed decided that he should see an American doctor while in Colorado. At the next house call, his face told me that he had quit. Just quit. I asked "What had happened?"
He said glumly "The doctor told me I have zero chance of survival." And that was it. He was finished. I told him the doctors words should have been no surprise because doctors in Cairo had already told him the same thing six months before. "All that means is that there is no hope as far as Western Medicine was concerned, but that doesn’t mean that there is NO HOPE!" I reminded him that I'd already introduced him to a woman who had been full of terminal cancer throughout her abdomen and bones—who, with "no hope", had received QE more than 10 years earlier and was completely free of cancer. I took her to his bedside so that he could meet her. But there was no un-quitting him.
Mohammed said that he was going back to “Saudea”. I agreed. "Yes, you should do that." He was surprised. "What, Miss Judy, no lecture?" He knew that I’d see his leaving as giving up. “If you want to be with your family, then you should go.” I said. While he waited for arrangements to be made to return to Saudi Arabia, he wanted me to continue QE with him, so I did. But not for long.
One day, one of his cathers began leaking, bacteria followed the catheter into his kidney, and he quickly became septic. At the hospital, I spoke to him my last words of caring. He was in a coma but his eyes still turned sideways directly toward me and he seemed to hear every word. It was good-bye. When I went to the other side of the bed, his eyes followed me there. That night, his eyes rolled upward and he left his body, to be flown home in a box.
After 15 years, I still marvel at this Middle Eastern junkyard owner who traveled to Colorado to receive strange work from a strange woman. His zest for life was inspiring. Unforgettable. The progress that his ravaged body could make with a QE boost was astounding and a beautiful, powerful lesson in what the body can do. It doesn't always, but it can make profound shifts. It's something that I will never forget. The other thing that has stuck with me is that I saw progress go down the drain with the (male) doctor’s words. Mohammed lost all hope. I saw the power of the mind for destruction. I tried to counter it, but I couldn't.
I saw much goodness. “Miss Judy, you have much love in your heart for people. I have much love in my heart for people. We can be in SAME CLUB!!”
He must have been a sight as he flew from his home in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to New York City, and on to Denver. He had flowing garments and carried a catheter bag in each hand. His large family said "You're crazy, stay home!". Yet he--who had never been out of his country--flew to stay with a younger brother near Greeley, CO. The goal was to receive QE from an American woman who did a thing called Quantum Energetics.
His brother knew two people with cancer who'd received tremendous help with Quantum Energetics. He was determined that his beloved elder brother would have those good benefits. The family at first asked if I would meet and work with Mohammed in Cairo, Egypt, since I could not fly into his country. I actually got my visa to go to Egypt, which I stumbled across recently. Now I'm amazed that I even considered making the trip, but there was the proof. Such budding plans were quickly abandoned and before I knew what was happening, Mohammed arrived here in Colorado.
Already weak, travel had drained him. I don’t generally make house calls, but because of this unusual situation, several times a week I made an hour's drive to work with this charming, swarthy, white-haired, missing-toothed man from half way around the world. He had about the most zest and alive spirit I'd ever encountered. Yes, he was in a lot of pain and often begged for the next pain-killer hours before its "time". His eyes sparkled and danced with enthusiasm for life. His charisma enchanted people I took along to visit him. We experienced the same thing: we didn’t want to leave.
I knew that he was not going to quit smoking because he'd threatened to divorce his wife over that issue. I got him to agree to cut "way down". As far as food, in a day's time his only intake had been a glass of milk, a 4 oz. glass of juice, and on some days, a piece of bread. When I said "That's not enough to keep anyone alive!" he defended: "But Miss Judy, I CAN'T eat--because if I eat, it doesn't come OUT!" I found three of our QE codes for denoting obstruction and inflammation in his colon and did the procedures to remind the body to begin healing those conditions. Within a couple of days, he complained because he had to get up and go to the bathroom nine times in three days, and it wasn't diarrhea. From then on, his bowels worked fine.
To get vital nutrients into Mohammed's ravished body, I asked his brother to buy a juicer, buy organic vegetables, and give him 6 glasses a day. Well, two glasses of juice was his max and he did begin eating. Soon he gained nine pounds, his strength increased, and pain diminished. As I worked through the sequence of codes in QE, I found many "bad" sites. Bladder metastasizes were in both thighs, his whole pelvis and sacrum, his lumbar vertebrae, and lower ribs. Additionally, mets had found their way to his left clavicle. On the medial end, a hazel-nut sized knob stuck out and he said "Please Miss Judy, don't touch. If you touch, electric pain all through body." So I didn’t’ touch. On the outer end of his clavicle was a larger bone tumor which was not painful to touch. His left arm hurt and useless; he asked me to avoid even brushing against it because he couldn't take the pain. After QE, the larger knob on his collar bone went away. The smaller one remained, but was no longer painful, even when I mashed on it. He began using that left arm in resistance exercises and to turn himself over in bed. His body was responding to Quantum Energetics with the strength that it had.
Several times a day, his ravaged body spiked a high fever (105+) in an apparent attempt to scorch its Hitler-esk intruder. When the high temperature came, all QE stopped. Doctors had instructed his brothers to dip clothes in ice water and place on his forehead, hands, and feet until the fever returned to a level that wouldn't affect his brain. Once with a fever of 102, he directed his brothers in a spirited Arabian folk song. I later told him that if I had a 102 fever, I wouldn't be singing for anyone. "Yes! It takes much energy to sing. I sing for you."
His singing may have been enabled by general lessening of pain. Whereas he’d often pointed to his bladder and sacrum as "The Seat of my Pain", he soon hurt there very little. The huge suitcase that had been filled with pain pills in punch-out cards was now empty. But now, he no longer needed strong pain killers. He either took an extra strength Tylenol or nothing. Day by day he felt better, gained weight and strength, and I looked forward to an outing to show him my Arabian horses. He insisted that if they were really registered Arabians they couldn't be as tall as they were.
Then everything changed. Mohammed decided that he should see an American doctor while in Colorado. At the next house call, his face told me that he had quit. Just quit. I asked "What had happened?"
He said glumly "The doctor told me I have zero chance of survival." And that was it. He was finished. I told him the doctors words should have been no surprise because doctors in Cairo had already told him the same thing six months before. "All that means is that there is no hope as far as Western Medicine was concerned, but that doesn’t mean that there is NO HOPE!" I reminded him that I'd already introduced him to a woman who had been full of terminal cancer throughout her abdomen and bones—who, with "no hope", had received QE more than 10 years earlier and was completely free of cancer. I took her to his bedside so that he could meet her. But there was no un-quitting him.
Mohammed said that he was going back to “Saudea”. I agreed. "Yes, you should do that." He was surprised. "What, Miss Judy, no lecture?" He knew that I’d see his leaving as giving up. “If you want to be with your family, then you should go.” I said. While he waited for arrangements to be made to return to Saudi Arabia, he wanted me to continue QE with him, so I did. But not for long.
One day, one of his cathers began leaking, bacteria followed the catheter into his kidney, and he quickly became septic. At the hospital, I spoke to him my last words of caring. He was in a coma but his eyes still turned sideways directly toward me and he seemed to hear every word. It was good-bye. When I went to the other side of the bed, his eyes followed me there. That night, his eyes rolled upward and he left his body, to be flown home in a box.
After 15 years, I still marvel at this Middle Eastern junkyard owner who traveled to Colorado to receive strange work from a strange woman. His zest for life was inspiring. Unforgettable. The progress that his ravaged body could make with a QE boost was astounding and a beautiful, powerful lesson in what the body can do. It doesn't always, but it can make profound shifts. It's something that I will never forget. The other thing that has stuck with me is that I saw progress go down the drain with the (male) doctor’s words. Mohammed lost all hope. I saw the power of the mind for destruction. I tried to counter it, but I couldn't.
I saw much goodness. “Miss Judy, you have much love in your heart for people. I have much love in my heart for people. We can be in SAME CLUB!!”
Judith - this is a beautiful story. You are a true healer and I am inspired by your grace.
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