Of course you can!
What matters is how one felt about one’s partner or mother, or child at the moment of DHS.
I was often traveling in Asia, mainly Thailand, for a few years starting in 1994. At that time, I had a Thai girlfriend named Nom. I was with her for four years. I still remember well the preparations when I took her to Austria for the first time. Plane ticket, visa, insurances, warm clothes. I felt responsible for my girlfriend, like for a child. Even though she was an adult at 22, and I also perceived her that way. Only she had never been outside Thailand before. Everything in Europe was foreign to her. She spoke no German, and it was clear to me that at first, she would be as helpless as a child without me in Austria. I bring her into a completely different, for her absolutely alien world. If something should happen to her, I am responsible because I had brought her with me. In Thailand, she is at home, there she knows her way around, and there I perceived her as an adult, but not in Austria. Because if I had not taken her with me, so something would not have happened to her. So my sense of responsibility towards her.
Everything went well. She settled in quickly, and since I was often traveling for a few weeks on business and she stayed alone in Vienna, she also quickly learned the German language. But she was not reading and writing.
As it is with relationships between such different cultures, our relationship also failed after four years. Nom decided to stay in Austria after our separation. She met another man, whom she then married. I could not speak with her husband; he was a 100% system follower. If something is not in the newspaper, it does not exist. But her choice, her life.
Years passed, and I still remember this in detail. I was once again in Thailand, and I called her in Austria because I wanted to ask the phone number of a mutual acquaintance in Thailand.
She could not give me the number because it was at her home, but she was in the hospital. In the hospital? What happened? She had leukemia and was receiving chemo.
That was in 1999. My knowledge of Germanic was sketchy then, but I knew where to check everything out. I remember that I admonished her to go home immediately. In 3 days, I would be back in Austria; then I would come and save her.
After arriving in Vienna, I copied a thick pack from the Golden Books, hoping that her husband would read it. (she still could not read German) For her, I got a cassette player with headphones so she could listen to audio cassettes and an interview with Dr.Hamer.
I remember sitting with her in the hospital room and trying to explain to her what she had and that she had to get out of oncology immediately; they would murder her here.
A female doctor came in a good mood and with a “good morning.” My thoughts, “Get out of here you murderer!”My face had probably expressed the exact same thing. She turned around and was gone.
I tried to make Nom understand that she had to get her husband to read all that I had copied and she had to stop the therapy immediately.
Of course, I was fighting a losing battle. She didn’t understand anything I had told her about what was then still New Medicine, and her husband certainly hadn’t read a word of what I had copied for him.
The health insurance had flown in her youngest brother from Thailand as a bone marrow donor and the whole program was reeled off.
During a break in therapy, I met Nom again in a café. There she already had no more hair and wore a headscarf. At these meetings, I must have finally solved a conflict. I did not have to comfort her; she comforted me. She was emotionally in the best condition and explained to me that it would not be a problem at all if she did not survive. She would simply come back in a new body but then choose an easier life. As a devout Buddhist, you don’t take things so dramatically.
At these meetings, I understood that she would continue the therapy no matter what, so I gave up my fight for her. I probably said goodbye to her internally at that point. She was an adult, married, and had her own life to decide for herself. It was no longer my fight for her, and I was no longer responsible for her.
The following night, I woke up with a nagging toothache. I requested an emergency appointment with the dentist and just wanted this molar on the left side (I am right-handed) out. But the dentist refused, saying the tooth was healthy. She opened the gum with a metal tool, pus and other secretions poured out, the pressure was gone, and immediately the toothache stopped.
The dentist explained something about bacteria that had gotten into the interdental space and caused inflammation, a gum pocket. A sweet-tasting clear liquid came out for weeks until everything healed on its own.
At the next study group, Helmut explained what was happening in my jaw. I had resolved a conflict of not being able to bite with my mother or my child. Now I would be in the healing phase. The affected jawbone is now recalcifying, which forms edema under the periosteum and is very painful. The dentist had opened this edema so that the pressure could escape and the pain stopped. The healing phase continues, of course, but it takes a little longer this way. Typically, the sweetish clear liquid from the opening.
The problem, at that time, I had no children, and with my mother, I had enough conflicts to have had no contact for a whole six years, so there was no possibility of potential conflict from that side.
So it can’t be any other way than that I still carried the feeling of responsibility for Nom, like for a child. Like when I had first taken her to Austria. This feeling had never changed.
There are two possibilities for the timing of the DHS. When I learned on the phone in Thailand, Nom was doing chemo—wanting to bite the entire medical system away from her as an enemy. Or more likely, when I saw the doctor coming in, sitting at the bedside. (Stay away from her! = I tried with teeth and claws to fend off the approaching enemy).
But the story has a happy ending. I met Nom again by chance 12 years later. She had her long hair back, was healthy so far, but could not have children anymore. To this day, she is the only case I know of who had gone through the entire program with three chemo blocks and bone marrow transplant to the end and still lived. Not just the statistical five years. I met her again 12 years later.
How can someone survive this poisonous torture for so long? I can only explain it this way. When we met during the therapy break in the café, she gave me the impression of absolute Buddhist devotion and balance—the readiness to accept unconditionally everything that would come without reservation. For sure, she had no fear of death or other typical follow-up conflicts active. She could even laugh about her baldness. With her Buddhist calmness, she could even bring my conflict at the jawbone into a solution. Maybe that is the reason how she could survive all this.
Note by H.Pilhar
An interesting case in several respects.
One feels a partner in the rarest case as a child, and I asked whether he wanted to have children with the Thai girl or whether his mother would have been against this relationship. All this the writer denied.
He also describes very well why he felt his partner was a child. What counts in Germanische Heilkunde is what the affected person says. Everybody has his reality, and the therapist of Germanische Heilkunde (I am not one) must be able to get involved in it.
His conflict, however, was probably not the doctor or the medical system he wanted to keep away from his girlfriend, but he could not carry “his child” away from the danger zone with his teeth. Mine is imagining a mother cat carrying her kitten.
This insane pseudo therapy with chemo or even worse with high-dose chemo killed the patient’s child. That she survived it herself is bordering on a miracle. A firm faith can protect one from conflict. For example, devout Christians always have their dear Jesus with them, which means that isolation is not given, and DHS is more difficult to occur than with non-believers.