*Editor’s Note: Elephant is not your doctor or hospital. Our lawyers would say “this web site is not designed to, and should not be construed to provide medical advice, professional diagnosis, opinion or treatment to you or any other individual, and is not intended as a substitute for medical or professional care and treatment. Always consult a health professional before trying out new home therapies or changing your diet.” But we can’t afford lawyers, and you knew all that. ~ Ed.
*Author Disclaimer: It is important to approach this story with the understanding that I do not, in any way, intend to demonize the Western medicine paradigm. Each healing system has its own worth and place in our society. In fact, Western medicine saved my life when I needed an emergency removal of my rotting gallbladder that was filled with stone and it cured my mom when she was battling a vicious cancer. Despite this, it’s my belief that Western medicine is incomplete and limited. It lacks a deeper understanding of the crucial, holistic connection between the mind, the body, and the energy system of the body.
On one balmy afternoon at an equestrian farm in the countryside of Quebec, I was preparing for a horseback riding lesson.
I was walking alongside Thunder, my large, hooved companion, toward the outside training arena, when I tripped on a random piece of wood.
Within a split second, I found myself facedown on the barn’s hard, cement floor.
I used my left arm to protect my face from the inevitable shock of the fall. When I stood up, a sharp and nagging pain emanated from my left wrist. Despite the ache, I decided to go through with the lesson.
After my hour of riding, I went back to the barn to unsaddle Thunder and set him free to live his domesticated horse life, grazing contentedly in the neatly-fenced paddock.
When I tried to lift the saddle from his back, I realized that the strength of my left hand was completely gone. As a friend came to help me out, I went to grasp my bottle of water for a drink, but I couldn’t lift that either. At that point, both my hand and wrist were useless.
Fraught with worry, I immediately departed for the city to go seek medical care. I was a 90-minute bus ride away from the hospital—the bumpy road made me acutely aware that my once mild pain was growing stronger by the minute.
Several hours later, I was sitting anxiously in the brightly-lit doctor’s office, waiting for the X-ray results. A young man in his 20s with a cocky attitude came in with their findings. According to him, the X-ray showed no abnormalities. Consequently, he sent me home with a handful of painkillers for my trouble.
“I have a really high pain tolerance and I can’t even hold my water bottle. It’s impossible that all is normal,” I told the doctor.
“You hit the concrete ground pretty hard. You’re just bruised. Give it a few days, and you’ll be fine,” he replied in a nonchalant way, before walking away to attend other business.
I arrived at my apartment that day feeling confused and untrusting of the diagnosis. I tried to close my eyes, but the ache forbade me from getting any sleep. In the early morning, the pain was so unbearable that I returned to the hospital.
“It’s a good thing you came back.” The doctor’s tune changed. “Your scaphoid is broken. It’s a tricky one—sometimes, it’s hard to see it on X-rays. But with the MRI, you can see the tiny break just here.” He pointed at the fluorescent picture of my insides.
“Okay…now what?” I asked.
His reply was less than encouraging. “Well, it can take anywhere from two to six months to heal. This type of fracture sometimes requires surgery. It’s a small but important bone that often heals poorly on itself. Its job is to enable the movement of the wrist. When untreated, it can lead to loss of mobility of your hand, as well as lifelong pain. For now, I’ll get you in a cast; you’ll have to come and check in every eight weeks.”
I was shocked. How could such a trivial accident have caused such devastating damage?
I ended up spending six long months in that cast. On my final appointment, I went into the hospital, hoping my bone had mended itself so that I could walk out a free woman.
“It looks like it’s not healing well. We need to operate,” announced the doctor.
My jaw dropped. “But I just spent six months in the cast! Is it really necessary?”
“It is. You have no other option,” he replied, and my heart sank. “You will need physio, too. It’s a recovery time of three to six months. The possible side effect of the surgery could lead to less motion and stiffness of the wrist and hand, but if we don’t operate, you could end up losing the entire use of your left hand.”
Those were some serious complications, accompanied by a lengthy road to recovery. They booked a surgery for the following week, but something inside of me sensed that this was not right. I went home, completely bummed out, and felt my spirit collapse to the ground.
I felt resistant toward the upcoming operation. To make things more complicated, I was also flying to Australia soon, and the surgery would get in the way of my departure. I was adamant that I would not miss that flight.
I began researching recovery stories from people claiming to use only holistic approaches and the power of their mind to overcome all kinds of diseases, injuries, and chronic pain. Intrigued, I dug deeper and soon stumbled upon the mind-blowing story of Dr. Joe Dispenza.
Here’s his story in a nutshell: a car ran him over while he was on a bicycle. He broke six of his vertebrae, ignored the doctor’s recommendations and refused surgery, even though they told him he would be left paralyzed if they did not operate. He went home and healed all of his damaged bones using his thoughts alone in just nine and a half weeks.
Here is the extremely simplified version of how he did it:
(For the full information, you can read: The Placebo Effect, Becoming Supernatural, or Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself.)
>> Firstly, he believed without any doubt that it was possible to heal his injuries on his own. The body has its own life intelligence and self-healing system, and can be intentionally directed through using a clear vision and a step-by-step plan. For a few hours each day, he meditated and visualized the healing process taking place within him.
>> Secondly, he focused all of his awareness on positive thoughts and elevated emotions, such as peace and joy. These feelings promoted the right energetic vibration for his cells to create an environment that encouraged healing. He surrounded himself only with people who believed in his method and allowed no space for fear, negativity, doubt, or skepticism in his life.
>> Thirdly, he surrendered himself and trusted the process. If he could heal half of his spine, why couldn’t I mend a single, tiny bone?
Inspired, I decided to call off the surgery. With the help of my jeweler friend Evelyn and her silversmith tools, we removed my cast in my living room. My arm was weak, skinny looking, and stiff as a wooden board.
Every day that followed, I partook in daily visualization. I pictured myself using my hand normally, lifting heavy things, feeling joyful, and doing all kinds of fun activities. I made sure to indulge in movies that made me smile, go for walks in the luscious botanical garden I lived next to, and hung out with my favorite people. Many times a day, I repeated the mantra, “My wrist is healing perfectly. I am pain-free and my hand is perfect.” I massaged my injury with castor oil every night and fed my body the most nutritious food.
Within weeks, I was able to hold a cup of tea in my injured hand. The pain was slowly fading, and I was gaining more dexterity.
It was working.
It’s in Australia that my healing reached the next level. The cheerful sun, overhaul of low stress, and good vibes of the surf town I lived in played a major role in my recovery. I was steadily feeling deeply relaxed and genuinely happy.
Still, I could not get my fingers and thumbs to touch each other without my entire hand shaking. To help my fingers heal, I purchased a sweet-sounding ukulele to practice moving my fingers while doing something enjoyable at the same time.
My unconventional ukulele therapy paid off.
Within two weeks, I was able to play the little stringed instrument with ease. My fingers responded to my mind, sliding from chord to chord at the appropriate timing. I had regained both the dexterity and strength of my hand and wrist.
I did it. I trusted my body to do its own work and supported it in the best way I could with the right nutrition and movements, as well as the correct mental and energetic state.
It has been eight years since the day Evelyn and I took off my cast with a single pair of shears against my doctor’s advice. My wrist is still doing great, and I have used these simple, yet powerful techniques again throughout the years. Over time, I’ve managed to accumulate a few more of these “miraculous healing stories.”
Here is one more that’s worth sharing:
About a year ago, I was living in Victoria, a small, yet fancy city overlooking the ocean. My partner Pat and I were walking downtown to Munroe’s, our favored bookshop, which is nestled in an old-fashioned building with a lofty ceiling and ceremonial windows.
I was browsing for a new read when my dear Dr. Joe’s newest book caught my eye: Becoming Supernatural.
Later that night, Pat and I lay on our stomachs, absorbed in our new books and sharing the narrow amber light that the small bed lamp cast above our heads. My self-interest in healing fully rekindled, and I exclaimed confidently to my partner, “I’m going to heal my eyes!”
“I believe in you,” he answered simply and truthfully, giving me a sweet kiss. He has always been a deeply supportive person, which I know for a fact played an important role in my healing process.
At the age of 21, I had developed a combination of slight astigmatism and myopia while in university, and began wearing glasses for reading. Back then, I was pretty ecstatic when I found out that my eyes were damaged; it was a lifelong dream of mine to have glasses. I wonder now, knowing that my thoughts directly influence my 3D reality, if I created my eye condition. It’s fully possible that I manifested this myself.
However, fantasy never lives up to expectations. I was now 34, still needing glasses and no longer enjoying them.
My new healing journey was similar process as the one described above. I practiced reading a little bit every day without my glasses on, did my affirmations, visualization, and mediation. I believed with all of my being in the power of my mind to cure my eyes. I spent much time in nature cultivating gratitude and laughed until my cheeks hurt (my partner is essentially a stand-up comedian).
My eyesight improved so quickly that my glasses stayed in their case by my bedside table after just one month of daily work.
The final move was to let go of them. It was a bit scary, but to keep them “just in case” was to reinforce the belief in my subconscious that I only half-heartedly trusted in my capacity to heal myself. At the same time, I wanted actual proof that my eyes were improving. I went to an optometrist to take an eye exam. To my surprise, not only did I pass it successfully—he called my vision “perfect.” I was stunned and proceeded to give my glasses away.
It has been nine months now that I’m glasses-free, and my vision is still flawless.
I hope that my stories have planted a seed of inspiration and possibility within you and that you feel empowered to take your health into your own hands.
The unlimited capabilities of the mind and body are able to work synergistically and in harmony with one another, going beyond everything we were ever taught. We are magical beings, and that magic is now starting to be understood, monitored, and measured by the science community.
They are slowly discovering that each of us are not defined by our genetic biology. It’s our environment, thoughts, and feelings that are the determining factors in the expression of our health.
Not only do we have the power, we are the power.