Little Paula's Story
2015-06-14 | Paula's Father

With permission of the father of a very brave young girl we met in Mexico, we would like to tell her story. She touched the lives of every person who met her with her strong, quiet maturity and smiling warmth, well beyond her years and frail frame.

This is Paula’s story. May it help you make the right decisions for your children and loved-ones.

After 8 months of various visits to specialists and hospitals for severe back pain, just being 12 years old, I was diagnosed with “growing pains” due to improper posture and sitting. This was the finding of various people who perform the duties of what is generally known as “a doctor”. Following referrals for physiotherapy and swimming and several more months of agony and the regular pain tablets to “fix the pain”, I finally ended up in the emergency room in the middle of the night with unbearable pain, after which, finally, an x-ray was ordered by an intern. I was diagnosed with pneumonia due to the shadow on my lung and I was sent home with medicines. After two weeks of “successful” treatment, my parents insisted on another x-ray being taken, which revealed, in spite of the doctors’ resistance to doing another x-ray, that the shadow was still there.

A CT scan followed which exposed the tumor. I had Ewing Sarcoma.

So what did I experience next? I experienced endless dreadful hours in cold, echoing hospital hallways, where I was exposed to oncologists who administered highly toxic and poisonous substances into my body. Experimental substances that made me violently ill; that made me weak; that made eating impossible which further broke down my already waning immune system; that made my hair fall out; that consumed two years of my life, which was only 13 years long when we started; that taught me to recognize fear and helplessness in my parents’ faces; that revealed angry or ignorant oncologists when challenged by my parents saying that what they were doing, was not working; treatment that was finally considered ineffective followed by a closing sale of morphine so that I “do not suffer more pain”… following the 1.5 million Euros my parents had already spent on the chemo treatment (hospital bills excluded), chemo that is not even indicated as bringing any improvement or effectiveness against Ewing Sarcoma...

So we stopped the chemo. And I returned to school in the final quarter of the year to finish the first half of my 8th grade, passing it blissfully with honours. My parents continued the search for answers and help, mailing around the world, whilst being battered and blamed by the oncologists that they, (my parents) are killing me for taking me off their chemo treatment… Threatening my parents with social services and welfare for not taking me back to the treatment that has to date still not healed any one. Criticizing my parents as incompetent (in comparison to them?) to make medical decisions or choices on my behalf...

With my violated immune system, I was finally welcomed in Mexico, after many hours of flying from Croatia and being held up at airports, pursuing the Issles program at an alternative clinic, where I met many people from around the world, old and young, who have been through the same sad, expensive, ignorant mill of the conventional treatment, where chemo is administered until it can no longer be tolerated when one is sent home to die with a bottle of morphine.

How obvious the trend of a money thirsty drug industry focused on profit and sale like a mafia rather than following the oath of doing no harm and healing and welfare.

Following a month of loving and laughing and living and learning and crying and eating healthy, colourful, whole foods and detoxing with coffee enemas, I enjoyed getting out once to see the vibrance and colour of a poor, yet humble and friendly people in Mexico. We returned home to continue the fight for my survival, to claw back what the chemo has taken out. But I did not know and not one oncologist told us, that once you have chemo, all it does is shrink the cancer and move it another organ, making the body immune to further treatment. The treatment of chemo is a death sentence. Shortly after returning to Croatia, my body started losing the battle and following an induced coma of 2 weeks, my heart stopped on 6 July 2009 and my family and friends who courageously fought with me, had to let me go...

If only conventional medicine would look at finding the cause… If only you would look at healthy nutrition to help the body’s immune system… If only pharmaceutical research was focused on healing and not making money… If only 

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