Peter Lalor

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November 21, 2005

Visiting George

I last wrote everyone awhile ago and I haven't managed to write everyone again. Plus I said I'd tell everyone what's happening for my request for donations to build a house for us. I'm going to defer that a little longer, so I can tell you this...

At the beginning of this year, a month after my initial biopsy, I received an offer to take me to an ancient Aboriginal who can heal, often known as Grandfather George. He had been told of my diagnosis and prognosis, and had told people they could bring me up to him in far northeast Australia. Being so early in the journey and hunting around the world for neurosurgery, we didn't do it.
A month ago, having already put into place everything she could find, Jennifer hit a point of wanting action again. I had never forgotten the possibility of seeing Grandfather George. She immediately called the man who had told us of him, and he arranged that the very next day we'd meet him, Sambodh, and a local Aboriginal, Wayne, so that he could tell us about George, as Wayne himself had been cured of a terminal illness around the time my own started but hadn't yet revealed itself. Looking back on it, I had already decided to go to George, so when we met and the guys were ready to arrange everything and really take care of me it was easy.
Jennifer and I soon realized that we had had the meeting a year to the day since my initial grand mal seizure.
Ten days later the guys and I flew up to Cairns, rented an all-wheel-drive, and headed inland into north Queensland. After several hours we camped by a river, then got up early the next morning and arrived at the tiny Aboriginal town of Laura. Grandfather George wasn't around, although we knew he would be because he knew we were coming. We set up our camp very close to his house, and after several hours we saw a vehicle at his house so Wayne drove the one minute to see if he was there. A few minutes later he came back and told me that George was there and had said he'd heal me the next morning but wanted to see me right then, so I hopping in and we went to his house.
He was right outside it, and when we walked over to him he looked at me and said that he'd treat me right then. He put a plastic chair down in the yard for me. I sat in it and he went over to a tap outside his house and got a plastic mug, which he put a little water into. Then he walked over to me, put the cup on a table I was near, and stood behind me. I couldn't see him, but Wayne later explained what I couldn't see. Grandfather George was passing his hands over my head from front to back, without touching me, and looking pained. "Deep, it's deep", he kept saying. Several times he went over to his tap and rinsed his hands, and he also put his fingertips into the top of the cup. He had his fingers wet at times and drew his fingers back from my forehead to the back. "Ah, got it", he said at one point after only a few minutes. He put one of his forefingers onto the centre of my skull pointing straight down and then stepped away, saying it was done. The tumour was gone.
Knowing I couldn't see inside the cup, Wayne asked George if I could see it and he put it close on the table so I could. The cup had some reddish-pink liquid in it. George asked if I'd seen enough, and then rinsed it out with more water. He then said we could come back the next morning to ask questions.
Wayne and I drove the minute back to where we were camping. He suggested that I think of questions for the next day. I was awake much of the night, and as time passed I felt that there were no questions worth asking other than one. When we went back the next morning I asked him if I was healed and the tumour was gone. Yes. Gone. Wayne filmed a little of George for me and had him talk about it some, but I was feeling that George was an amazing, valuable man with much to do; he had taken care of me and I didn't want to take his time, even though he was there, available for us right then.
He had much to do, and we soon left and began our drive back to Cairns, spending the night again by the river where we had spent it on the way there. We could have done the entire trip in only three days, so we had an extra day of travel and cruised around.

I have had neurosurgery three times, costing much memory. Will it restore itself? I am on anti-seizure medications that greatly limit my emotions. Would I still have seizures without them? Jennifer and I are slowly reducing them to see if they are still necessary. At some point we will try to get a scan to see what it sees.

The journey continues…

Posted by Peter at November 21, 2005 05:30 PM

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