some of us know this

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And those who don't, or who prefer to let it slide, need to recognize it and take responsibility for it. I know too many people who just bat it off, saying they're doing fine without watching what they eat. Thing is, one tends to think that until it's too late.

GeorgeAnn was someone who knew this... better than most, and actually was something of a crusader on the subject. She never brought up the part about how she had cancer until she was almost dead, but her house was filled to the rafters with alternative cancer treatment stuff people had been sending her for years. She left it all in the boxes in which it had arrived.

She knew for YEARS before she had Granny Fussbudget tell the world, but made it sound as though she'd just been diagnosed. I thought I was going to help her get her diet and supplements right to beat this thing, and she let me think that in order to get someone there who would feed her dogs and find them homes when she died.

The first sign had been eight years before. The confirmation had been two years before... when she needed proof to apply for a vaccine settlement. A vaccine didn't do it to her, but she was about money, about tricking money out of others, and stockpiling it to leave to her son. She'd figured she was a shoo-in for a fat settlement. This is what is known as "fraud".

I drove all that way to find the end of an extremely bright woman who'd spent her whole life engaged in fraud and utter neglect of everything that did not further her livelihood. Fraud. She did spoil the living snot out of her dogs, but she neglected them in fundamental ways too.

People tell me I've been too harsh on her.

I have been kinder to her than anyone in her entire fraud of a life. No one who knew her would do as much, and no one who only thought they knew her did do as much, to ease her misery.

She was busy "easing her own misery" — eating jam with a spoon straight from the jar — when I got there. The tumor in her uterus had grown into her bowel and blocked it. I don't think it had burst yet or I'd have to have called an ambulance instead of driving her across the street to the Choctaw ER. Anyway, one of the few people who knows for sure that sugar makes cancer go told me her excuse for eating sugared sugar was that she couldn't poop. She said food made her barf because she was so backed up there wasn't anywhere else it could go.

This was code for, "I can't eat pies and candy bars anymore."

Tumors too small to kill you? Eat sugar, and don't slow it with proteins and fats. Go all carbs all the time and, boom, you've got tumors that will shock the most experienced oncologist on earth. Everywhere.

So. There was a woman whose entire approach to health was NO DOCTORS! [unless you need one to sue a pharmaceutical company] doing the one thing she knew would ensure her whole body would fill with tumors, refusing everything I tried to do for her and spending her waking moments nagging for me to sit with her and watch tv together.

She was trying to die but didn't want to be eaten by the cockroaches and dogs. That was why she lied me two thousand miles away from home. It took me only hours to realize this, and asked her point blank if she was trying to kill herself. She said, "I don't care." She said it in her real voice, not the daffodil high-pitched sweet thing tone she used on the world. No. It was low and cold and definite.

I told her we should go to the hospital, that she was for sure already dead, but the doctors could make it less painful. Her response shook the walls and almost ignited the gas leak.


I said, "You will change your tune when the pain gets bad enough."

She'd forgotten that part when she plotted her long suicide.

The brilliant fraudstress forgot the part about how bad the pain would be.

always and any time....