Sunday, 21 October 2012

And the dance goes on...

Over two months have passed and here I am: thinner (a puff of breath would blow me over), increasingly breathless, finding all stairs hard work, and with a numb left arm that won’t do what I want it to any more. It’s difficult but I am still able to feel the Autumn sun on my face and to look across Galway Bay, soaking in the beauty of it.

Last week I got the results of a scan which showed up two large masses around my left shoulder and neck. It was no surprise but somehow so hard to take in. The radiologist – a good doctor and one of only two to have apologised to me for the medical system’s failure to diagnose my condition when it was still treatable – suggested I have five doses of radiotherapy in the hope of shrinking the masses and relieving the pressure on my neck, head, ears and shoulder.

I finished the radiotherapy a few days ago but still feel like someone who has just come off a plane with blocked ears – sadly without the benefit of travelling anywhere – so it’s hard to tell how much it has helped at the moment. What we do know is that this was the last treatment on offer, there is nothing more doctors can do. Luckily I have never relied solely on the medical world and 
there are nurturing complementary therapies and supplements which soothe and support me.

The hospice has been mentioned by doctors more than once. I came close to being admitted a month ago when severe pain in my neck made it impossible for me to function or sleep. Thankfully the pain disappeared and I am still at home, managing with the support of my family and friends. My lovely Sarah has recently been over for a week of laughter, tears and the joy of being together. Despite all that she must manage, she is thriving and successful in her new job in London, working for a film production company, amazing girl.

In spite of the moments of darkness and dire medical news, I am so very blessed to have so many ceaselessly loving, generous, open hearted and kind people in my life. Someone once said, ‘If you want to help the miserable on this planet, do your very best not to be one of them’ and so I start each day by noticing the bright light of positivity that surrounds me.

Blessings for each of you,

Sunday, 5 August 2012

A toast to forgetting about time and living without clocks

I get asked how my Mum is all the time. I don’t mind answering, or talking about it, though I often feel you’d give as good an answer as me. Over the past six years or so, I’ve never once felt like I know what’s going on, how long it will go on for, or where she’ll be in a month’s time. It feels like we’re consistently waiting on scans, blood tests, appointments, memos from God or whoever works the rotas up there, etc. The whole situation squirms around itself as we’re told that they think this but are unsure of that, recommending further scans which never bring us any closer to the reality of her illness. About two weeks ago things started dipping - she stopped driving, getting herself outside to talk to the sea, and thinking like a survivor. A lot of us panicked and I flew home. Things felt different, the change noticeable not only in her leaf-like frame but in the whole picture. I have been home a few times since and I’m here right now, finding her more beautiful and strong than ever before although I know she doesn’t feel it.

~ Brigid's Garden, Moycullen ~

It becomes tricky to react when we’ve been dealt very similar cards in the past. At the start of 2011, a consultant’s dramatic use of her profession’s much beloved countdown method informed us that she only had two months, tops. Well over a year on and we’ve thankfully been spared any further dates of doom, instead privately formulating ones ourselves, subtracting time when she spends a night in A&E, adding it on when she gets a run of good days or a boost in appetite. A recent chest scan didn’t bear much good news although a brief GP check-up showed good air intake and capacity in her lungs, yet another medical contradiction of which we’ll focus on the positive. We’ve been indulging ourselves and having such lovely days, visiting Brigid’s Garden yesterday and stopping for brunch in one of our favourite caf├ęs by the river the day before. Though I don’t know what’s ahead I treasure that we can still enjoy the present together which is more than enough.  



Tuesday, 19 June 2012


This journey of surviving cancer for so many years has been a major life earthquake, strong enough for me to re-evaluate why I do everything in my life and why.  Just as I come up with that analysis, the local paper arrives through the door with the headline “Aftershocks not expected after quake causes rumble along west coast” This happened two days ago and shook parts of Galway and Mayo. “There were reports of dishes shaking in kitchen”, only the Irish would worry about their dishes – BLESS!!

Yes, I survived that virus and maybe a pulmonary embolism too but the warrior in me has me crawling my way to a little bit of daily strength.  Though my breathing is easier, I have on occasions coughed up slaps of my lungs and my spine is becoming a pain in the neck and down my arm again. This causes sleepless nights and light headedness from painkillers but one does anything to escape nerve pain.

There is little in the line of medical support now. My oncologist is exhausted from his efforts to get me on chemo and has referred me back to GP and Hospice care. He will only see me if I am desperate, which I am everyday! Still, it does not matter how painful the experience or unwanted an outcome it’s all a kaleidoscope of my life’s purpose.

There have been so many rich nuggets and I am so grateful for you and to you. You have been there every step of the way and I THANK YOU for giving my life purpose and meaning over this almighty challenge - this anonymous saying says it all  – “Do good hoping for nothing and your reward will be great” I truly hope so.

All my love,

Sunday, 29 April 2012

When you're falling...

Phew, this last month really took my sense of wellness for a walk. For the first time, I felt a challenge on my breathing and have had to stay home from my exercise classes and daily strolls alongside Galway Bay. 

On top of that, in an effort to polish me off completely, a vicious virus took me to the scariest place in a long while. With my resting pulse racing at a 100 bpm I felt like I was climbing Croagh Patrick a couple of times a day. I coughed for Ireland, was weak, exhausted, unable to eat/drink and completely bedbound. Thankfully precious friends and family swept in to cater for my every need, I am eternally humbled.

The (currently) weekly warnings from my Oncologist about the perilous progression of my lung cancer aren’t making this period too palatable either. I see him too often already and have yet another appointment next week! The biopsy we mentioned in the previous blog might be back for discussion, and he also plans to put me on blood thinners as the stent placed erroneously in my neck vein is now partially blocked.  

Sometimes, when the going gets tough, I veer towards anger but quickly recover when I think of this beautiful line: “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has pressed it.” A biblical quote I believe, and one that has always resonated with me deeply.

April has taken me on quite a trip. Today I feel strong enough to venture to the shoreline, chat to the sea, listen to the sea birds and smell Galway Bay. I can feel the month of May is on her way and look forward to the gift of longer days and healing energies.  I will let her waterfall of healing pour through me and uncover a new foundation of strength. I am strong.

May you be blessed for your care, love, patience and generosity towards me.

Remember your magnificence,
Molly x

Gratefulness Prayer

Thank you for the love in my life
Thank you for the love that surrounds me
Thank you for the miracle of life that I am
Thank you for my perfect body, my health and vitality
Thank you for the richness of my life
Thank you for the money that flows to me
Thank you for the excitement and adventure
For the millions of possibilities and probabilities
Thank you for the beauty and harmony
Thank you for the peace and tranquility
Thank you for the laughter and the play
Thank you.

Thursday, 8 March 2012

Vibrational confusion...

It’s a chilling thought that I was on the same vibrational frequency as cancer to have the ability to attract it in the first place. I’m still looking at the reasons for this but feel, as I’ve mentioned before, that it’s because I was never true to me, my feelings and my boundaries. I’m still working on all that and evolving new ways of healing my life, my way. I am not burning it, attacking it or nuking it. I’m leaving it be while doing a whole lot of natural whole body treatments and trusting that the infinite wisdom of my body is changing the vibration of every cell in order to heal. I am well.

And so the story continues with a recent lung scan showing a rather dramatic lesion progression over the last 6 months or so. The Oncologist was unsure whether these contained new growths or were perhaps just the enlargement of ones that were there already. Things are even more confusing since the results are compatible with the melting ice cube analogy that those of you who have read ‘Outsmart Your Cancer’ will be familiar with (Protocel apparently causing cancer cells to appear more exaggerated in scans due to the formula’s ‘melting’ effect on them). I was grateful to learn from the appointment however that the Thymus growth has been identified as the primary cancer with secondaries in the Thyroid, cervical vertebras and now the lungs. This is beneficial for pursuing the correct treatment path.

Medically though, they are firing in the dark. My cancer is very rare and therefore lacking in statistics/research anywhere in the world. As a precaution and in the event of me refusing his chemo recommendation, he has sent a specimen of my thymus to London for additional histology analysis.  A year late... but better now than never.  

I am told that my current sense of wellness, stable weight and lack of symptoms is because the growths are not pressing on vital anatomy. Still, he urged the commencement of chemotherapy which they planned for yesterday (7th March ’12). I have turned down this latest offer. The toxic mix, which offered no guaranteed benefits except symptom relief, would be the usual offered for any lung cancer and I very much doubt that it would have any effect on Thymus lung secondaries...

The biopsy results from London should be back in the coming weeks and it’s obviously a good idea to wait for that. I am pencilled in to see the Oncologist again at the very end of this month. Hope and trust are vital ingredients at this point, I am listening to the angel on my shoulder and will always opt for quality over quantity of life.

So far, it’s been a journey of iron determination, mini miracles and many years of misdiagnosis by the same medical profession who wish to now polish me off with chemotherapy! Physically, mentally and emotionally I have come a long way.  I feel pretty good, my breathing is easy, my colour is good and my energy levels are stable.  I’m back to doing everything I always did except that I don’t work or have a regular income which is testing at times. Nonetheless I’m looking forward to climbing a couple of mountains soon to give my spirit a dose of fantastic views from the coastlines of Galway, Mayo and Clare.

Precious friends, your support empowers my decisions. Your visits recharge me, your conversation inspires me and your generosity overwhelms me. I am blessed. May you be well, happy, healthy, wealthy and blessed too.

Molly x.x.x.

Saturday, 24 December 2011

So very grateful...

Barely under a year ago, I was in the midst of being paralysed by life’s circumstances. Thankfully I’m in a much brighter space now but WOW it’s been a humdinger! It’s my fervent hope that I carry on and make it into 2012 with my authentic self, what’s left of it, intact!

I’m still gathering myself together and keep in my heart that I will succeed on this mission to the miraculous. I am coming into balance and have opened my heart to healing itself and living gracefully in the moment and the mystery of life.

I certainly welcome a world of unlimited possibilities, relishing every opportunity to dispel the shadows that have been causing setbacks, hardships, weaknesses, ill health and ill wealth. I am very happy to surrender and release, release, release! I extend gratitude and love to my body, mind and spirit. My enlightenment is arriving in small instalments but I understand this is because the confrontation with the dark side of my nature is taking its time. I love what Master Lao Tzu says on the topic:

“Knowing others is wisdom; knowing the Self is enlightenment. 
Mastering others requires force; mastering the Self needs strength”

It’s been an exhausting journey that has allowed me to let go of relationships, jobs, belief systems, cellular memories, habitual crisis and stories. Indeed it’s all a story – a page in a book – that I may never re-read. I have just recovered from a kidney infection and am grateful to be setting off again on the journey to absolute healing. I hope to witness my life changing more than it already has and I WILL stay receptive, responsive, grateful and joyful, allowing what is meant to be to come to me naturally.

I am releasing myself as the hostage of my former life so I can embrace the dance of mystery and let all my experiences blossom. My greatest challenge will be the mental maintenance of trust, faith and the flow of healing. Certainly I am well ready for a new life, different experiences, and I hope this blog continues to be a source of activiation and support. If that is the case, here is the list of my current regimes, relevant websites and trusted suppliers that I use:

Low Dose Naltrexone:  can be prescribed by your lovely GP or from
Rio Amazon Pau d’Arco Tea:
Better Stevia instead of sugar:
Life Flora:
Super Pancreatic Enzymes or Wobenzym:
Super Bio-Curcumin:
Vitamin D Emulsion:

May your plans, wishes and visions for 2012 enable you to be powerful, abundant, inspired, creative, courageous, light-filled, happy and grateful. May you achieve your highest potential and be blessed in all your decisions. I honour each of you for allowing me to experience this journey with you. You are a blessing of immense goodness in my life and your generosity has taught me a different way of being.

Am I healing or healed? Time and the results of a CT scan of my lungs in February will tell. For now I’ll leave you with an old clip from The Late Late Show that gave me a laugh yesterday, don’t ask me why but the dancer reminds me of the rooster we had as kids on the Island...

Love to you and yours this season,
Molly x

Monday, 14 November 2011

Update and blessings

Hello all,

I’m astonished and excited to report that some MRI results recently came back showing marked improvements.  My oncologist was impressed and said I am in a good place heading into Christmas. He suggested a CT scan in January to check on my lungs but until then I’ll be mercifully doctor free. 

This great news motivates me further to blog in more detail about my recovery to full health and serve as a source of information and inspiration to enable others to make informed and powerful decisions about their cancer management.

A cancer cell is one that has grown out of control, forgotten its path and its sense of apoptosis (Programmed Cell Death). I see it as a part of myself that forgot who it was, this journey therefore becoming one of self-discovery, getting to know the real me – the good, the bad, the ugly.  The greatest shock is that I’ve never been truly honest with myself and as this emotional unravelling of my cancer continues, I’ve come to view truth as vitally important in everything I do.  I look forward to meeting the real Molly at the end.

I am constantly listening and noticing the positive via words, music, books and nature. Hay House Radio, The Aware Show and You Tube Clips of my favourite healers and natural cancer experts keep me in the loop.  I just finished a 5 day World Cancer Summit via the internet which has been most useful in reminding me to keep walking my talk.  To aid this work, I am currently doing another Mindfulness course. It’s the work of John Kabit-Zinn ( and trains my mind and body to notice that no external distractions deserve my energy, much less my attention.   Easier said than done however! I feel it will take some time before the construction of these new neural thinking pathways is complete.

The nights are getting longer and colder as I find my body and life force turning inward, hibernating and dreaming of the future whilst becoming the CEO of my own wellbeing.  I am noticing very positive changes and though I’m not yet confident enough to make plans for the future, I am bold enough to have a few brewing in the recesses of my mind

We are living in extreme times and I pray that as we close this 5thcycle of world age (that has spanned more than 5,000 years) that healing energies will flow with profound results and give everyone living with a life-threatening illness a new chance to build a different reality.  I credit my recovery so far to your support and care and I am so grateful for the miracles you have unknowingly given me.  You have touched my heart and continue to help me become a more honest person.

I hope that the triple energies of 11.11.11 will bring you a great wave of love, contentment and an awakening to the simple wonders all around you. Wishing you heaven in your heart and a peaceful alignment with the natural ebb and flow of life. This poem by Juan Ramon Jimez struck a chord with me this week and I hope it might inspire you too...

I have a feeling that my boat
Has struck, down there in the depths,
Against a great thing.
And nothing happens!
- Nothing happens?
Or has everything Happened
And are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?

Blessings and care....Molly

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

Bystander Syndrome


So this blog has been up and running for nearly six months - a length of time that feels as disconcertingly short as it does tediously long. A lot has changed since I moved home to help out in January and I’d like to finally put some words to the personal adventure I’ve been on, in my head, since then.

Having a parent with cancer is among one of the strangest things I’ll ever go through. Though I’m only 24, I think I can make that futuristic statement because I can’t imagine anything stranger than the feeling of losing the person that put you here. Of course, that can be said about every illness, so I should elaborate...

Molly has had cancer for seven years, a figure we’ve sometimes estimated as longer since she went undiagnosed for so long. Looking back, I actually remember her being off-form since we moved to Ireland in 1996, fifteen years ago. It was a stressful time for her and I was constantly worried, to the point that I would sneak into her room at night and listen for her breath to be sure she was ok. Paranoid? Yes. Protective? Yes. Paranormal? Sure, why not. Whatever it was, my memories from those early years, both the wonderful and less than wonderful, all sit in a troubled cloud of some sort. I’d like to claim some psychic powers here and suggest that I could foresee what lay ahead, but it was more likely an uncertainty about the new life we’d landed in, void of the familiarities of the past nine years since my birth in London.

I was the weirdo in my new class, coming in half way through Primary School with an accent my classmates didn’t like the lilt of - Standard Foreign New Kid Syndrome. I was quite solitary, growing ever close to my mum and hence developing a need to constantly check she was still there for me.

Her first cancer made itself known when I’d grown up a little and started making the world my own by trying to lose my accent. I was studying for exams when a sudden hysterectomy was ordered. Things were quickly very different and though I don’t remember details, I do remember panic. I guess it was my first brush with what was soon to push into our lives and settle down for an unwelcomed spell. Molly has since been through four further cancers and our lives have adapted as a consequence, changing us individually and as a pair.

Going through cancer is rough, rougher than rough to get technical about it. Living with someone going through cancer is ... dot dot dot exactly. I don’t think there is a description for it? Truth is, as much as you want to wallow, you’re essentially a bystander not a victim. Perhaps victim by association, or a passive inhaler of the chaos if you will, but not the true victim. This creates two different worlds or realities that may try very hard to understand eachother but ultimately can’t. Living with a cancer warrior can often create a messy carpet of eggshells and landmines where both of you are easily sparked off and equally eager to shift the blame and responsibility for the mess. Of course, neither of you being at fault means that the anger, guilt and frustration just gets thrown around as you try to understand and reason with a wholly unreasonable situation. ‘Getting’ eachother becomes trickier and it’s harder to deal with personal issues that consistently show up as fickle when living beside a battle of bigger importance.

A situation like ours therefore has the power to bond or break. My experience has brought a blend of both, the hardest times often stemming from arguments and dramatic splittings of opinion on trivial things that are really just masks for bigger, underlying monsters. We’ve been through this so many times now that we’ve put up walls not just to protect us from life but from eachother. Two people living alone together always carries the risk of getting heated but two people plus cancer becomes a whole new kettle of fire. When so much changes in a year it becomes difficult to know what to think or hope for anymore, the relationship with my mum being just one of many emotional casualties that has yet to steady out. It’s clear we need to work at understanding eachother, something we’ve recently lost control of and that has unsteadied the bond that supported us through the move to Ireland. Returning home has shown that this will take time and perhaps even a whole new education in our changed realities and personalities.

Living with this disease is something I continue to be baffled by. I wish I could say it gets easier to handle but each day brings new a fear or lesson that makes me question the plan of action I’d settled on the day before. It’s appearing to be a very hard thing to master indeed...


Friday, 7 October 2011

Molly's current treatment - Part 1 - Protocel

The National Cancer Registry's 2011 report brought us news that one in three men and one in four women in Ireland will contract cancer in their lifetime. Such a depressing statistic should ideally be accompanied by an inspirational solution and though I can't promise this post will deliver it, I will detail something that Molly has found helpful in her crusade to swap her position in the statistics, becoming one of the three in four instead.

Protocel presented itself at a time when Molly was combining a lot of different treatments including Vitamin IVs, dried herb mixtures, fish oils, homeopathy, wheatgrass, Selenium and more. A large part of its appeal was the fact it works best when used with very little else, a godsend to a patient like Molly who was juggling and consuming a large number of different products with little information on how they all interact with eachother - a common issue for those challenging cancer with complementary medicine. Every new day seems to bring a new cancer-fighting supplement or superfood, making it difficult to know where to limit your intake. There is a large list of items to 'avoid' when taking Protocel as, although most of them are very beneficial as cancer fighters in their own right, they may interfere with Protocel's depletion of ATP energy production - becoming counter-productive.

(Before I go on, it's important I make clear that although Protocel was originally created as a cancer treatment, it is not currently sold or advertised as one, and is marketed with no claims as to its effectiveness against cancer or any other disease.)

Protocel, as quoted in the main body of published work on the formula (Pierce's Outsmart your Cancer, detailed below), "specifically targets cancer cells in a way that makes them eventually fall apart and die, leaving normal healthy cells unharmed". It was created in the Eighties by an American chemist, Jim Sheridan, who took interest in the theory that all cancer cells are primarily anaerobic: surviving on glucose without the need for oxygen. Protocel targets these cells by interfering with their anaerobic energy production, leaving healthy aerobic cells unharmed. The formula is essentially made up of varying amounts of Copper, Sodium and Potassium. This shortened quote from Outsmart your Cancer explains the science behind Protocel in a way I could only fail to:

  • "When a person takes Protocel regularly every day, the formula biochemically lowers the voltage of every cell in the body just a little bit. This results in an approximate voltage reduction of about 10 to 15%, Protocel accomplishing this by interfering with the production of ATP (adenosine triphosphate) in the cell. Because anaerobic cells obtain energy through the fermentation of glucose (instead of oxidation like normal cells), they operate on a minimum energy level and sustain a much lower voltage than normal cells. The slight reduction in general voltage caused by Protocel shifts the cancer cell's own voltage to a point below that which they require to remain intact. When this happens, these cells breakdown or "lyse" into harmless protein. In other words, they are unable to hold themselves together and fall apart. Healthy cells remain unaffected by the slight voltage reduction making Protocel deadly to cancer cells but harmless to the rest of the body."

Molly began using Protocel on July 11th of this year. She takes 1/4 of a teaspoon of the mixture every 6 hours in a small glass of water. The volume of water actually mixed with the Protocel doesn't make a difference but it is recommended to consume two and a half litres independently over the course of each day anyway. Molly takes a dose at 2pm, 8pm, 2am, 8am, and so forth. This involves her mobile phone alarm going off at strange and unsavory hours (e.g. just after falling asleep, half way through a film etc) but without these programmed reminders, she would most likely miss taking the stuff 90% of the time, every time. The reason for equally spacing the four doses across 24 hours is to ensure a steady therapeutic level of Protocel in the body at all times, effectively "starving cancer cells to death".

Protocel is highly contested in conventional medicine and rarely, if ever, mentioned in the media. Opposition from the American Cancer Society, National Cancer Institution, and the Food and Drug Administration has meant no clinical trials could be carried out to attain reliable and official statistics. The formula is therefore only documented by small numbers of devoted scientists, doctors and researchers, but the information is out there. Real-life recovery testimonials as a result of Protocel can be found at and Tanya Harter Pierce's book of the same name (Outsmart your Cancer: Alternative non-toxic treatments that work) is worth the purchase for any of you interested in further details. It contains depthy but easy to understand explanations of how Protocel works along with 15 case studies of the formula in action and a whole chapter of the essential "do's" and "don'ts" to follow when taking it. 

In Molly's case, this treatment has proven to be both cost effective and health effective in her recovery and stable current condition. She is awaiting a further scan in the coming weeks, the results of which will hopefully put some solid grounding under our faith in this formula.

Some additional helpful links and info:

  • Elaine Hulliberger's book Winning the Battle Against Cancer, 2nd Ed., 2010. (On, or at
  • Protocel support forum,
  • Molly buys her Protocel from the Vitamin Depot (Ohio),, a bottle typically costing around $135 and taking 10 - 14 days to arrive.

Take care,