With his take no prisoners approach Dr. Alan Cooper D.C. has dared to use his muscular little tome, I, CANCER to pose the nigh on unanswerable query regarding medical science?s malignant Waterloo. WHAT ARE THE MIND/BODY NUTS AND BOLTS OF A SPONTANEOUS REMISSION?Whether or not Cooper even comes close to pleading his case before the Holy Grail of Cancer will be up to you, the reader, to decide.Either way, his sub-title alone should give every Cancer sufferer the first clue on their Scavenger Hunt for survival. THE SEMI-BUDDHIST ANSWER TO DANCING WITH CANCER: YOU LEAD.

I, CANCER

THE SEMI-BUDDHIST ANSWER TO DANCING WITH CANCER ... YOU LEADBy Alan Cooper

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Dr. Alan Cooper D.C.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-4833-1

Chapter One

THE BEASTIAL BECKONING

The doctor's lips are moving, but as you rise from your body all you hear is a faceless burglar evocatively blowing 'Taps', the love song of demise. Pervading the room like a kleptomaniac fog, it confidently steals your world, having handily made paupers of princes and princesses long before you. Without blindfold, you watch as the executioner's words, encased in icy contrition, approach. It is the modern day leper's diagnosis, "YOU HAVE CANCER."

I, Cancer, am inside of you, and like the dizzying duplication of my cells flooding the human species with frightening Darwinian imperative; everything is cascading out of control. Oh my terrified angels please hear me. Though you will most likely reject my words, I have come as deliverer, not executioner.

I, Cancer, am a plant surviving in the desert of your biological paucity. I, Cancer, am not your adversary but a symptom of these times. I, Cancer, am not a terrorist blowing up the Twin Towers of your health and well-being. I, Cancer, am a collective, communal phenomenon of your species. I beseech you to behold me as such, rather than attempting to overcome me millions of lonely, thankless, Waterloos at a time. I, Cancer, do not insinuate myself into your life arbitrarily like a random visitation from a rogue virus, yet neither am I your Black Avenger, attacking the culpable and bypassing the innocent.

I, Cancer, am the epitome of your goal-oriented life styles. The way I flourish against all odds and survive most attempts to kill me, is this not impressive? Am I not a go-getter, a 'survive at all costs' hot shot like you humans admire so much?

Like a stealth mass murderer, your modern times, modern stresses, and modern indignation your species expresses about each and every pain, have been relentlessly squeezing the breath out of you. This oxygen deprivation, known as hypoxia, is killing you softly, lullaby and goodnight. Natures Law, the 'survival of the fittest', demanded that I challenge you to copy my unequivocal resolve to endure. I am intrinsically woven into you, so just ask, and I will bequeath to you my dominance.

I, Cancer, am your 'Screaming Tree of Whispers', digging roots into your flesh, dredging channels into your mind, and tunneling into the origins of your eternal soul. Oh I shall not deny that my pushy persona grates against the protective shield that encapsulates your life force. But experience me as I truly am, beneath your fear, and you will remember the undulations that connect you back to life's origin.

I, Cancer, am your hesitant lover, though you regard my penetration into your inner sanctums more like a rape than a holy invocation. So, call me 'rapist' I will not blanch, for hidden beneath the 'connect the dots' tra-la-laing of your normalcy has always been the latent stipulation of your starvation. If I didn't have my way with you, something far worse was about to cast a bitter mirror upon your face.

Chapter Two

THE DARWINIAN MASTERPIECE

As the sickly sweet suffocating seeds of science, technology, and progress were insistently sown into the structure of humanity's 'collective genetic coding', an individual's process of replicating billions of its body's cells became impaired.

What Sigmund Freud had coined the unconscious 'Death Wish', began threatening to drown the evolutionary genetic transcript of humanity's continuation.

Charles Darwin rolled over in his grave. "Survival of the fittest," he coughed out from his sarcophagus, and I, Cancer, nodded my anthropomorphic head in concurrence.

At the 'O.K. Corral', Freud and Darwin squared off. Darwin sashayed into the sunset leaving Freud in the dust.

I, Cancer, representing a fitter mutation than the near death dithering hypoxic hybrid of hell in a hand basket that threatened to dry up the riverbed of humanity, triumphed. I, Cancer, the Darwinian Masterpiece, am a flourishing life form and I feed off and devour the atrophying cells that would have doomed your species.

I, Cancer, the Darwinian Masterpiece, am the enemy of your enemy. I invite you to recognize the need for you and I to unite. Only when you remain aligned with the hypoxic cells that flounder, awash with 'death wish' weighted defeat, does your body appear to succumb to my supposed ravages.

I, Cancer, am not your chastisement, but rather a new form of pregnant life that with courageousness you can bring to term. Unfortunately, you fear me and wage war against me because I am the Jacob's Ladder connecting you to the teeming birthing force you build moats around your fort to deny entrance to.

Almost two decades ago basketball player 'Magic' Johnson was diagnosed as HIV Positive, and a solar eclipse descended over those who had basked in the sunshine of his exuberance. Yet all these years later Magic is as magic as ever and herein lies the mystery. Destiny did not strike Magic Johnson as a personal castigation but rather as an instrument for evolution. The vibrant breadth and depth of a human energy field can be more than enough fuel to power one past the seemingly insurmountable quicksand of your 21st century plagues. If an audacious scientist were to ever make an HIV vaccine out of Magic Johnson's blood, the genetic advancement accomplished inside the man with the mega-watt smile could be replicated for all AIDS sufferers.

Thus do I begin my metastasizing Darwinian journeys in so many of the best and brightest of your species? I, Cancer, breed inside you because humankind needs the magic molecular evolution any one of you could potentially produce within yourself in response to me.

Chapter Three

CANCER'S DELIGHT: FIGHT, FRIGHT AND FLIGHT

Within your body is a subconscious Autonomic Nervous System (A.N.S.) that functions automatically 24/7 to ensure that all your organs and glands are working optimally.

As opposed to the Motor Nervous System that carries out commands from your conscious mind and micro-manages your musculature for motion, the A.N.S requires no advice from you what so ever. Have you ever needed to remind your liver or spleen to do their duty?

The A.N.S. consists of two sub-divisions that fulfill the opposing needs of the yin and yang essences from which you sprang. Every cell of your flesh was created with the dual ability to respond appropriately to the contradictory signals of the two systems. To ensure this ambidextrous cellular proclivity, the genetic blueprint of your cells is encoded through a Double Helix, or two strands of energetically endowed replicas of the yin and yang forces that constitute Nature.

The Parasympathetic (yin) Nervous System instructs your body to quiet down, rest, digest, and drift down the proverbial river. Cellular healing and replication (anabolism) transpire during this parasympathetic stress-free biological state.

The Sympathetic (yang) Nervous System, the fight, fright, or flight subdivision, is designed to arise in swift bursts as a survival mechanism. Energy is directed outward towards the muscles, preparing them to use adrenalin and other sympathetic induced enzymes to fight or flee saber toothed tigers and their modern day equivalents. Any prior orders the parasympathetic nerves may have conveyed (implying that it was time for digestion or cellular replication), are countermanded by the immediate life-saving demands of the sympathetic nerves.

Yet, as life grew...