Losing my breast means...

Cancer didn't take my life though it's taking my breast. I let it go somehow. I created this. No one else did. Well, apart from environmental and medical pollution that interacted with my breathing and living and visits to doctors as a child for vaccines riddled with mercury, the same mercury that now seeps out from the tumor onto the bandages i wear, bandages soaked with raw coconut cream in order to keep the tumor moist, so that it doesn't scab and drop off, and while it stays moist, toxins are eliminated from the wound and my body is cleaning itself.

Losing my breast means....

I'm experiencing a slow, progressive dissolution of a part of my body. The body's own processes are causing fungi to rise up to dissolve it, hence, the film of yellow across parts of the wound, If I want to focus on it, I can smell the odor of yeast so I assume this fungus is candida but I'm not sure as I haven't had the film removed and tested in a lab. But I don't give that much credence to labs. I did some research and a few doctors have said the same thing, that the body produces bacteria, fungus to clean mutated, toxic areas of the body.


A natural mastectomy is quiet and slow and stinks and at times, when I remove the bandage carelessly, pulling bits of skin with it, it splits open and bleeds. Some days lightly, other days, it shoots out of a tiny hole in the tumor, a gushing thin streak full of power, up over my head, hitting the walls of the shower, slithering down the clear door, slapping against my chest, thighs, wrist.