The murdered pet story

Many illnesses “come in” after big life crises, the death of a family member, a friend, a severe car crash, a burglary. An example of this was when a woman, Patricia, came to me with diabetes. She’’d just been diagnosed.

““I used to have terrible leg ulcers”,” she told me. “But an Indian doctor cured them completely. “Look – there are hardly even any scars”.”

And that was true. Her legs were almost perfect.

I asked her what unpleasant thing had happened to her BEFORE she developed leg ulcers – maybe a year or eighteen months before.

She replied instantly with great distress, ““Our house was burgled. But the terrible thing was that the burglars killed our little dog and when we came home we found it dead on the kitchen floor!””

Patricia needed her diabetes because her leg ulcers had been removed, yet she was not healed. The underlying trigger brought tears to her eyes the moment she remembered it. She wept with disappointment at the loss of her pet and unexplored grief.

Sometimes we need our illnesses.

They fill us.

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