Unleash Your God-Given Healing: Eight Steps to Prevent and Survive Cancer

Copyright © 2020 Ginny Dent Brant.

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ISBN: 978-1-9736-8812-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-8811-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9736-8848-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020904730

WestBow Press rev. date: 03/16/2020

Medical Disclaimer: This book offers health and nutritional information for educational

purposes only. I am not a doctor or medical practitioner. I am a layperson and cancer

survivor who has consulted with many health professionals and done extensive research.

The contents of this book are not intended to be a substitute for professional medical

advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other

qualified health provider before beginning or changing any health or eating habits to

make sure it is appropriate for you. Please do not disregard, avoid, or delay obtaining

medical or health-related advice from your healthcare professional because of something

you may have read in this book. The author and publisher assume no responsibility

for any injury that may result from changing your health and eating habits.

Disclaimer and Terms of Use: Every effort has been made to ensure the information

in this book is accurate and complete. However, the author and publisher do not

warrant the accuracy or completeness of the material, text, and graphics contained

in this book. The author and publisher do not hold any responsibility for errors,

omissions, or contrary interpretation of the subject matter contained herein. This book

is presented for motivational, educational, and informational purposes only in helping

your doctor to beat your cancer. This book is sold with the understanding that the

author and publisher are not engaged in rendering medical, legal, or other professional

advice or services. Neither the author nor publisher shall be liable to damages arising

herein. And always keep your doctor informed of all lifestyle changes.— GDB

Written in gratitude to a loving God, who made our bodies to

heal and has provided so many healing agents in nature.

To my husband, Alton, my Tin Man, who always had a heart and

loved me unconditionally through the toughest journey of my life.

This book is for those who want to prevent cancer or recurrence,

for those who must endure the journey, and for every caregiver who loves them.

And this is the book I never wanted to write!

CONTENTS

Foreword

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1     Risk Factors: What about This Baptist Lifestyle?

Step One: Water

Chapter 2     Hydrating Your Body

Step Two: Sleep

Chapter 3     Restoring and Rebuilding Your Body with Deep Sleep

Step Three: Exercise

Chapter 4     Moving Your Body toward Optimum Health

Step Four: Nutrition

Chapter 5     Food as Powerful Medicine

Chapter 6     Fats, Gluten, Dairy, and Sugar

Chapter 7     Organics, Herbs, Oils, and Supplements

Step Five: Managing Stress

Chapter 8     Living Your Faith to Manage Stress and Emotions

Chapter 9     God’s Remedies for Healing Emotions

Step Six: Thankfulness

Chapter 10   Practicing Gratitude as an Attitude

Step Seven: Detoxification

Chapter 11   Reducing Environmental Toxins

Chapter 12   Detoxing to Reduce Your Toxic Load

Chapter 13   The Invisible Toxin

Step Eight: Healing the Gut

Chapter 14   Restoring Your Microbiome

If You’re on the Pink Brick Road…

Chapter 15   For Breast and Estrogen-Fed Cancer Only

Destination: Emerald City

Chapter 16   Promoting Longevity while Anticipating Heaven

Afterword

Notes

FOREWORD

I am honored to write the foreword for Ginny Brant’s book about accepting the challenge of a cancer diagnosis and taking dedicated steps to beat it. A cancer diagnosis is devastating news for any person. It is for most people something that happens to someone else. The moment a person receives the news immediately causes a cascade of immunosuppressive emotions such as fear, anxiety, stress, anger, and denial. The person’s first thought is often, Am I going to die? What about my family? My job? My dreams?

This book is the result of one woman’s cancer journey. Through courage, faith in God, and being proactive in battling the disease, Ginny survived this difficult journey. She did it by seeking out and taking the necessary steps to achieve victory. Now she has been called by God to share these steps with other cancer victims to help them navigate the ups and downs and twists and turns of this journey. These steps also help anyone who desires to prevent cancer.

In these pages you will read something of Ginny’s personal cancer story, including the initial shock, the ensuing fear, the difficult medical decisions, her treatment plan, and how it all impacted her. But keep in mind that this was her journey, and your journey is only yours. Each cancer is different and unique to each individual. With breast cancer, even the same cell type may have a different tumor biology, stage, and genetic mutations. Your journey may be similar and yet be totally unique to you.

Your main goal is to achieve complete remission. Ginny has provided you with a tremendous roadmap involving eight powerful steps to help you reach that destination. I like all of these steps, but I ask that you give special attention to those involving hydration, rest, exercise, using food as medicine, relying on your faith to manage stress, and healing the gut.

As you read this book, be strengthened and encouraged. Don’t get lost in the details of the science, but stay focused on what applies to you. Hear and receive the core message of each step without putting undue pressure on yourself to completely implement every suggestion. Do not feel guilty if you cannot follow each step totally, but commit yourself to be disciplined, keep a positive attitude, and engage in daily prayer. If you are diligent in implementing these eight steps to the best of your ability, they will help you to unleash the God-given healing within you.

God Bless,

Dr. Robert L. Elliott, MD, PhD, DSc

Director of the Elliott–Elliott–Head Breast Cancer Research

and Treatment Center in Baton Rouge, LA

Surgical oncologist, medical researcher, and owner of several cancer patents

Adjunct Clinical Associate Professor of Surgery, Medicine, and Biochemistry

at Tulane University Medical School

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A special thanks to my wizard of an editor, David Webb, whose wisdom and experience has only enhanced this book. I also want to thank my tribe of friends who offered editing advice and encouraging support throughout the writing of this book: Stacey Smith, Chris Jarrard, April Warner, Pam Boller, Sharon Dillman, Tracie Dent, and Carol Montgomery.

I will always be grateful to the many doctors, naturopaths, nutritionists, nurses, technicians, and even drivers who poured their gifts into me and offered prayers and words of encouragement. Your caring service and willingness to serve me during my years of need are greatly appreciated. Special recognition goes to:

Dr. Kenna Barber, Naturopath

Dr. Miral Amin, Surgical Oncologist

Dr. Daniel Lui, Reconstructive Surgeon

Dr. Nimish Patel, Radiologist

Kimberly Randolph, Nurse Practitioner

Dr. Christopher Stephenson, Internist

Dr. John Schuler, Family Medicine

Dr. Ritwick Panicker, Oncologist

Dr. Amber Passini, MD

Colleen Mooney, Dietician

Finally, many thanks to all those who offered help and prayed for me through my journey.

INTRODUCTION

The Unexpected Journey

Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on

eternal life, to which you were also

called and have confessed the good confession

in the presence of many witnesses.

—1 Timothy 6:12

Ten months earlier, while visiting my eighty-two-year-old mother in Columbia, SC, she broke the shocking news to my husband and me: I have breast cancer. With a twinkle in her eye she added, This may be my ticket to heaven. Cancer had already spread throughout her body like a twister ravaging a Kansas farm.

Oh my, I managed to say, selfishly not wanting to let her go. But I knew that twinkle meant, I’m soon to enter the gates of heaven to bond with my Savior and see my soul mate, Harry, again.

Over the next few months, I watched my mother endure the humiliation of the removal of her breasts. Through each trial, including medication that robbed her of her strength and femininity, she continued to whisper, Heaven soon.

Following a double mastectomy and a daily regimen of hormone blockers, her cancer disappeared, and we sensed a reprieve. Several months later, however, cancer reappeared in her right hip bone. After several new rounds of radiation sent pain shooting throughout her abdomen, the radiologist prescribed IV fluids and pain medication.

Then I got a call from my sister, Dolly. Her pain has increased, she said in desperation. She needs to go to the emergency room. Hours later, Dolly called again. It’s serious. To save her life, they must remove the blockage and her large intestine. They’re not sure she can survive the surgery.

When my mother heard the doctor’s prognosis, she abruptly said, No more surgeries.

I immediately drove to Columbia, realizing this might be it. When I arrived, my mother’s belly was distended, probably from the radiation. She looked nine months pregnant. My family gathered around her bedside, looking to each other for answers. If things remained the same, she would soon realize her heart’s desire and go to heaven.

As I stayed by her bedside one evening, she awakened and said, Who’s keeping me from going to heaven? She fired a cold glance at the nurses, then her eyes locked on mine. Ginny Dent Brant, you know my wishes. Whatever machine is keeping me alive, turn it off. I knew what she meant. Nothing was to keep her alive when there was no hope. Comfort only. Those were her wishes.

The next morning, her doctor came in. I heard about your mother’s request last night. I’m reversing her orders. We’ll allow her to die a natural death and give comfort as needed.

The next forty-eight hours were the longest of my life as I watched every system in her body shut down one at a time. I’d been there before with my dad. My mom held on until the last of her grandchildren came to say goodbye. My son Jonnie was the last to arrive. As she sensed the tears flowing down his cheeks, she said, It’s okay. Death is a part of life. I’ve been blessed by all of you. See you in heaven.

Each of her children honored this great woman with a eulogy at her memorial service. During my eulogy, I sang one verse from the old spiritual Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. My mother had transitioned to her eternal reward—that place over the rainbow.

A Bump in the Night

Five months later, still grieving the loss, my husband, Alton, and I celebrated our good health by taking part in the Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston along with 45,000 other participants.

The next evening, I awakened in the middle of the night when my ring became entangled in my nightgown. As I struggled to free it, my left hand brushed against my right breast.

There was a noticeable bump.

I took a few seconds to examine it. Oh well, I thought, I’ve had cysts before that proved to be nothing. I drifted back into my dreams.

The next day I scheduled a visit with my doctor, whom I’d just seen four months earlier. During my appointment, she felt the lump right away. She immediately arranged for a mammogram and ultrasound.

I’m pretty sure it’s a fluid-filled cyst, I offered casually.

The next week, during testing, I helpfully informed the mammogram technician, It’s in the right breast at seven o’clock.

Oh, yes, she said. You can’t miss it.

It’s a fluid-filled cyst, I told her. I’ve had them before.

She quickly moved me to the next room where another technician would do the ultrasound. I knew we could clear up this confusion in a jiffy. As the technician smeared cold jelly across my right breast, I told him, I’m the queen of getting fluid-filled cysts.

We’ll see, he said.

Ten minutes later, the radiologist appeared. It’s not fluid-filled, he said. It’s solid.

Really! I said, catching my breath. What percentage of these things is malignant?

Only one out of three, he said.

So two out of three chances, it’s nothing, I said, looking for assurance.

That’s right. We’ll need a biopsy to determine for sure what it is.

The ultrasound finding had stunned me, but I was encouraged that the odds were in my favor. As all my friends knew, I was a health nut. Every time I’d had a risk factor screening with my yearly mammogram, I scored in the lowest-risk category.

I went to an oncologist in Greenville to set up my biopsy. As I drove into the cancer center parking lot, I prayed, Lord, don’t let this be. I hesitantly walked into the foreboding place, passing by the shadows of women with scarves replacing what once were locks of hair, and I shivered. With each step, dark glimmers of my mother’s own cancer journey flashed before me.

The oncologist asked about family history, and I told him about my mom’s cancer. Well, he said, if it’s cancer, we’ve caught it early. A lumpectomy and a little radiation, and you’ll be good to go.

The biopsy took longer and was far more painful than I expected. I felt as though I had been hit with a stun gun. I remember the radiologist saying, It’s movable and that’s a good sign. I held on to those words.

I drove to work with ice layered on my breast. Our district superintendent had been holding down the fort until my arrival because the principal and assistant principal were out that week. I assured him everything was okay.

After lunch, I retreated to the high-security room where two thousand student tests served as a cloud of witnesses to the waves of emotion emanating from my chest. It was my job to sort these tests while protecting the integrity of the testing process, and I needed to be in the moment.

Only one out of three are malignant, I kept reminding myself, and most are benign.

When I arrived home that night, my husband greeted me with open arms. It’s going to be okay, he said. You’re not the cancer type.

Denial Turns into Reality

After forty-eight hours of waiting, I was beginning to sweat. I clung desperately to the hope that if this was cancer, we’d caught it early. Either way, I wanted this lump removed from my body; it was beginning to exercise control over my thoughts and emotions.

The next day, I was in the secure testing room again when I received a call from the oncologist’s nurse. Your results are back, she said. It’s cancer. And it’s invasive.

I stopped sorting tests. No, it can’t be, I murmured.

Ductal, she continued. It’s in the ducts. We won’t know until next week what kind of cancer it is.

My world came to a standstill. In the blink of an eye, all my plans and dreams for the future were dangling in midair. I struggled to move or think.

I left school early that day. I did not pass go. I did not collect $200. I went straight home. I called my husband on the way. Honey, it’s cancer, I said. I’m not the two out of three. It’s real.

Whatever happens, Alton said, we’ll face this together. You’ll be fine. It’s got to be early. When I arrived home, my husband wrapped his arms around me and held me as though the wind might sweep me away. I found comfort in his arms.

Oh, Father, he prayed, guide us through this journey. Give us wisdom, and may we glorify You in all that we do. I bring my precious wife and her healing of this cancer before Your throne. In Jesus’s name, amen.

A week later I was in the testing room when the nurse called again. Your results are in, she said. Your cancer was driven by both estrogen and HER2. In some breast cancers, the cells make too much of a protein called HER2. The HER2 means it’s aggressive, she continued. We’ll need to set you up for a consult with a surgeon.

The news drove deep into my heart. I’d thought it was incomprehensible that I had cancer, and now I had to swallow the bitter pill that it was aggressive and life-threatening. The nurse assured me that every weapon would be brought to bear to save my life, but I knew those treatments were the medical equivalent of weapons of mass destruction.

Paula Hemphill, a friend and former International Mission Board trustee, was a survivor of HER2 breast cancer. She assured me that the cancer was survivable, but the road to recovery would be long. I began to google the drug Herceptin, which would be used to combat my cancer. For Paula, it was the miracle drug that saved her life. To me, it was a drug that could potentially damage my heart and lungs. Even if I survived, what would life be like after?

I felt trapped, with no way out. I desperately longed to return to the days before my diagnosis. My mind refused to grasp what was happening to my body. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Paula assured me, "There will be life after cancer for you."

One day, while driving to Clemson with my husband, I said to him, I feel as though God is giving me a gift, but it’s a gift I don’t want.

I don’t want it either. Alton chuckled. But we’ll face this together.

Second Opinions Matter

During my next visit with the surgeon, he noted that I had a large hematoma—a solid swelling of clotted blood—from the biopsy. The next step was to order an MRI, which would reveal the clearest picture and determine the extent of the surgery needed. My mind began to race with uncertainties. Could there be more tumors? Were my lymph nodes involved? Where would this nightmare end?

While driving to church one morning, Alton said, I want a second opinion. This is serious stuff. I want to make sure we make the right decisions. We knew from my mom’s experience that dealing with this cancer beast involved many tough decisions.

I remembered seeing the Cancer Treatment Centers of America (CTCA) booth at the National Religious Broadcaster’s convention and gave them a call. Alton and I had an interesting conversation on speakerphone with one of their intake consultants. CTCA had centers in Atlanta, Chicago, Tulsa, Philadelphia, and Phoenix. Their second opinion would involve a surgeon, oncologist, radiologist, nutritionist, and naturopathic doctor. I didn’t know then that CTCA supplemented chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery with integrative medicine. I was a big proponent of integrative medicine, which combines nutrition, nutraceuticals, and lifestyle changes along with conventional medicine to fight disease.

I called my former integrative medical doctor, Dr. Connie Ross, and asked her opinion on where to go for my second opinion. The first words out of her mouth were CTCA in Chicago. If it were me, that’s where I would go.

My husband and I prayed diligently that God would guide our steps, and we felt a peace about going to Chicago.

I went to work Monday morning with my suitcase in hand. CTCA had scheduled us to fly up that night for a series of appointments throughout the week. The last-minute arrangement of these appointments was a loving reminder that God knew my situation and was graciously paving our way. I didn’t realize how significant a second opinion could be. If insurance pays for it, it’s wise to get one, especially for a serious medical condition.

Before