My father’s birthday is December 8th. There was a time, about 12 years ago, when we weren’t sure he would see any more birthdays, let alone important milestones in our life.

He had undergone surgery, radiation, and chemo with no success and the next step, said the doctors, was high-dose chemo to prolong what little life he had left. So he chose Gerson. It was his last option, but at least we had some hope. He left for three weeks, two of our pastors going along and then the last week, my mother.

He’d always been disciplined, as he was a marine in the past, but you all know how Gerson pushes you amidst much physical pain. It was a completely new experience for him, to be so extremely sick, in another country and away from the family he had always protected, but ultimately, he did it for us.

When he returned home we had plenty of questions for him and he answered most of them like this… “If I knew eating rat turds for the rest of my life meant that I would watch you both grow up, graduate, get married, and have your own children, I’d be eating a steaming bowl of turds every single day.”

I write this all to you because my father turned 53 this year. He saw me graduate, get married, and start my own business. My sister is expecting her first child, my father’s first grandchild.

Stick with the diet! Don’t cheat. Life, moments, and people are so much more important than fulfilling a momentary desire for a cookie.

I’m so thankful for my father’s discipline, for Kathleen Blake telling everyone she knows about Gerson, and for God’s grace. Gerson works!

Praying and hoping for healing for all of you,
Bree Cota

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