Below is a narration from a lady on how she almost lost her life while receiving treatment for cancer at the hands of an herbalist in Jos.
She revealed that she was taking to the herbalist by her aunt who later discovered he was fake and had no cure.
Read:
MY OTHER STORY( herbalist experience)
November 2018 was not funny. I noticed a small lump was under my skin and it had grown in size. I was worried. After a scan, it was highly suspicious! A local reoccurrence!
I lost my cool and entered full panic mode. I went back to the hospital, the oncologist “scolded” me for not continuing my treatments. I told him I had no job at the time of my referral and I only recently got one that wasn’t even going to foot the exorbitant bill.
The Oncologist understood, picked his phone & called a cancer NGO but they said they don’t have funds to support me. I started my usual CRY and berating for the whole week. Christmas plans were officially suspended, but thank God for friends.
I was already considering raising money for my treatments when I was referred to this man in Jos, a herbalist.
My informant said the guy CURES #CANCER from its root, NO Mastectomy, Chemotherapy & Radiotherapy only LUMPECTOMY. Hallelujah!!
Simply put, the Herbalist CURES #CANCER from its origin, NO Removal of breast (s), NO Cancer drugs & NO use of light rays to kill the cancerous cells.
The Herbalist removes ONLY the LUMPS from the Breast (s). Hallelujah!!
My aunt was a testimony to his prowess.
He had operated her cancerous breast & took out all the lumps and she was recovering fast.
My friend & I hit the road to Jos.12:15pm we alighted from the bike. The place is Kerang, a beautiful, hilly village, where bottle water is produced
At the herbal home, I saw many patients, mostly women. Some had undergone the crude but often “successful” “surgery” and were excited through recovery.
Hospitals can go to hell. Cancer was defeated.
I consulted and was convinced. I returned back to Abuja the same day and prepared in earnest for my second surgery. 27th December 2018, I hit the road again, with my stove, small pot, blankets, wears, foodstuffs, some cash, my son and my care giver-my steadfast, patient friend.
The cold was unforgiving. The small huts had no curtains, no electricity, no water, no toilets, just a small foam. But none of us cared. We just want to be fine.
I went in for the surgery 28th December, 2018 and was injected two doses of a certain drug. I didn’t sleep into oblivion like my first surgery, I just drifted.
See, I was somewhere I can’t describe through the surgery. I still get scared when that memory surfaces.
I was conscious in my subconsciousness and I felt like my soul was literally being ripped out of my body.
I felt an unearthly pain as the knife cut through me and I heard myself scream.
I was pressed through walls, twisted and stretched, fell from scary heights into Abyses, I even saw a coffin and was told I died. There were four faces in the “theatre” and I heard my friend’s voice:
“Ndo nne, Ndo Gloria”.
Then I heard him talking gibberish. He had four eyes and seemed to loom over me. I was told my eyes were open all through the surgery. I could swear I saw my son floating in the room.