
Cure Crystals Cancer
Donation protected
Since April of 2023, I've been on my second breast cancer journey.
I was sent back to the same oncology surgeon who did my lumpectomy in 2017. I did not have pleasant memories of using his practice, but he had done a small incision back then and he knew I preferred a holistic approach.
The radiologist read my MRI wrongly a year prior and said my tumors were benign. Although my holistic doctor felt strongly that it was cancer, we mistakenly celebrated still being in remission. Because of financial hardship during COVID-19, I had quit purchasing my natural estrogen metabolizer. I now know I had not addressed hidden jaw infections, methylation, or cellular repair. I was less diligent with my diet and unable to heal Lyme/parasites and Epstein-Barr virus. I was still not dealing with stress well enough. I didn’t catch this cancer as early, so it is more aggressive and a bigger tumor.
The first doctor after my MRI offered a needle biopsy. I declined so as not to let stem cells escape the cancerous tumor. He understood with a bowed head that the in-and-out procedure could spread it. He said he’d send me to “Dr. Picasso” for a lumpectomy or surgical biopsy to be dissected on the countertop. But “Dr. Picasso” insisted I do a punch test biopsy. He said if I let him do it later that same day, he would get me into surgery one week later. The date was penciled in by his mean nurse. I left his office and went to my friend's boutique. She fits mastectomy garments and wigs. She made me call immediately to go back to a “needle biopsy.” The mean nurse on the other end of the phone bullied me that the punch test was the least invasive and insisted I come to do it. My friend was upset that I didn’t listen to her. I wish I had because “Dr. Picasso” made a huge, half-dollar hole, big and high, nowhere near my tumor. While he cut and I was in excruciating pain, the nurse screamed at me with her clipboard that I shouldn’t have insurance for not doing chemo in 2017. She never heard of natural estrogen metabolizers. The doctor let her harass me the whole time. I shouldn’t have trusted him. He left the room after he finished and then came back in and said I had to do eighteen weeks of chemo before surgery. I said, “No, you said if I let you do this, I’d be in surgery in one week.” Then the hole became infected. My husband doctored me for a whole month before they got me into surgery – I had a hole in my cancer tumor – the nurse said the cells would not leave the tumor. She’s wrong. Everything that the doctor's office did seemed premeditated for me not being able to beat cancer. We feared sepsis. I could not wait to get to the lumpectomy hole off my chest. It felt like forever until surgery. I slept miserably in a recliner forever six months straight.
I had seriously considered shrinking tumors with herbs and juicing but was pressured to do a lumpectomy by loved ones. A scar and “dip” in the same place as the first time were doable. I knew I could have it filled in with my fat later. My desire was communicated clearly for the least invasive, no double mastectomy, and no more removal of nodes. We agreed not to discuss chemo and radiation until after the lumpectomy. My husband and I went over my incision in great length and detail about tight, flat stitches with my surgeon who agreed I had perfect beautiful breasts.
My surgeon was very late to my surgery and the nurses were complaining. They kept offering to make me high, but I didn’t want that done. I wanted to be coherent enough to talk to Dr. Picasso before they knocked me out just to make sure we were not veering from our plan at all. Finally, I agreed to a small amount in my IV. The head male nurse said there was a clipboard of signatures they needed first. I had already signed stacks. Why would they wait till I'm on a gurney ready to start without my reading glasses? I told them I couldn’t see. The nurse said he would tell me what was on each page. Everyone knew it was supposed to be a 45-minute lumpectomy. I made that clear. I now remember he said, “This one just says we are working on the right breast”. I joked about not touching the left one. I would shockingly find out in the records department later while dealing with my missing time-out sheet that it actually said to remove my right breast. I wouldn’t have signed that in a billion years! That was another very deceitful part that would not be in my favor as far as suing him.
Although in 2018, I had been turned down for insurance coverage reconstruction for not following CDC protocol and paid out of pocket for it, I was told by my surgeon that this time, if I stuck with him for follow-ups instead of ER visits (where other doctors knew this t was not a lumpectomy and would only send me back to him), he would personally make sure that his friend at UT did my reconstruction. However, that surgeon ended up saying he would not waste his time and effort because I “was going to turn around after reconstruction and just die anyway from not doing chemo”.
They made me high, so I was not able to remember communicating with the surgeon. My husband said that Doctor Picasso kept sighing and changing his marks on my body as if he didn’t know what he wanted to do to me at the double doors of surgery before Daniel was sent to the waiting room. Next, the surgeon came out to warn him that I would be very upset about how I look now. Daniel did not understand. The surgeon had changed the plan without consent and without any emergency arising to justify it. He pulled my left breast across the center breastbone and sewed it other side overtop the right breast. The tumor was in the lower inside breast. He cut a zigzag across the top above the start of the cleavage so thin skin healed to the pectoral muscle. I am in constant pain, my breast is pulling and throbbing, and I can’t roll over or lift very much. I can’t exercise or have chiropractic adjustments. When my family goes bowling, I am not able to participate. He took a grapefruit size of cancer-free skin that he said chemo would have allegedly protected. I said that my cancer could go to the brain, but I wouldn’t chop my head off as a preventative! It was not his decision.
When I asked him broken and in tears why he did this to me, with a half grin he said, “I assumed you wouldn’t do your chemo.” My Her 2 and Fish tests were both negative, so I had no cancer in the skin. Chemo would not have been needed. The incision had large puckers and opened in the center a week later. It became infected, which required months of weekly scrapings by him and multiple ER visits. That was like seeing your cocky rapist weekly. I am extremely deformed now. On my 55th birthday, it was shocking to see what he had done. I devastatingly cried. As months of self-pity and helplessness went by, I wasn’t feeling as much grace as I was praying for. I was thinking of a young man in my church with half an arm, and he inspired me not to give up. I felt God say that He would give me more grace if I exercised more forgiveness. I went to my oncology appointment and told “Dr. Picasso” that I forgave him for what he did to me. All he said was “Thank you.” But holding him accountable for what felt like assault and battery (which would be termed “malpractice”) was still on my mind.
I had seen my cosmetic surgeon and his private nurse weep when they looked at me, passionately repeating the words, “This is not a lumpectomy,” The ER doctors gasped when the clipboard said “lumpectomy” and she opened the gown to see a completely different surgery. But the best lawyers around town can’t win a lawsuit unless I can find another expert cancer surgeon (willing to lose his/her license and practice) to testify against Dr Picasso on my behalf. The Tort law in Tennessee doesn't allow for a patient like me to be protected against CDC-backed oncology bullies pushing their money-making agendas, as if when it's your time to go out of this world, you have no medical freedom to decide for yourself what course of action you will take against cancer. Being physically punished is evil. It is wrong to not hold my oncologist surgeon accountable, but he will face God one day. God will sustain me here and judge him later, in the end. I will have two more surgeries to go through on March 8th and over my 56th birthday. which will strain my immune system even more to be able to fight against cancer stem cells. I have no choice. I must press on.
My cosmetic surgeon with a huge heart, has agreed to take on this challenge and do his best. I will never look perfect like the first time he fixed me in 2018 for cash. But, for me, “functional” is more important than “looks”. With my out-of-pocket cellular protocol, co-infections, and testing out of pocket, my husband doesn’t have the $7,000 for the scheduled surgeries coming up soon. I have to try to raise that money somehow. I like to write, but I hate public speaking, so I have been procrastinating this “fundraiser.”
If you could help pay for any amount of my cancer surgeries coming up, my family would be so thankful. We need a miracle. I need $4500 by February 23, 2024 and $3000 more by April 19. I do appreciate your comments and shares, but mostly for your prayers.
You can follow the story on Facebook as well: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/PGQP1WSQkRTGAiKF/?mibextid=WC7FNe
Most Gratefully,
Crystal
Organizer
Crystal Burwell Yant
Organizer
Knoxville, TN