I entered the health care profession at a relatively young age. As a child, spending sporadic periods in hospital, I was a veteran of clinical processes and surgical procedures. To me, a hospital was the equivalent of nirvana. The smells, the sterile environment, the uniforms, the skill and the culture of health care – all of this was stuff dreams were made of for me.

By my teens I had experienced a dozen or so surgical procedures – to the point I would ask the medical staff if I could watch as they re-set another fractured bone, or excised some foreign matter that had made its way into my foot or wherever I had been injured. While in hospital – and even when not, I’d ask staff if I could make up surgical packs, fold linen, sanitise surfaces, even wash bedpans.

Nurses and doctors were my heros and that didn’t change. During a prolonged period of hospitalisation and home care, I devoured all my mother’s nursing manuals. I studied every medical book I could get my hands on. My school work experience of course was at the local hospital. I couldn’t understand how my peers could possibly enjoy the confines of an office or shop. It became an obsession. And while I waited on my final school results, I worked as a nursing assistant in a nursing home. I loved it and wanted to change the world – that place in particular was akin to a psychiatric hell that you would see on TV. The patients/inmates had bedsores so big you could put a fist into them. No disinfectant or sterilisation practice existed. Patients would be tied to their beds and left to decay. Untrained nurses hit the patients and left them soiled for hours on end. I vowed to change all that and I began by reporting the matron to the authorities. At least once she had been removed, that place changed drastically.

A few hiccups prevented my entry to medical school so I applied for nursing school. All of that previous reading held me in good stead. Unless you’ve put on a nurse’s uniform and scrubbed for surgery, you couldn’t possibly understand the attraction it held.

Then reality set in…

There was a limit as to how brilliant doctors were. I tumbled down to earth with an almighty crash. Nurses were covering up – every single day. We did what doctors didn’t – we cared and we took drastic steps to save lives, while the doctors got the accolades. The arrogance with which some of them performed their duties became abhorrent.

Unnecessary surgery, contraindicated drugs, neglect resulting in death – each of these things, all avoidable, were covered up in the monster that is orthodox health care. Doctors are demi-gods. They are sponsored and coaxed through medical school. And for the rest of their lives, regardless of how much they care, they become puppets for big pharma – and subsidised by the government to peddle dangerous drugs, devices and procedures. And not one of them will take correction or suggestions by a lowly nurse or patient – even if they are glaringly wrong.

Soon I was questioning everything – but not with the admiration I had as a child; questions such as “Why are you doing that? There are other options,” soon had my ward reports changing to “Nurse Langford needs to study medicine if she is so concerned with the white coat.”

Time in a Remote Area Hospital in outback Australia drove the final nail in – testing unapproved drugs on newborn Aboriginal babies, performing procedures on small babies and vaccines that were presenting with serious side effects – all of this changed my respect for doctors forever. By the end of that time, 3 of the nurses were studying naturopathy in some form. Each of us had become disenchanted with medicine. We had each seen by then, lives saved by complimentary medicine, after the damage by orthodoxy had come close to destruction. We had each seen patients who could easily have been cured by complimentary methods, die – when answers were staring us in the face.

After I reported that particular doctor, I was struck off the WA nursing registration body. I didn’t care – by then, I was half way through my complimentary health care training. I did re-register just to prove a point, but I never returned to nursing. Admittedly it would have been easier financially and professionally, but I could not sleep at night as it was – there was no way I was going to support that system again.

It has not been an easy road. I have lost count of the number of patients who died, purely because the doctors did not appreciate the fact their patient was seeking help from a naturopath. I have the luxury of seeing both sides and am able to discern what is necessary and what is not. Bad media and clever spin allows complimentary practitioners to be branded as charlatans. If that were the case, we wouldn’t persevere with the very tiny square hole we are forced to endure throughout our careers.

Personally, I have a list of case studies within my family alone, that could fill a book – cases resulting in permanent damage and death. Professionally, I have hundreds, if not thousands of case studies showing the iatrogenic records of the ‘health’ care industry (aka medical system). I have faced legal action too many times to recall – mostly by egotistical doctors who were upset that I had succeeded in cases where they had failed.

Cleverly, the system is such that even though doctors say we are a self-regulated body, the truth is the opposite. We are registered by the industry of course (as is the medical industry) but we are overseen by the medical system. The common response to alternative health care is that ‘It’s not scientifically proven,” The fact is, it IS. More studies have been undertaken on alternatives – but in reverse. The tests and trials are done to disprove the claims. When they fail to do so, the report reflects that they failed, not the medicine itself. We are dismissed as not having PhD status – well, many of us do. So then we are accused of not being accredited by a uni or college or body affiliated with their unis, so our status is not accepted. Complimentary health, just over 100 years ago, was the health system. And most people were healthy. With the outbreak of WWI and WWII, manpower was needed in battle and laboratories hit their stride, where one or two people could do the work (synthesising natural remedies) of hundreds. Once the war was over, the power of pharmaceutical giants was such that no one, not even the government, could overthrow it.

Big pharma now controls the world, make no mistake. Food production, industrial production, farming, cosmetics, alcohol, drugs – all from the one industry. And when you get sick from these, big pharma has a new drug on the block to ‘care’ for you – which in turn, once side effects become explained as a sickness, another drug or three is waiting in the wings. By age 40, most people are chronically unwell – but are told by doctors that they are healthy, so long as they take such-and-such. Few people over that age can honestly say they do not take medication of some sort.

Go back to Genesis in the Bible – food, plants, water, sunlight – THESE are your medicine. That still rings true today. This planet has all we need for health – medicine should be a last resort at all times. But it’s not, is it?

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