three minutes or they would overdose on the powerful, invisible energy flooding their body. Or, he might take his pendulum into the backyard and with the help of the spirits find a particular leaf or flower that would help alleviate the condition of his patient. His success rate was beyond impressive.
In his work my father saw the body as nothing short of an engineering miracle that cannot be duplicated by any human machine. If you think about it, we are basically a big plastic bag with a bunch of powerful chemicals sloshing around but somehow are able to process a zillion stimuli every second from the reflection in a piece of glass to understanding thoughts and words when someone moves their lips. Pretty sophisticated stuff.
When my father began a healing, he would use a small pendulum and an anatomy chart to quickly diagnose the “patient.” He didn’t need blood tests, X-rays or exploratory surgery to discover that there was small tumor on the kidney or a blockage in the left artery. Mind you, this was long before such inventions as CAT scans or MRIs. Without these miracle machines, doctors basically proceeded with an X-ray and then cut you open for a look. While my father was alive, there was a handful of doctors who would call him in secret, fearing they might lose their license if anyone knew that they were consulting with some guy and his pendulum to diagnose a difficult patient where all their training had failed. In minutes, he gave them the answer and another person was saved.
While the hooligans shouted “witch doctor” and tried to have my father shut down, he quietly persevered. Basically, he was light years ahead of his time and held in his hand the future of medicine where