posted by AR Press Staff
Mar 1st 2025
You guys, this actually happened. This is American History now. Our children and our children's children should be studying these things and made aware of what has happened throughout our nations, now, long history. How did we get here? How do we make things better?
Our hope and prayer at American Revival Press is that you, parents and grandparents, take the time to look into these things and then teach them to your children and your grandchildren. Nothing will get better unless we make the changes. It helps to know, even in part, how we got here in the first place. They were curing cancer with vitamins in the 1960s and 70s. There is no amount of spin or narrative that can change this simple fact. Dr John Richardson MD and a hand full of other doctors started to use this Metabolic Vitamin Therapy rooted in Vitamin B17 to cure cancer and it was working!! Below is the introduction to the book, Laetrile Case Histories. Laetrile Case Histories is the documentation of the miraculous healing that was being performed without any conventional drugs whatsoever against cancer. And hundreds if not thousands were cured! Their success rate was upwards of 70%!
70% or more of every person who came to Richardson's clinic were healed of cancer!
Absolutely Astounding!
More to come...
Laetrile Case Histories
Originally Published, May 1977
by American Media
Introduction
by Pat Irving Griffin, R.N., B.S.
I was totally unprepared for my first visit to the Richardson Clinic. As a nurse, I had spent considerable time on cancer wards and I knew what to expect: the awful odor of decaying flesh and the sallow faces of forlorn patients who have been condemned to a sub-human existence as they await their inevitable fate.
No one likes to be in the presence of death and, because there is so little that orthodox medicine can do other than mask the pain with mind-dulling drugs, the doctor and nurse often avoid the terminal cancer patient as much as is ethically acceptable. Examinations are brief. Conversation is kept to a minimum. Where possible, the patient is assigned to staff subordinates. Cancer wards and cancer clinics all are pretty much the same: impersonal, smelly, and depressing.
It was to my amazement, therefore, to discover that the Richardson clinic did not fit this morbid pattern. The first thing that struck me was that the patients awaiting treatment were engaged in animated conversation. They were talking, not only about their illness but about their children and grandchildren, about the cross-country sightseeing trip they had planned just as soon as they felt strong enough, and of their ultimate return to work. These people were not preoccupied with death; they were planning for life!
Then I noticed the attitude of the staff. They actually enjoyed being with the patients and spent considerable time with each one. They derived genuine satisfaction from learning of the improvement over the previous visit. Their jokes with the patients were not those strained little condescending attempts to be cheerful in the face of tragedy but rather the genuine outbursts of people who were finding fun in their work.
And, finally, I suddenly became aware that the air was completely free from the fetid smell associated with growing cancer.
A middle-aged man stepped from the clinic area into the waiting room and, with a big grin, announced to the patients that this was the last day of treatment for Mrs. So-and-so (everyone responded to the name), that she was headed back to Illinois in the morning, and that everyone was invited to a party to celebrate her departure.
A party in a cancer clinic?!
I recalled my days as a student nurse on the bone and joint ward at the University of Michigan Hospital. This was the same picture I had seen there. Sure, the patients had problems - and some of them pretty serious - but it was understood that nearly all would get well, or at least return to a near-normal life of health and happiness. In the meantime, spirits usually were high, plans were made for the future, and everyone looked forward to the day of discharge.
When one is trained in and by orthodox medicine as I was, it is difficult to hold an open mind about anything that is contrary to the professional consensus - perhaps even more so than for the non-medically trained layman who at least doesn't have to unlearn old errors to accept new truths. It was natural, therefore, that my first reaction to Laetrile therapy was one of considerable skepticism.
I first heard of Laetrile in 1971 in a health food store. While the concept of cancer being essentially a deficiency disease appealed to me, I was confident that, if there were any scientific basis to it, the great medical research centers would pick it up, thoroughly test it, and then introduce it to mankind properly - that is, not through health food stores, but through the medical profession itself.
It is comfortable to have that kind of confidence in one's own profession. And I can relate thoroughly to the mixed emotions of an R.N. who recently came to the Richardson Clinic after her own physician told her bluntly that there was little hope for her recovery. The lady, a Ph.D. in nursing, by the way, became engaged in conversation with a former high school drop-out who was returning for a check-up. He was a fifty-three-year old Italian bachelor who had been told at the hospital eight months earlier that he had less than two months to live. Since Starting therapy at the Richardson Clinic, he had regained his former zest for life and, in fact, had just returned from a very successful day at the race track.
It was the nurse's first appointment at the clinic, and she was having second thoughts about being there. Sensing her reluctance, soon the man was explaining to her about the trophoblastic thesis of cancer, the role of the pancreatic enzymes, and the importance of nutrition. When she said she couldn't possibly take "all those pills" every day, the high school drop-out said to the nursing Ph.D.: "What do you mean you can't? You came here for help. You've put up with surgery already. A nice lady like you has hair on her face because some doctor screwed up your hormones. Let me tell you how to take those pills. Just put them in your hand a few at a time, pop them into your mouth, and follow with a drink. Of course you can do it. And you soon will be feeling thankful to God you did!"
The hardest pill for many professionals to swallow is not the vitamin pill. It is the thought that they have been wrong and, further, that they and their colleagues have strongly criticized those who have been right. How humiliating! There comes a point, after years of administering drugs for almost every human ailment, and after scoffing at "those silly food faddists" for preaching nutrition as an alternative, when the professional finds himself backed into a corner. He has put down drugless medicine so hard and so often that his reputation now is at stake, and he has a vested interest in his own error.
I know because I went through it. It was not easy to accept drugless medicine as a scientifically valid approach to health care. And it especially wasn't easy to view this seemingly complex disease as merely variable manifestations of a single vitamin and enzyme deficiency. But a person can deny reality only so long. My personal experience with patients on Laetrile therapy since 1972 no longer leaves room for skepticism. What I have seen with my own eyes is convincing beyond any doubt. Laetrile is effective in the control of human cancer. This book has been prepared so that others can share some of the evidence that has led me to that conclusion.
Much has happened since publication of the first edition of this book nearly thirty years ago. Since then the scientific validity of Laetrile has been proven again and again. Unfortunately, orthodox medicine, with its roots in the pharmaceutical industry, has remained disinterested or, in many cases, hostile. This is not surprising. Every important medical breakthrough of history has faced similar opposition from entrenched scientific error. It is sad to think of the tragic human price that is being paid because of this; but the good news is that you and your family do not need to become part of the grim statistics. The information in these case histories is the road map to a better path.
I feel highly privileged to be able to play a small role in one of the most important and exciting medical revolutions of history. But revolutions are unpleasant. Honorable men on both sides are sacrificed in the ebb and flow of battle. Those that survive often carry the scars of bitterness to their graves. I fervently hope that this study will hasten the day when that revolution is over and when the word cancer will be relegated to the dusty pages of history.
Patricia Irving Griffin, R.N., B.S.
June 21, 2005
