"Alternative" isn’t an immoral word though it does seem to have some sinister connotation. You don’t usually find the scholarly, well-behaved child in an "alternative" school. The "alternative" is generally not as good as our first choice. And then there is "alternative" medicine. I am still not sure what "established" medical practice means either. Everyday brings conflicting advice.

It is a bit unnerving to me that doctors call what they do "practice." The last time I lay waiting my turn in the surgical suite swigging Valium, I cupped my ear to hear the muffled voices in the inner sanctum. I am almost sure I overhead someone say, "Hey, there’s big money in kidneys these days and this gal has two of them."

Ever since it has become common knowledge that I have serious cancer, I have had some sincere people and some sincerely strange people offer me alternatives to traditional medicine.

I honestly believe there is good in both traditional and alternative medicine, so don’t shoot the messenger here. I may not have much time left as it is.

Having cancer can cause desperate irrationality. I have tried it all, right down to the worming medicine.

First there was this lady with the frantic voice who called one morning.

"Are you the lady with cancer?"

"One of them," I answered cautiously.

"Can I come to your house. I won’t take much time, I promise. You just must know about the secret tea that has cured 1,000’s of cancer patients."

She came. She stayed. And I paid. The special tea had to be precisely made and be strained. After a few hours, it had to be strained again. I have often wished that Lucille Ball could have lived long enough to have filmed this ridiculous ritual. It would have been her finest segment ever.

In the past several months, I have tried every promising pill, liquid, powder or grassy herb that could, should or would cure cancer. The I hit my lowest low and did what I vowed I would never do. Remember that desperate people do desperate things.

The easy part was brewing the strongest coffee that Columbia can legally ship. It had to be thoroughly chilled before using.

I am a proper lady and don’t know how to politely explain the procedure. Be glad I’m not a good artist either. Just think of a five-letter word that starts and ends with vowels.

Behind the privacy of a four-way locked bathroom door, I positioned the paraphernalia needed to accomplish the task. Would this hundred-proof coffee cleaner do as promised … cure my cancer?

I took a deep breath and courageously released the valve. Moments later I wished Lucille Ball was there in my place.

In hind-sight, I wouldn’t do it again. Yes, I lived for another day. And another. But I am not proud of it. In doing so, I have become the Queen of Gullibility.

Who writes these self-help books anyway?