America’s Most Trusted Nutritionist

I can’t remember ever being particularly healthy or energetic as a child. My grandmother told me that I was sick a great deal of the time in childhood, often sidelined because of colds and flu. I’m convinced that my problems began before I was born. My maternal heritage was not one of good health. My mother had not been well most of her life. She died at the age of forty-five of breast cancer. I was six years old. The surprising part of my health history was that not one doctor ever figured out why I was so tired and why I kept getting sick so often. Once a doctor suggested that I might have an allergy to dairy products and when I stopped eating them, my health improved somewhat. Maybe I should have seen a veterinarian. Growing up in Iowa, and with relatives that farmed in Minnesota, I often heard people question what the cattle or other farmyard animals had been eating when they got sick. No one ever asked me what I’d been eating. What I’d been consuming might have killed a strong athlete. I loved junk food, candy, soft drinks, cinnamon rolls, cookies, ice cream, chips, buttered popcorn—anything sweet or salty. Sweets were my preference. I have since discovered that sweet cravings (on an emotional level) can be triggered because a person is trying to bring sweetness into her life.

I certainly needed sweetness after losing my mother when I was so young. Never having considered the connection between a healthy diet and a healthy body, I rarely thought twice about what I put in my mouth. I can’t remember eating fresh green vegetables in the winter. Though my father and I lived with my maternal grandparents, and my grandmother grew a bountiful organic garden each year and prepared lots of vegetables for summertime meals, I didn’t think most vegetables were particularly appealing. I liked eating sweet peas and baby carrots right out of the garden, corn off the cob with lots of butter, and berries and grapes picked fresh off the vine, but that was about it.

For the most part, my interest centered on my grandmother’s homemade bread with plenty of butter plus her mouth-watering cinnamon rolls, date bread, pies, and cookies. Through junior high I continued to catch nearly every cold and flu bug that circulated in school, and I was often home due to illness and fatigue. There were many mornings when I was so exhausted I could barely drag myself from bed. Feeling tired and unwell became a natural state of being throughout childhood and one I accepted without question for many years. My health fluctuated through high school and my twenties. In order to stay thin, I started avoiding sweets, which helped my health to a degree, but I also put myself on a number of crash or starvation diets. Lacking the nutrients it needed, my body was crying for help.

Once an aunt convinced me to take vitamin and mineral supplements. I noticed an increase in energy almost immediately when I took them, but I still suffered from bouts of fatigue, colds, and flu. Whatever good I was doing by taking nutritional supplements was nearly canceled out by my poor diet and occasional binges on sweets.  READ PART 2 – CLICK TAB ON LEFT

My real health crisis came when I turned 30. I developed a devastating case of chronic fatigue syndrome. I felt as though I had never-ending flu and was perennially lethargic. In constant pain, I suffered as though I’d been bounced around in a washing machine. That, coupled with a diagnosis of hypoglycemia and an infection with Candida albicans (a systemic yeast infection), caused me to feel hopeless.

I visited a holistic doctor who tested me for food allergies, and I left his office with a list of allergens longer than my arm. It was one of the most discouraging times of my life. Not finding any clear answers from the medical profession as to how to heal my physical condition, I finally went to a health food store. I talked with employees and browsed the bookshelves. There I found answers. Clearly, I was eating poorly, not providing my body with the nutrients it needed to heal and gain energy.

Most importantly, I learned about the energizing benefits of juicing fresh vegetables and fruit and the healing, restorative power of juice fasting. I learned that my body was toxic—an iridologist and a reflexologist both pointed this out—and in need of detoxification. The information I’d gathered offered me the first rays of hope I’d had. There was something I could do to restore my health. Too tired to work, but armed with a juicer, I moved from California to my father’s home in Colorado and made it a full-time job to get healthy. I embarked on a self-designed program, kicking it off with a five-day juice fast of mostly vegetable juices. On the fifth day of my fast, my body expelled a tumor about the size of a golf ball, complete with veins. I was absolutely too flabbergasted to even think to have it tested! Though it was quickly flushed away, malignant or benign I’ll never know, I’m so thankful for that cleansing process.

I then turned to vegen eating, along with drinking lots of vegetable juices every day for the following three months. But instead of feeling better, I felt a little worse. What I didn’t realize was that I was detoxing, also known as the Herxheimer Reaction. Though my father was pessimistic about my program, based on the detox symptoms, I was determined to get well. In desperation, I saw a reflexologist (a therapist that uses a form of massage with applied pressure to certain parts of the feet). He determined that I needed a gallbladder cleanse based on painful areas of my feet. The gallbladder detox produced amazing results. And I felt a little better. But I still had plenty of “not so good” days.

But one morning, without warning, I woke up early feeling brand new—with so much energy I wanted to go jogging. I felt like someone had given me a new body. I thought, “Wow! That was the best cure on earth.” I realized that freshly made vegetable juices, veggie smoothies, lots of raw foods, periodic cleansing, and a nutritious, whole foods diet was a lifestyle I could follow to produce the health I wanted. I also realized there were foods I needed to let go of like sweets, refined flour products such as bread and pasta, and dairy products so I could maintain my high level of health.

With my juicer in tow, a new healthy way of life, and an exciting set of goals, I returned to Southern California and my friends. For nearly a year, it was “ten steps forward” with renewed, vibrant health and more energy and stamina than I’d ever remembered. Then, all of a sudden, I took a giant step back.  READ PART 3 – CLICK TAB ON LEFT

I was house sitting in a lovely Southern California neighborhood for vacationing family friends and working on my first book. A burglar broke into their home one night. I was shocked to wake up around 3 a.m. and see a strange young man crouched in the corner of the bedroom. Instead of running, he leaped off the floor, and attacked, beating me repeatedly with a pipe, yelling, “Now you are dead!” and then choking me unconscious. I knew I was dying. I felt my spirit leave, floating up and out of my body. Then all was peaceful and still. I sensed I was traveling, at what seemed like the speed of light, through black space, with twinkling lights in the distance. Suddenly, however, I was back in my body, outside the house, clinging to a fence at the end of the dog run, and screaming for help. I don’t know how I got there. A neighbor heard me screening and sent her husband to help. Within minutes, I was on my way to the hospital. I suffered serious injuries to my head, neck, back, and right hand, with multiple head wounds and part of my scalp torn from my head. I also incurred numerous cracked teeth that resulted in several root canals and crowns. But my right hand sustained the most severe injuries, with two knuckles crushed to mere bone fragments that had to be held together by metal pins, and six months after the attack, I still couldn’t use it. The cast I wore, with bands holding up my ring finger that was nearly torn from my hand, looked like something from a science-fiction movie.

I felt and looked worse than hopeless, with a shaved top of my head, red, swollen eyes, a gash on my face, a useless right hand, terrorizing fear, and barely enough energy to get dressed when I got up. This time, it took every ounce of my will, faith and trust in God, deep spiritual work, alternative medical help, extra vitamins and minerals, juicing, emotional release, healing prayer, and numerous detox programs to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally. I met a nutritionally minded physician who had healed his own slow mending broken bones with lots of vitamins and minerals; he gave me vitamin cocktail IVs. Juicing, cleansing, nutritional supplements, a nearly perfect diet, and prayer, along with physical therapy helped my bones and other injuries heal.

After following this regimen for about nine months, what my hand surgeon said would be impossible, became real—a fully restored, fully functional hand. He had told me I’d never use my right hand again, and that it wasn’t even possible to put in plastic knuckles because of its poor condition. But my knuckles did indeed reform and function of my hand returned. A day came when he told me I was completely healed, and though the doctor admitted he didn’t believe in miracles, he did say, “You’re the closest thing I’ve seen to one.”

Equally important in the restorative process was the healing of my soul—a place no one could determine the degree of injury. I experienced healing from the painful memories and trauma of the attack through prayer, laying-on of hands, and deep emotional healing work. It seemed like endless buckets of tears had been stored up in my soul from new and old wounds, such as my mother’s death at age six, my maternal grandfather’s death at age nine, a tragedy concerning my father when I was thirteen, along with the emotional pain of the attack—all needed release.

Forgiveness and letting go came in stages and was an integral part of my total healing. I had to be honest about what I really felt and willing to face the pain and toxic emotions pent up inside and let them go. I felt as though I cried buckets of tears. But, finally, one day after a long healing journey—I was free. A time came when I could celebrate the 4th of July (the anniversary of the attack) without fear.

Finally, I knew more peace and health than I ever thought would be possible. I experienced what it was to feel whole—complete, not damaged, not broken, wounded, or impaired, but truly healed and restored to wholeness in body, soul, and spirit. And, I knew there was a purpose for my life—a reason I had lived. I could help others find their way to wholeness.  READ PART 4 – CLICK TAB ON LEFT

I became so passionate about what had brought about my health, healing, and vitality—not once, but twice—that I decided to attend graduate school and pursue a masters degree in nutrition. I wanted to be a credible source of information when I told people what juicing, detoxing, and eating whole organic foods could do for them.

I enrolled at Bastyr University in Seattle—a school of natural medicine dedicated to improving the health of the human community. It was there, before I had graduated, that I met the owners of the Juiceman company who were looking for a couple of graduate students to write a little booklet containing juice recipes and nutrition information to accompany the Juiceman juicer. I was one of the people chosen for the project. One thing leads to another. By the time I had graduated with my master’s degree, I was the company’s Juice Lady. I traveled around the country almost weekly teaching people about health and nutrition, and what juicing could do for them. In 1992, my first juice book was released. Juicing for Life became an international best seller and has helped millions of people experience better health though the power of juicing.

One day my husband summed it up. “You truly are living your purpose,” he said. All the tragedy of your life has shaped a passion inside your soul to help others find their path to wholeness.”