O K R A  --D  I  E  T  4  ALL ,    I  N  C  L  U  D  E  S    A L L E R G I E S ,     D I S E A S ES ,   T O X I N S  &  C H E M I C A L S . 

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Research Bio + OKRA4all

Autobiography

Posted on July 4, 2013 at 12:40 AM

Today I know I have Parkinsonism Disease, a direct result of Canola Oil, made worse by no pollution controls. Canola is a patent name by Monsanto to hide its’ origin as being from Rape Seed. Rape seed alias Canola was banned in the United States & most of Europe until 1994 because numerous scientific studies in American research proved that Rape aka Canola caused the symptoms of my disease to animals that ate it! Go to your nearest library, this is a fact, and cannot be disputed by any government or Monsanto!

 

FDA lifted the ban in 1994 because Monsanto with the help of the Canadian Government produced a genetically altered seed that reduced the high levels of ERUCIC ACID a highly toxic chemical. This occurs naturally in all rape seed oil aka Canola. However; what they neglected to disclose was that there are many other toxic chemicals in Rape aka Canola. My story was a journey into the jaws of hell, simply because I was denied the right to choose. I never ate canola or rape by choice. Indeed, why would I?

 

The Canadian government and Monsanto knew this product would create chronic illnesses that no doctor on the planet would be able to identify. I write my story in the hopes of saving millions of children around the world, who now are in jeopardy of getting my disease. And for those who already have it - it can be reversed.

 

I began to cripple at the age of six. At the age of 70, I went from death to dancing, crippled to cross country skiing, climbing Capreol Mountain, a 40 minute drive north of Sudbury, Ontario, Canada. Yes, I climbed for the first time; pain free, 1,000 and 2,000 feet on skies. Furthermore; my youth was restored. I look absolutely beautiful. Many men 15-30 said so. Well, I was not trying to look so good; I just hated being a cripple. The Okra Diet for Disease control I designed had a strange side effect as well; it restored my memory and was anti-aging.

 

At 70 years of age, I got well through food - not drugs.

 

What happened to me is important because I was a very successful business investment analyst. I had been vegetarian almost my whole life. Canola destroyed my life, if it could happen to me, it can happen to anyone. I shriek in horror watching Dr. Oz Show with guests who exclaim health benefits of Canola! BEWARE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD! Imagine yourself, living in Germany 1936 and you know your government and Leader is killing people but no one believes you. Well that is me! Imagine how you would feel living yourself in brutality and torture of an insidious disease. Somehow you survive seeing people dying all around you and no one cares? Well, that is me!

 

I was born on my grandparent’s farm, Verner, Ontario. I was pretty, talented, gifted in creative ability and very healthy. I could sing, run like the wind, and dance with no training so well, professional dancers said I reminded them of Rita Hayworth.

 

Suddenly, at 6 years old, I plummeted to the ground, screaming in a heap of excruciating pain, unable to walk or lift myself. My father carried me into the house. Lay me down on the sofa and wrapped ice packs around my head. I was in grade one but from that day until I graduated at 16 from Sudbury Tech, I was barred from playing sports.

 

All through those years I continued to take crippling attacks that struck like a thunder bolt of lightening, with no warning. While other children played sports I lived in the library. I have few happy memories in Sudbury. However; in summer when I would be sent to the farm to live with my grandparents, I have no memory of being either in pain or sick. I fished, danced with snakes, sang to birds, and picked blueberries and strawberries eating them as any child would. I lay in the strawberry field, singing, and picking; “Here’s one for Grandma.” Here’s one for me. Popping a ripe wild berry into my mouth.

 

Then Bob Temple on his motorcycle showed up one day, slowly following me home on his bike and talking to me as if he had known me forever. He seemed to know who I was, inside and out. It was obvious to us both we were soul mates. We talked of our future and getting married as if we had been lovers for a century. Yet, he refused to be sexual with me. It was Bob’s way of giving me back the gift of my virginity. He told me sex has nothing to do with love.


He drove us to Moonlight beach, sat me down overlooking Ramsey Lake on a rock and began to tell me that he would not be able to marry me. He was going to die soon. His voice trailed off as I listened dazed, confused. He warned me to get out of Sudbury; doctors will try to kill you. You must leave. You have a job to do on the planet, saying, “Trudy, you are going to research your disease and save the lives of millions of children hundreds of years from now. You will succeed. I will never leave you; god will always send you someone to help you. We will be together forever, I love you.

 

Tears of grief consumed my brain. I couldn’t hear all of the rest. But he gave me a detailed account of what my life would be like, horrible, grotesque, brutal and cruel. Yet, I would survive. He held me close as I sobbed. Then he gave me one last kiss. Later that very night, Saturday, October 29, 1960, around midnight, he was hit by a drunk driver. Bob’s body flew off the bike and was thrown into a barbed wire fence. 40 ft. beyond they found his severed bleeding head.

 

My paralysis attacks continued only worse. My immune system was collapsing and even a small cut would infect. I wound up on antibiotics to the point of no return. So many antibiotics, eventually, I became both sick and immune to them. I worked in pain. From the age of 16 to 43 years old, 27 years, an eternity in hell. Picking up the fragmented pieces of myself, splattered amongst the tattered remnants of a career in shambles, amid the rubble of financial chaos. Fighting in a gruesome battle for survival with no medical sane humane treatment, or even a diagnosis. Medically, I did not exist!


1981 I was so successful, two homes, a highly respected real-estate investment consultant, I received calls from Hong Kong, India, Australia. All asking to work only with me. I made the papers often. My favourite was the Globe and Mail. 1983 I was catatonic for 5 months. Still, I made the national leaders club for Royal Trust in Canada. Despite my crippling torture, I always did volunteer work. To name a few: Holy Blossom Temple. Reading to the WWI veterans at Sunnybrook Hospital who lived their lives in oil vats. Their flesh had been burned so badly from mustard gas they spend the rest of their live there. When I was asked if I minded reading to them, because most people refused saying they could not bear to see them like that. What cowards I thought. I was so disgusted. I felt it was a privilege to do it, proud and honoured to be of help to them.

 

Age 40 to 44, my immune system collapsed. Infections spread through me like a prairie fire. January 1984: I lost my memory again, only this time it was permanent. I could no longer read or write. My speech was impaired, childlike. No longer able to work, my doctors of over 20 years, refused to sign for my disability insurance. The agony of my disease, a paraplegic, crawling on my hands and knees, choking on mucus and blood I longed for the peace of death. Unemployable I was abandoned by everyone I had ever loved.

 

March 1984, demented, screaming in pain, I crawled to my car and drove to a nearby bluff on Lake Ontario. I rammed my foot on the gas, got it up to 50 miles an hour and tried to drive off the cliff. Three feet from the edge the car came to a sudden stop. Determined to die, I crawled to the cliffs edge, planning to plunge in to the freezing water and swim myself to death if need be.

 

Just at the cliff’s edge a white ball of light picked me up and put me into the back seat of my car. Hallucination you say? I doubt it. I fought and cursed that ball to no avail. It lay me down and wrapped itself around me, I became engulfed in a warm embrace, and softly it put me to sleep. The next morning the paralysis attack was over but I could hear children’s voices. I sat on the edge of that cliff for a long time watching 3 young children play in the sand and water below. I made a vow in that instance. I will never deliberately try to kill myself again. I will research this cursed disease of mine and try to save children from getting it. And I vowed I would never charge a penny for what I discover. I will find a way through food, not drugs.

 

There is just too much that happened for me to recount in such a short space provided by a website. What you need to know is that I got all I ever needed to know from Americans. All the science they sent me was for free. The secretary at the Whitehouse helped and I got thousands of documents. NIOSH Dept. of Chemical Hazards, EPA Dallas, Texas. Especially Dr. Jaffe’s research on Adult Children of Alcoholics. He wrote me a note. Prince Charles also spoke out against canola. I wrote thanking him. His secretary also sent me a nice note. I cherish those notes. All of which I made hundreds of copies and tried to distribute it to help our workers being poisoned on the job.

 

The auto industry returned it not interested. The Steel Workers Union took it and did get the better MSA gas mask equipment, I use. I got the Veterans Association in Virginia, USA to come up to Canada to help our vets who were also being denied disability, just like I was.

 

My disease was diagnosed in New York City, May 1989 as being Parkinsonism. He did not entirely know the cause since we don’t measure toxicity in the body but agreed that pollution and even being forced to take Benadryl would certainly have made it worse.

 

1995: Quite by accident too sick to cook okra I ate it raw. The very next day I began to feel the cloud in my brain lift. No I was still a cripple but now I could regain and relearn. 12 years to relearn the meaning of words with a dictionary. 18 years to relearn how to make a sentence that did not look like gibberish. I worked without sleep, without food, too close to stop now. Obsessed? Of course. I knew and had the scientific proof - I had been right all along. Millions of children were in jeopardy and I had no help to save them but myself. I must find a way or die trying. That’s how I live.

 

2005: I had done so much good and helped so many with my diet research. Hundreds got well. Everyone but me. Another catastrophic attack hit, I was terminal again, and I had no idea why? Crippled crying in pain, I went into a local baker for coffee on crutches. An older German man, dying, that I had known for years, rushed to my aid. Then his eyes had a look of shock, horror, as if seeing a ghost, he said, “Oh my god! I am so sorry! I should have known. I should have known!” What? I was confused. He mumbled then whispered to me, “Don’t want anyone to hear. I should have realized this sooner. Canola Oil is the cause of your disease! Trudi, he choked. He was almost in tears. He told me a horrifying story which I will not go into except to repeat part of what is relevant to me.

 

“Canola oil is toxic. Always was and always will be. Monsanto and Canadian government have always known that. It causes slow chronic illness and in your case it struck you down as a child because your father was a junk food addict. Canola is the cause.” He just shook, then gave me a big hug. I never saw him again; he died a few weeks later. Unfortunately; I never bought Canola and I had no way of knowing how to get well from it either. I used what I did know on chemical hazards by detoxifying with potatoes and sour cream to help flush out into the toilet from the bowels. But how was I going to get it out of my fat cells. The old detox methods made me worse, not better.

 

Afraid that my work would die with me, I called Glen, in Washington DC, a science writer begging him to take my research, fearful it would die with me. He agreed, saying, “Trudi, are you still eating Canadian food?” Gee, Glen I am in Canada. He then laments his sorrow that he had just assumed I knew. Knew what? I exclaim.

 

Trudi, I though you knew. You have no right to know food ingredients; legislation in Canada, Health Canada had refused for 50 years to give you the same food labeling laws we have in the U.S. and most of Europe. You have to boycott all Canadian food, no restaurants, no packages, nothing is safe for you.” Dear god, I yell, “Bloody bastards! What about children with allergies. How could we be so god damned stupid! I mean me, how could I have been so stupid! I should have stayed in New York. They treated me like a princess. I had the best 5 days of my life in New York. No bloody wonder I got well in New York back in 1989! Canola and Rape was banned.”

 

It took me years to perfect my OKRA DIET FOR DISEASE CONTROL SYSTEM. It slowly restored my memory, rejuvenated my brain and controls entirely all my Parkinsonism within major limitations. I was not trying to look younger, that is just one of the side effects of my system. It restored my mother’s brain seizure and today at 94 she can dance, drives her own car, and has total memory recall.

 

I had my last terminal paralyzing attack summer at 69. September, 29, 2011 I turned 70. I went from death to dancing, but still crawling to climb. Finally, January 2012, I went from being a cripple to cross country skiing, climbing Capreol Mountain. I have to drive to breathe clear clean air. But it is worth it.

 

Today I am almost 2 years 100% pain free, no chronic illness, no infections, and as healthy as I was at the age of 5. I love my new strong body and mother is still my child and dance partner at 94. I kept my vow to the children and Creator of the Universe. It is done and it is all for free. What you do with it is your choice. I give you the choice that my government denied me.

 

I want to live where I can have a dog that will protect me from bears. I don’t want to have to crawl on my hands and knees to climb stairs in a gas mask to get from my basement bedroom to my sewing room. Spring, summer & fall, I am trapped indoors. I want to live in a home where I can walk outside without wearing a gas mask. Is that too much to ask?

 

I am not proud to be a Canadian - but thanks to Americans - I am proud to have survived. I began my quest to save children from the ravages of my disease. In the end it was the children who save me. I tell you all this so that you will remember, no matter what the hardship in life you encounter - one person - one child - can make a difference. I shall be long forgotten before the laws will change. I lived a holocaust to gain human rights for you and your children, that I was denied. Each of us is a gift from the Creator of the Universe. If you remember this, you will flourish, stop, look around you and listen.

 

Hear my prayer for you and feel god’s loving caresses, as whispers in the wind. I want you to know that in god’s light you are all loved equally. And to those many children of my memories, I love you all and am eternally grateful. You showed me the true beauty of love is more than skin deep. As a cripple dying, I was ugly to the world, yet you found me beautiful. You are the blessed gift from the Creator of the Universe. And it will be through you and your next generation who will save the world from its’ greed.

 

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1 Comment

Reply Trudi Trahan-upchan
3:21 AM on July 6, 2013 
Len Voycey rewrote, edited and corrected everything including my bio which was a mess. Len is an amazing talented man and I am so lucky to call him my friend. He did for me what I could never have done for myself in ten lifetimes. May the creator of the universe bless all & hopefully someday; I will live to see the full disclosure on our food labels, & the right to choose what I eat - that Health Canada has denied Canadians.