Fecal therapy
Preface
Around 1990, a friend of mine dropped out of graduate school at the biofactory and got a job in a more profitable place - in the publishing house "Healing Forces", which opened for the Soviet people the life–giving fountain of urine therapy and its inexhaustible source, the weightlifter doctor G.Malakhov. And somehow, at a drunken meeting for some reason, she stuck to me: you know how to write letters, and you work as a semi-doctor, and we are starting a monthly magazine with the same name in the publishing house "Itit Healing Powers" – maybe you will write an article there? Oh – I say – with pleasure! I have long wanted to share with the scientific community an excellent method of treatment: fecal therapy!
Some of those present began to vividly discuss the possibilities of this method, including for the treatment of caries, wrinkles, etc., but were quickly and mercilessly suppressed by the rest – who are ladies, non-biologists and non-doctors. And even at the table!
And the girl pursed her lips and said: you are all fools, and Dr. Malakhov has been using this wonderful method for a long time, and very successfully. Including in dentistry and cosmetology. And he doesn't publish it because there are only fools and Orthodox people around!
A Healthy Skeptic
Malakhov: a locksmith who wishes you wellTatiana Solomatina, Be Healthy magazine
We went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Behind me, the TV was humming steadily with an inarticulate fricative accent. There was nothing surprising in the Little Russian accent, generously seasoned with speech defects, especially since the hotel was located in Ukraine, in the city of Russian sailors Sevastopol. But suddenly my husband changed his face and, having stopped eating a continental breakfast, began to poke a fork at the blue screen behind my back:
– What is this? A humorous show?
I turned around. On the screen, a bald man, who looked like a stately mechanic, was polishing the collar area of a portly aunt with boot brushes. Her bare feet were immersed in an intimidating-looking enameled basin filled with something yellowish-foamy. A lady who vaguely resembled Elena Proklova looked at this action with tender enthusiasm.
– Yes, some Ukrainian Petrosian, – I waved off and returned to the meal.
– And here is no and not Ukrainian, but your own. And not Petrosian, but Malakhov. Dr. Malakhov," the waiter said grandly. – My grandmother prays for this unfortunate doctor, my mother is tired of pouring urine infused with dog hair into the toilet. Ugh!
– Bon appetit! – my husband pushed the plate away, and under the coffee we plunged into the sweet world of the wellness program.
– Is it exactly the twenty-first century outside the window? – I asked my husband, having heard the recommendation to treat cirrhosis by putting bleach under the tongue.
– Come on, what idiots will watch it!
We laughed and forgot.
What was my surprise at the next meeting with Dr. Malakhov, which took place – where would you think? – in Moscow, in the kitchen of my father-in-law Mikhail E. Solomatin, candidate of physico-technical sciences, saved by official medicine from laryngeal cancer.
– Dad, why are you watching this stuff? I said with the intonation of Beni Creek.
– Eh?! – Dad did not immediately respond in the manner of "Who's here?!"
– Dad, you can't!
After that, we debated for about an hour, and my adorable beautiful dad, beloved almost more than my husband, convinced me that it wasn't such a bullshit. And I thought that a Moscow intellectual, unlike the Sevastopol grandmother of a waiter, should understand. And he seems to understand that drinking kerosene with honey is not very useful, if not harmful, but he still watches this muddy program, falling into the blue screen. Solely for his sake, I set out to study a person called "Gennady Petrovich Malakhov".
***
Gennady Petrovich was born on September 20, 1954 in Kamensk-Shakhtinsk, Rostov region. After school, he graduated from vocational school with a degree in electrical fitter. In the army, I got into a sports company. Weightlifter. "At twenty–seven or twenty-eight, I was so mighty, I weighed 108 kilograms. He lifted his wife on one arm. And then all of a sudden, almost in a year, everything literally fell apart. I went from one doctor to another until I realized that no one would help me. I don't need to take pills, but to completely change my lifestyle." Inspired by this "revelation", Gena reaches out to the books of Bragg and Shelton and tries everything inside and out.
He was forced to leave the army for health reasons. Malakhov himself reports that he entered the Institute of Physical Education and graduated with honors. Since he did not turn out to be an Olympic champion, Malakhov retrained as a caretaker. At the gym. Later he worked as a loader at a wine and vodka factory. Apparently, from those times our "healer" has so many recipes using the most ordinary cheap vodka – oh, these healing powers of fusel oils! Then he worked as a machinist of a refrigeration unit, a diver and the head of a rescue station. In short, our Gene was good at everything: he is both an athlete and a diver. His wife, by the way, was very well arranged – a technologist at the same wine and vodka factory. As Gennady Petrovich himself admits, "a very profitable specialty in those years." It was this circumstance that allowed him to deal with himself. From idleness.
In 1986, he created the "Cheerfulness" club and broadcast the "apostolic" knowledge to the world: how to eat right. And then he decides to "sit down" for the book. Why not sit down in a country of rampant letter literacy and sheep credulity? And so in 1989 he created the first volume of the epochal four-volume canvas "Healing Forces", generously reducing the pearls of colloquial speech of the Russian peasantry and the proletariat, far from the people of Bragg and Shelton. But God be with him, with the language – there would be sales, and there would be editors. The point is different: in the "recipes" themselves, if I may say so.
As an obstetrician-gynecologist, I was frankly scared by the advice on regulating the menstrual cycle. For example, a "cute" advice for PMS: "It is useful to keep your feet in very hot water for two hours (my italics), where to add a handful of salt and two or three handfuls of wood ash... It is also recommended to drink half a glass of brewer's yeast and fresh milk for several days."
Yeah, yeah, with PMS, and so the smooth muscles of the intestine relax, and you get yeast there, but with milk - an amazing result! Also, a kind electrician-healer suggests that women do not shun ergot and chernobyl, and in such doses that any more or less competent obstetrician-gynecologist will come into a state of shock. I will comment simply, in the style of Gennady Petrovich: your uterus will turn inside out if you follow his advice exactly, and you will rush in a white carriage with a blue flashing beacon to the emergency room with a diagnosis of "Uterine bleeding". And you will feel like a "diluted jelly". If, of course, you survive.
However, the doctor-electrician Malakhov claims that he has tried all his recipes on himself. It must be assumed that the regulation of the menstrual cycle and the treatment of PMS, too.
And his "research" in the theological and energy fields is beyond the limit. After reading G. Malakhov's article "What is the Power of natural healing", I almost lost faith in my own intelligence. Because "my thought was disturbing and confused and torn" in attempts to comprehend how the "course of intestinal cleansing on lemons" works "on my consciousness." In general, there it is, the doctor-electrician, in the stove.
Read, dear, read! Read masterpieces multiplied by a total circulation of up to 12 million. Twelve million "lie down" and "shake your bellies." See how you, smart and educated, are taught by a man who graduated from vocational school. The death of any empire begins when instead of bread they "eat" spectacles. As you know, you won't be full of them for a long time. And the old people are the first to die of hunger.
By the way, the wife and two children of the highly respected electrician Gennady Petrovich Malakhov, when trying to introduce them to a "healthy lifestyle," sent daddy far away. They do not drink kerosene, but they have already built themselves a three-storey house and got a farm for the dividend from the healing properties of the crystalline precipitate of evaporated urine into your ears.
I do not know how to wean our parents and grandparents to watch this show. Except with the help of an "energy supply" in the form of a hypertensive bucket enema. You can use lemon. Or better yet, take them out regularly for a medical examination. Even if they offer armed resistance. I personally began to invite my father-in-law to visit more often and walk with him for a long time along the shore of the reservoir in the forest near Moscow, telling how I was electrocuted when I undertook to repair the sockets.
I'm not against folk healers. For example, very much "for" the recipes of Olga Alexandrovna Morozova, now deceased, about whom both doctors of medicine and pharmacists spoke well. But her work is the result of a good education, coupled with long–term observations of her own. And not at all the works of popularizers from "folk psychotherapy", generously stuffed with "karmic" terms and phrases "back in Ancient China...", coupled with recipes, after reading which eating raw placenta seems like a nice dessert for the dinner table.
However, I believe that, like any spectacle, the transfer of the "healer" has a very real task: to distract from the pressing problems of official medicine the most disadvantaged and most aggressive segment of consumers of public health services: pensioners. Sotsakaz is a bread business. Certified doctors never dreamed of such talents.
Portal "Eternal youth" www.vechnayamolodost.ru12.11.2008