Palliative care that 'didn't make it in time.' The silence my wife left behind, and the reason I picked up my pen again. Final Chapter

After the false veneer of 'healing crisis' peeled away, reality accelerated like rolling down a slope.

My wife's condition deteriorated at a speed far beyond our imagination.
'Should we move to a palliative care ward?'
It was just as I was discussing this with the doctor.

■ The 'final place' we didn't make it to

The paperwork, the transfer, everything was too late.
That was how rapidly the flame of my wife's life had dimmed.

Through the hospital's consideration, we were provided with a private room in the general ward.
'Here, your children can come to see you anytime.'

Just as they said, my daughter would rush into the room after school, still wearing her backpack.
My wife would stroke our daughter's hair lovingly with her thin, frail hand.

Caught between the agony of pain and the morphine, my wife tried to remain a mother until the very end.
And then, quietly, so very quietly, she departed.

The 660,000 yen machine, the suspicious water, the miracles—none of that was here.
All that remained was the cold, harsh fact of death, and the sobbing of myself and my daughter.

## ■ 660,000 yen machine vs. insurance-covered treatment

After the funeral, only that 'radon inhaler' remained in the house.
Even though it should have been hateful to look at, I couldn't bring myself to throw it away immediately.

'I paid so much money for it, couldn't it be used for something...?'

I think that pathetic attachment still lingered within me.
At the time, my daughter's hay fever was severe.
Clutching at straws, I tried having my daughter use the machine.

'Maybe this will make her feel a little better.'

…The result was that nothing changed.
Not even a single runny nose stopped.

After that, we went to an ENT clinic and, on the doctor's recommendation, started 'sublingual immunotherapy.'
It was a treatment where you just hold medicine under your tongue every day.
Then, my daughter's symptoms, which had caused her so much suffering, improved as if by a miracle.

It's ironic.
The 'magic machine' that cost 660,000 yen couldn't change anything, but the insurance-covered 'standard treatment' saved my daughter dramatically.

Real medicine is not found in flashy advertisements, but in the humble examination room.
I was painfully reminded of that at that moment.

With that, my attachment to the machine vanished completely.
I packed it into a box and sent it to the storage shed at my parents' house. So I would never see it again.

■ Why I am writing this now

Several years have passed since then.

To be honest, I didn't have the luxury to write this note.
From the day I lost my wife, I was thrown into a battlefield called 'single fatherhood.'

Waking up to make lunch, going to work, doing housework, and listening to my daughter.
I was so desperate to keep up with daily life that I didn't even have time to grieve.
Having time to ruminate on the anger and regret over the fraud was a luxury.

However, last year, a turning point arrived.
I started living with my elderly parents who lived far away.
My father has mild dementia.

Caring for my parents and my growing daughter.
As the shape of my family changed and I finally had a little time to look back on my past, the regret of that day suddenly resurfaced.

'I want to reduce the number of people who fall victim to the same thing, even if it's just one person.'

That thought pushed me forward.
Even now, the internet is overflowing with advertisements that deceive patients with sweet words.
There are people who are robbed of their chance for treatment by the term 'healing crisis.'

That is why I decided to swallow my shame and leave this record behind.
Believing that my foolish failure might become a 'step to stop and think' for someone else.

To my wife in heaven.
I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.
But I won't let the memories of you go to waste.

(End)

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[To all my readers]

Thank you so much for reading until the end.
This is everything about the 'medical fraud' I experienced.

If your family or friends are about to get hooked on similar suspicious treatments, please show them this note.
Tell them, 'There is someone here who failed.'

To continue this activity, if you resonate with it, I would appreciate your support from the

'Support if you like it' button below.
The support I receive will be used for future investigative activities and efforts to spread accurate medical knowledge.

Para