---

My husband and I met at a meditation week, when we were both still married. We were both in similar circumstances, because our partners were quite happy to do without our company - we were actually alone. Independently of each other, it had also already become painfully clear to us that growing old in this dreary way was not an option. What we had tried with our partners, to grow close again, had failed.

Chance sent us to this seminar and seated us at the same large round table, but never together. On the first day I suffered from migraine and withdrew after lunch, which my husband already took note of with regret at the time. When I felt better the next day, he looked after me, was attentive, and I enjoyed his company. Neither of us had anything to give away for free. To finally have someone again who was interested in you, with whom you could talk about anything under the sun, who felt so strangely familiar and somehow similar to one's own nature, impressed us both. When my now-husband - himself astonished afterwards - spontaneously blurted out on the 3rd day already, asking whether I could imagine living with him, I wasn't even particularly astonished. I thought about it briefly, said that I probably still ought to know a few things... - „well, yes!“

And from then on everything took on a life of its own, even though I was married in Switzerland, had a 17-year-old son and was working - and he lived in Germany with his family - albeit with one child who had already moved out and one who was nearly grown up.

After one of the frequent, exhausting arguments picked out of thin air, he therefore did not smooth things over for once, but instead told his then often moody wife that he would spare her the fighting and move out.
I too settled everything, had my son's blessing for it, quit my job and emigrated. In a small 40 m² apartment we were simply happy, without much in the way of possessions.

While I had managed to carry out the separation decently and mostly respectfully, which also made later friendly contact possible, his ex-wife suddenly became combative, would have liked to do everything better after all and turn back the clock, and accordingly she often interfered in our life. There were calls that got hung up on whenever I was the one who answered. She had matters where she urgently HAD to see him - and she managed to arrange important meetings „because of the children“. An ugly, manipulative game against me, though I wasn't fully aware of it at the time.

At some point I noticed how hard it had become for me to deal with the need to go to the toilet without stress while on the road. Meanwhile, by then married, we were traveling across Europe in the truck, and it could happen that, just as we arrived at a rest stop, a bus would also release its human cargo toward the rest-stop building. Dreadful, having to then wait on tenterhooks for the toilets. This urge to go to the toilet would often set in like a sudden ambush. So sometimes there was nothing for it but, for example while shopping in supermarkets, to crouch down for a while and strainedly search for something on the lowest shelf, until the

worst of the urge had passed and I could make it to the store's restroom. Really quite a nuisance.
Still, I didn't give it any further thought. I had already known this for a while from slightly older female acquaintances - who, similarly afflicted in the past, would sometimes rush to the toilets as a group. It didn't affect me back then, and I simply registered that at a certain age that might just be how it is. Advertising, after all, addressed this topic quite intrusively too.

It was never so bad that I would have had to wear incontinence pads. The practical panty liners I used anyway - especially given the limited comfort while traveling - were sufficient.

And then suddenly everything was different. I noticed that urinating took a bit longer, because the stream was a bit thinner. I was „watertight“ again and could choose whether to go to the toilet right away - or only in 4 hours. Brilliant. But then, one day at home in the bathtub, I felt a growth about 2 to 3 cm in size, which was apparently causing this change. At first I was frightened. And of course thoughts of „cancer“ shoot through your mind - especially given how burdened my family has been by it. But nonsense!

And I began to think it over. The bathtub, with paper and pen at its edge, had already helped me solve many such puzzles before.

What had so suddenly changed? Then it became clear to me. My husband's ex-wife had gotten married!!!! Finally. And I also remembered a conclusive story I had once heard at the Hamer regulars' table, which explained a lot. Namely, that a cat, through whose territory a strange, different female cat often roams, biologically-sensibly begins to lose urine through atrophy of the mucous membranes, thereby unconsciously marking her territory without any deliberate action. And that was exactly what had happened to me. Only not over a few days or a week - but over a minimum of two years. That the repair, i.e. the healing, would overshoot was absolutely logical.

What a relief - and on top of that, what luck that my husband didn't put me under pressure, because sexual intercourse wasn't possible with this. The growth was too big for that, which would have been painful. As it was, though, I felt nothing and had no complaints at all.

What madness it would have been if I had gone to the doctor, possibly let myself be frightened, and then, under pressure, maybe had something snipped away? There's always the question, too, of whether such an operation even works. Would I have received treatment - including medication - that I would never have wanted?
And risk this ability to decide when I WANT to go to the toilet? Never! We were still traveling in the truck, and I was overjoyed about my new freedom.

How did it continue? - After the calmly calculated roughly 2-3 years, the growth had indeed simply disappeared again. Thank you, Dr. Hamer.