I'm A New Age Hippie

I was trying to save my rescued kitten, Marshmallow, from dying of internal bleeding or FIP (a fatal feline disease that attacks their intestines). My mother, the vet and I didn't know what was wrong with his swollen stomach; x-rays showed that it was filled with "fluid," though I later heard a crackling, like air bubbles popping, when rubbing a certain place on his rib cage. For that reason I thought that his stomach might be filled with air, from a punctured lung, though we still don't know for certain to this day. (For more on how we treated him, see "The Kitten," or leave a comment, and I will try to recall all the supplements we gave him.)
On top of his potentially life-threatening stomach condition, he also had a runny eye, which the vet said was likely chlamydia (cats apparently get it from other cats, not necessarily sexual contact; we treated his eye with food-grade iodine applied in the eye). Perhaps worst of all, though, his pelvis was "shattered," broken in four or five different places, and he was presumably in quite a bit of pain.
The vet seemed required to be neutral, though leaning towards euthanasia; we decided to take Marshmallow home instead.
"I know he might be in a lot of pain, but if he lives, he won't be forever," my mom remarked to me later.
"Exactly," I agreed. "I don't think any animal would say, 'I'm in so much pain, I want to die.'"
But we did not know whether he was going to make it or not. Riding home after the appointment, holding him, my heart was already heavy with grief. We have to do all we can for him, I thought desperately, We CAN'T give up! I sometimes like to call this state, which feels close to insanity, "desperate optimism."
My mother and I would try anything. We stuffed him full of supplements, laxatives (because of the broken pelvis, making it difficult for him to excrete), and herbs. We told him how much we loved him. I sang to him the "I Love You Forever" song, over and over.
I even held him and tried to send "healing love vibes" to him, from my heart, trying to strengthen him and his immune system. I whispered stuff like, "Let my love heal you," and "Let me give you strength." I did not know if they did any good at all, but I had to try.
I would try anything to help him, but I don't remember praying during this time. I think I would start prayers, but never end with an "amen."
"Please, let him live--oh, what's the point? You don't care!" is my typical prayer during difficult times.
I have no idea about the effectiveness of any kind of "intercession," though I would try anything, to cure an animal or human. Except that I have difficulty with prayer, oddly enough, because of my experience with trying and seemingly failing to get close to God and to please him.
I have a very interesting book by new age writer Louise Hay, called "You Can Heal Your Life." Its basic premises are that physical conditions often manifest emotional states--near-sightedness means you don't want to see the future, for example, and menstrual cramps mean that you don't like being a woman, so that in addition to treating the physical condition, you must treat the emotional state, or you will continue to have problems. She says that no matter what the ailment, the first place she starts is teaching her clients to love themselves. I think she is right at least about one thing: Most people avoid looking into mirrors as they pass, because they don't want to deal with themselves. A way to cure this is to look into a mirror and say, "I love you," with your own name.
 I have tried some of her techniques for affirmations, and they have seemed to work, sometimes. Even if they are placebos, I do think that the suggestion to masturbate in order to cure migraine headaches is certainly not a placebo.
A lot of atheists would probably ridicule me for my strange health practices, but I'm not a scientist in a laboratory, trying to find out something. I'm a person living my life, trying to throw everything I can at a problem (provided the treatments and such are not likely to be dangerous).
And what I get from being a hippie in this way is that at least I know that I've done everything I possibly could have. I think that that's very good for my own mental, emotional, and physical health, in and of itself.