I created this fundraising company with the idea of establishing a non-governmental organization with a humanitarian status. I am about to publish a book called "Blue Feelings", The book where I tell my spiritual experience during the cancer operation. God loved me so much that he saved me and I can't help but tell everyone about my experience. I stepped for a few moments beyond where...and now I find the courage to tell my experiences. Every donation is an opportunity to read this book, no matter where you are in the world and no matter how much you donate. You will have the option to receive a PDF version of the book and the option to receive the book by mail.

I reproduce an excerpt from the book here:

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,,Words are too dry to describe the valley of death into which I slipped and how long I stayed there, because everything was confused and I had the impression that I was a spectator of my life or, why not, of my passing.

I felt that nothing depended on my choices anymore, that everything was predestined to happen this way, according to the script of fate put on jokes.

I was too helpless to dissect what was happening to me, whether it was me, someone else, or a mere spectator in a theater. I only remembered the verdict I received, that of operating as urgently as possible, because the neoplasm was developing at a gallop and every day counted enormously.

After receiving the terrible news, I refused to eat for several days, so as not to feed the monster inside me, thinking that this was the only way to destroy it. I didn't want to feed the hydra that I knew would grow unhindered unless God performed a miracle. Honestly, I didn't even have an appetite anymore. I was getting weaker by the day, becoming a shadow lying in bed and that was it. I had also made my will in my lost and troubled mind. I will leave the children in the care of my then-divorced sister, and if she wants, why don't I also leave the husband, not only the children, the clothes, the jewelry...a ring and a gold chain, as if it were a chest of pearls, and the parents not to make them sad, I won't even tell them anything about what I'm going through, to protect them from suffering. My sister, when she found out about my imaginary will, looked at me with pity and agreed to take care of my children for a while, but she didn't show any excitement about my husband, because she doesn't resonate with him emotionally and that's it... I'm done with the nonsense and with the tear-jerking series that were running at that time. But as life beats the film, it can be seen that God overturned all my thought patterns and shook me well from everything, that after a while I forgot about the stray thoughts I had.

By the time I got the surgery appointment, I had a week to ponder my horrible life and the death that was lurking around the corner, my helplessness that triggered my hypertension and panic attacks, insomnia and a lot of physical pain their soul. I would go to bed at night with the painkillers on the nightstand, and in the morning I would find that, in fact, I hadn't slept for even an hour. The hemorrhaging had drained me of the moisture, taking away my power to live. I clung to the hope of survival only out of the desire to raise my children, who were very sad to lose me. I fought desperately not to fall into the traps of the mind, which firmly announced the sentence: "Now you will really leave...".

I was clinging to life with the last of my strength, struggling like a fish on land, searching for even the glimmer of a dewdrop that would take me to the ocean.

I wanted to forget all the pain, to say that it was just a sinister joke of fate, to wake up the next day healed and forget those episodes in my life, to live on without doing anything at all, following a pattern I knew already, being afraid to accept a change that was coming fast, forcing me to make a choice.

I remember how, after I was taken out of the operating room, the oxygen mask on my face, instead of feeding my lungs with air, was more like suffocating me. The pain was maddeningly beyond the bearable limit. The anesthesia was no longer effective. I felt like I was falling down an empty staircase, numb and helpless, without the strength to hold on to anything.

My body stopped responding to the commands I received. I couldn't even turn my head, let alone lift it. I could only roll his eyes, but all I could see was fog and drifting shadows that enveloped me like a crystal ball. My voice was strangled and lost, as if I no longer had it. Even whispers barely left my lips and I couldn't articulate a single word.

I raised two fingers, like in school, with great effort, or maybe I thought I raised them, in an instinctive gesture to somehow draw attention to the fact that I was sick, caressing the sheet. The voices of those around me could be heard confusedly, from somewhere behind me or below me, like an echo from a deep chasm, into which I continued to descend as if through a tunnel. ,,

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I am a writer and a painter at the same time. From the sale of the book, I want to establish an NGO to support culture. Thank you.