7th sons and holiday graves

This part of Donegal still has its tradition of healers, 7th-sons-of-7th-sons, old women who make up their own potions - even anti-cancer sweets have been mentioned to me. And if you're hanging around cancer patients, all these things get discussed. Everyone has a friend or family member who were told their situation was hopeless. They went to this person, said the prayer, took the sweeties, made the vow and whatever, returned to the doctors to discover that the cancer was gone. You hear hundreds of these stories. So many, in fact, you wonder who are in all the graveyards around here. Unless they are eternity's answer to the holidayhome bonanza...
Pardoxically, when people hear you have cancer, they also tell you how they've never heard of so many people dying from it. And there will follow another story - of misdoagnosis, perhaps; of partners left behind and young children devastated.
Without going into all the theology, I don't belive in an interventionist god who is going to sort out my situation. Not one who would do that for me and leave kids in Darfur to die in agony or watch Jews go to the gaschamber.
But a magic sweetie...Wouldn't that just be great?