Turbo Cancer: Day 161 - November 19, 2022
Infection
On this day, last year, I wrote:
I took my mom to the emergency room today. My mom’s surgical site had become painful and swollen. I helped her remove her bandage and discovered puss around the incision and a foul odor.
In the ER they took a culture, ran some blood tests and did a scan. They have decided to keep my mom in the hospital for more tests, observation and antibiotics.
We are waiting for a room to become available.
Days earlier, I had pointed out a small amount of puss to Doctor S. He had said not to worry about it.
Why did I listen to him?
In spite of everything that man had put us through, my mom and I continued to trust him.
There are parts of this story that don’t make sense. Our continued, misguided love for Doctor S is one of those parts.
Obviously, infection is something to worry about. Even in the healthy, we immediately treat signs of infection. My mom was not healthy. With the sudden onset of three types of cancer, one did not have to be a doctor to understand that her immune system had failed.
I knew that.
Doctor S knew that.
Why did Doctor S tell me not to worry when there was a clear sign of infection?
And why did I listen to him?
When the man in the white coat had told me not to worry, I automatically suppressed my innate, legitimate feelings of concern. Because I subconsciously viewed the doctor as a figure of authority, I ignored my instincts. That was a mistake.
That was a mistake that I will always regret.
On this day, last year, I was forced to worry.
The reality of the situation overrode the hypnotizing assurances of the doctor.
The whole country was getting ready for Thanksgiving. Traffic was getting heavy with travelers. The grocery stores were packed with shoppers. Families were cleaning, decorating and cooking.
For two years, the pandemic narrative, and its accompanying political narrative, had used fear to keep people apart. In 2022, at my mom’s house, we planned to be together.
It was the weekend before the holiday. Aunt Linda came over early. She wanted to avoid the traffic. She wanted to see my mom before she got busy preparing her own Thanksgiving feast.
She had brought homemade root vegetable soup and Irish soda bread.
While Aunt Linda was preparing the lunch, I went into the bathroom to help my mom wash up and change her bandage. When my mom removed the heavy dressing, I was blown away by the smell.
It was disgusting.
It was putrid.
It smelled like death.
I covered my nose and my mouth with a rag and looked at my mom’s incision. There was puss oozing from the surgical site.
I said: “I have to take you to the emergency room.”
My mom said: “No.”
She refused to go: “No more hospital. No more tests. You promised me, no more tests.”
I didn’t know what to say.
I could see no other options. At this point, there were no other options.
By the grace of God, Aunt Linda was there. She was able to calmly convince my mom that going to the hospital was the smartest thing to do.
After a long discussion, my mom said that, if aunt Linda came with her, she would go to the hospital, but only after we sat down and ate our soup.
The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results.
I took my terminally ill mother to the emergency room, because she had an infection in her leg. I thought that the hospital staff would take care of her. I, once again, trusted that the hospital would be the best place for her.
I was functioning with a major flaw in my foundational set of beliefs. I still thought that, while the system was clearly evil and oppressive, those working within the system had maintained a sense of compassion.
I thought that, in general, people were good.
(I probably got that idea from my mom).
This hospital stay proved to me that my sunny outlook had been foolish. I had spent my life giving others the benefit of the doubt. On the evening of November 19, 2022, I met people who were openly, undeniably heartless and unnecessarily cruel. I met people whose spirits had been blackened and eclipsed. I met people who had been crushed under the weight of whatever demons they had faced in their lives.
We are in the midst of a holy war. I came face to face with those who have chosen to work for Satan, himself. There is no other plausible explanation for what happened next.
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I’m so sorry, Kristi.
My husband has two kinds of cancer from the vaccine and I am learning so much from you.
I’ve known from the first that his cancers were from the shots but from your story, my eyes have been opened.
Your own common sense and your own instincts should always override anything that any doctor ever tells you.
I like this post, it is awakening and enlightenment and recognition of evil .