Turbo Cancer: Day 179 - December 7, 2022
Maintaining Her Peace
This day, last year, was quiet.
It was peaceful.
The narcotics were increased, yet again. My mom still had her one-hundred mcg Fentanyl patch. Her sublingual Dilauded drops had been increased from every two hours to “as needed.” Because she had been confused and trying to get up and out of her bed, an anxiety medicine, Lorazipam, had been added to the mix.
In order for us to stay ahead of her pain, we sat and we watched her face. At around ninety minutes past her last dose, we could see tiny movements of the facial muscles. Her eyes tightened and she grimaced, indicating that she had gone from peaceful to uncomfortable. As soon as we saw those changes, we administered her medicine.
We were able to keep her comfortable. We were able to maintain her peace.
Before beginning hospice, my mom had found a television show that she loved, Grace and Frankie, starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. It is a show about two healthy women enjoying their old age.
My mom binged Grace and Frankie over and over again. Jane and Lily danced across the screen, engaged in all sorts of wacky adventures. It was the future that my mom had once imagined for herself. It was the vision that turbo cancer had stolen from her.
Having her show playing in the background made her happy. We kept it on. Having seen each episode many times over, she knew when there would be a particularly funny scene. My mom was rarely conscious or talking, but when she heard her favorite lines, her eyelids fluttered, her eyebrows raised, and her cheeks lifted into a tiny smile.
Somewhere, deep down inside, she was laughing.
She had been so incredibly healthy. Maintaining her health had been her top priority. She had exercised, spent time in nature and avoided temptation. She had lived life in the sunshine: walking, swimming and tending to her garden. Until turbo cancer, there had never been a reason to assume that her old age would be filled with anything beside Grace and Frankie-style adventures.
Life changes in an instant. It is unpredictable. Nothing can be assumed and nothing can be taken for granted.
My mom had worked hard to be good, kind and healthy. She had loved and trusted easily. Her greatest failure was in trusting the wrong people. She believed the words of those who speak to us through speakers. She believed the glowing faces of those on the media screen.
She couldn’t see that they were corrupted. She didn’t recognize their lack of morals. She never knew that they had lost their capacity to love. Her brain had been tricked into believing that the people on the TV were real, and that they cared.
They never cared about my mom, your brother, your neighbor’s daughter or your best friend’s son. Because they have been elevated to the point of being projected into our living rooms, they have deluded themselves into believing that they are superior. To them, we are less. In their eyes, we are disposable.
We have been attacked. Our society has been ripped to shreds. Our families have been severed. Our people have been murdered.
And those shiny faces, glowing in our living room, appearing on our TV set, phone, tablet, or computer, encouraged our self-destruction. They told us to detest who we are. They stole our potential. They took from us our ability to become who we were meant to be.
We are justified in our anger. Our anger is just.
A great crime has been committed. Every single person who coerced another into being injected with the substance that was referred to as the “Covid-19 Vaccine” is an accessory to murder. It is that simple.
For some, the reality of our situation is difficult to accept. For me, it is black and white - there are no grey areas.
This is a war of good versus evil. This is truth against lies. We are witnessing the great clash between our glorious God and Satan himself.
While on hospice, my mom had short periods of consciousness. On this day, she opened her eyes, looked at my husband, and asked: “How did this happen?”
He told me later that, in that moment, the truth felt like cruelty. When the vaccines had become available, she had had a choice. Confused by the fantastical propaganda campaign that had permeated our existence, she chose wrong. She was suffering the consequences of her mistake. Telling her, in that moment, that the vaccine was the culprit would have felt as if he had been telling her that she had done this to herself.
The minds that planned this attack were brilliantly devious. They murdered us, and then twisted the story to make it seem as if we had murdered ourselves.
My husband didn’t want to hurt my mom. These were the last days of her life, and he didn’t want to tell her that it had been her own brain that had betrayed her. He brought his hands forward with his palms facing up, shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He said: “I don’t know, Mama. I don’t know.”
To support my work, make a one-time donation or purchase art, visit my ko-fi site:
Kristi, I totally understand all you speak of. The jab led to my own mother’s death in 2021. By the grace of God my eyes were open early on to the lies, deceit, and propaganda. I tried talking my parents out of taking it, but the MSM and peer pressure was so relentless. I’m truly sorry for your losses. ❤️ We are in spiritual warfare.
What else could he say? His anger could be, would be boiling over, but he dare not let it show to you mom, what else could he say?