Still Woozy

December 6, 2022

 

With 99.9° temp. No headache anymore however. Wow. I had no idea what people who suffer from migraines endure. Now I do.

BTW: when I swallowed my nine supplements this morning, I threw up . . . Geez!

Inch by inch . . .

Many thanks to all those who commented on yesterday’s post. Lots of good ideas!

Back to bed.

Oops! Now temp is up to 100.6*

More Ivermectin.

 

Eat Crow, Kreilkamp!

December 5, 2022

 

(I thought I’d published this a few hours ago. But nope. Still in draft form. Okay, my slightly woozy self will tweak it a bit more.)

Well, whaddaya know. Me, one of the proud purebloods, one of the unvaxxed warriors, am now “ill,” “under the weather,” with a temp of 90.2° degrees, slight headache, slightly achy muscles, and slightly constricted airway. (For the first time in many many years!)

Yet this morning I’m still energetic enough to write this post.

(Now, at 4:12 PM I’m exhausted, but jittery, was unable to sleep, though I did lie down for three hours.)

We’ll see what the afternoon brings . . .

(We now know).

I may yet crash.

(Which I did, or I tried to . . .)

Despite my daily dose of supplements: C, D3, zinc, NAC, Quercetin; despite my four or five mugs of “Ann’s chai elixir” (which includes lots of anti-bacterials, plus star anise, and fennel (both of which supposedly neutralize the supposed spike protein shed from the vaxxed)); despite C60, multi-collagen and black seed oil swirled into the first mug of the morning; despite regular dosing over the past three days — my now very ill vaxxed housemate, who takes no supplements, was diagnosed in the ER yesterday with “covid” — with both elderberry syrup, and periodic sniffing colloidal silver up nostrils — what else, oh yes, lots of citrus and sunlight; and, as usual, 3-4 mile walks daily, plus yoga, chikung, taichi, my regular, daily two-hour “physical culture” priority. Pant pant . . .

[Oh, and yes: what I have carefully stashed for these nearly three years just in case someone here really needed it: for me, now, Ivermectin twice daily (upped from once a month). I told my housemate I would give him one yesterday, if he would take it; that Ivermectin is precious. He said, “What is it? Is it a pill? Okay.” Geez . . .)]

My body/mind, buttressed by ego, has held strong during this entire covid drama until  that is, late yesterday when I began to sense my being subtly moving in and out of vulnerability, and would dose with elderberry each time . . .

This morning: Marita already told me she would take Shadow on his walk; son Colin is going to the store for me to get what I ask for: fruit and a homeopathic (oscilloccocinum recommended by a friend);

Despite all this and more — oh and I know I am, after all, nearly 80 years old (born 12/19/42); in short, despite the unusually patterned daily care I do and have been offering my precious, brilliant body for fully forty years, and especially, since “covid,” when I began to take Zelenko and other recommended supplements — I too, am vulnerable.

What? You mean my (proud) ego won’t, can’t, ward off what’s coming in from outside? That after three years slogging through masked, socially distanced, hell, “it” finally got me?

That’s right. Though what is “it”? “It” may be coming from inside. I cannot help but think that the obvious toxicity I am experiencing today (with a grateful nod to the fever for burning it off) comes from decades of fury, contempt even, for those who don’t understand, who refuse to learn how the body really works, and instead, offer themselves as good little mind-controlled slaves to the allopathic attitude that makes and keeps us sick, in league with Big Pharma’s pretend cures. Over and over again, I announce to those who will listen (and many who will not), that the body, with its natively brilliant immune system, is NOT a machine; how the body is infused with the psyche; how my body, your body, all creaturely bodies are inside and at one with the body of Mother Earth — and Beyond.

There is no separation.

If She is toxic, then we are toxic.

If we are toxic, then She is.

And She is. And we are.

Of course, given my living situation, inside three houses of Green Acres Village, with both vaxxed and unvaxxed folks — who sport two entirely separate, indeed utterly antagonistic world-views; long ago, we learned how to “just stay with what we have in common” — I’m not surprised that what I tend to see as the Cultural MK Ultra Mass Formation “Covid”? Con Psy-op has finally, actually, managed to worm its way into my alert, nearly 80-years old, embodied being.

This morning, after I texted those in the other two houses as to my situation, of course I got all sorts of advice from the vaxxed as to how to handle the situation: go to ER, get a new anti-viral for “covid” patients from CVS, on and on. To each I say no, I’m utilizing non-allopathic ways, other ways, and I should have added, ancient ways, ways that nature intended.

(Hmmm . . . I’m thinking the fact that this “sickness” scene has finally managed to pop up within our little village is a sign that, once we’re all in the clear, we need to have a frank talk about the fractal nature of this place: the two divergent world views we discovered in ourselves since January 2020. And, I need to ask everyone that, if they are going to get vaxxed or boosted, will they please tell those of us who are unvaxxed beforehand, so that we may up our supplements to ward of the spike protein danger? In other words, we’ll have to have that talk, finally, about the reality of “shedding.” As well as, I imagine, the apparent fraudulent nature of the PCR test for “covid.” )

My buddy and former five year house- and village-mate Dan the Man, who had wanted to walk with me and Shadow this morning, will instead bring over a quart of his wonderful homemade stew this afternoon.

Here’s a scene — I wish I wasn’t such a forever Catholic (recovering, but never fully), who must confess all — for you today. The four heavy, dusty boxes I feverishly dragged off my top closet shelves to the floor in the middle of the night, wondering if remedies in any of them are still viable . . . I do see several flu remedies. But expiry date 2016. Too old?

Will re-organize the boxes after I crash.

(No, tomorrow.)

I can feel it comin’ on . . . the crash . . . YES!

(Which only barely happened. See above.)

And thanks again, brilliant body, for the detoxifying fever . . . now appproaching 100.2°.

Time to stop. Lie down. Let go.

 

P.S. Housemate already asked me if I had any throat lozenges . . .

Rooting around . . .

YES!

P.P.S Late afternoon: fever still at 100.2°, despite three doses of the flu homeopathic that Colin brought home.. But headache is better. Gut acting up a bit. Shall I eat anything? Maybe just drink lemon water. Oh, and I just took a third dose of Ivermectin.

This whole experience is velly interestink!