*If It’s From “COVID”*
I can’t go to the hospital and watch you die.
Correction. I won’t. I won’t go to the hospital and watch you die.
When the time comes, you may think I’m heartless. You may think I’m cruel. You may wonder why I’m not there. But it’s not because I don’t care. I just can’t be there. It would kill me. I cannot go through that again. I won’t go to the hospital and watch you die. At least, not under the false pretense of COVID or because you had a reaction to the vaccine or booster that I tried to warn you about. It’s not fair to expect me to go through that.
I had to watch my father die at the hospital, even though he knew the truth and didn’t want to be there. It was different, but still heartbreaking, standing outside his hospital room watching him die, knowing he didn’t want to be there in the first place. Knowing he only went to shut his kids up, to keep us from arguing. I didn’t get to be with my mom. She went so quickly – and just two weeks before dad. I wanted to be with my dad, even if glass doors were separating us. I had almost passed out because of all the protective gear earlier when I went in to say goodbye to and pray over him. I guess “COVID” is as dangerous as a nuclear weapon, at least according to the reception I received after I ran out of my dad’s room to get air with practically a hazmat suit still on. You’d have thought I was the second gunman on the grassy knoll. “STOP! STEPHANIE! STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW!!!!”
That is no way to be with someone when they are dying. Not being able to touch them, not being able to kiss them on the forehead, wondering if they even recognize you under the spacesuit you’re wearing. But being there under false pretenses – I cannot suffer through that again. And even worse, knowing it could’ve been prevented. I won’t go to the hospital again and watch you die when you’ve had every opportunity to learn the truth. You can’t hold me hostage like that. I won’t be held hostage like that. I won’t go to the hospital and watch you die. I won’t. I just won’t.
2022 is more than half over. I haven’t healed from 2021 yet, and it’s looking like the world is headed right back into lockdowns, just waiting to find out if it’ll be from COVID or Monkeypox. And just like before, I will not comply. I will not wear a face diaper. I will not shoot experimental poison into my body. I will not stop living my life. You can starve me. You can take my job. You DID take (some of) my family. You can kill me – but I’m not willing going down without a fight. The next time, whether it’s COVID or Monkeypox or…whatever manufactured crisis they come up with…just like before, I won’t be a part of it. And this time…I will be even more vocal.
I will no longer be playing along to get along. If I’m asked about the vaccine, my response will probably not be very kind. If somebody tells me they have COVID, I will only believe them if they can show me how the test differentiates between COVID and all its variants and the flu or anything else. No mercy this time. It is no longer my burden to carry, worrying that if a person gets sick, they might go straight to the hospital and essentially kill themselves with the hospital protocol designed to do exactly that (although something tells me the worry will not end).
So, if you want to believe in a government that knows nothing about you; if you want to continue being scared; if you want to continue believing the lies you have been told; if you want to keep injecting an unknown substance into your body believing that it will keep you healthy, even though it didn’t/hasn’t, that’s on you in the end. Nobody can accuse me of not trying to get the truth out. Nobody can accuse me of not caring. But it is time for me to get back to my life that I was so unfairly robbed of.
And in that life, I won’t go to the hospital and watch you die.