Category: Health

Clots

Health

I’m not talking about the socialists, I’m talking about this little event:

The Epoch Times is reporting that embalmers from around the nation are speaking out about strange blood clots they have been finding in the bodies of the deceased since around 2020 or 2021.
The clots are said to be white, fibrous, and rubbery and can be the size of a grain of sand or as long as a human leg. They can be as thick as a pinky finger. One embalmer claimed they can be “nearly the strength of steel.” Embalmers across the nation are contending that these clots are not normal.
Some bodies have so many clots that the embalmers are forced to drain blood from several points instead of just one. The embalming process takes roughly two hours but can take four hours if the bodies have a lot of clotting.
“Prior to 2020, 2021, we probably would see somewhere between 5 to 10 percent of the bodies that we would embalm having blood clots,” licensed embalmer Richard Hirschman told The Epoch Times. Today, Hirschman, who embalms in Alabama, claims that 50% to 70% of the bodies have clots.  “For me to embalm a body without any clots, kind of like how it was in the day, prior to all of this stuff, it’s rare,” Hirschman continued.  “The exception is to embalm a body without clots,” he added.

Mike Adams, who runs an accredited lab in Texas, tested one of the clots Hirschman discovered against blood from a living, unvaccinated person and found the clot was almost completely lacking in potassium, iron, magnesium, and zinc.
“Notice that the key elemental markers of human blood such as iron are missing in the clot,” Adams told The Epoch Times, referring to a chart of his findings. “Similar story with magnesium, potassium, and zinc. These are clear markers for human blood. Live human blood will always have high iron, or the person would be dead. These clots have almost no iron, nor magnesium, etc.”

And it’s not just in the U.S., as the article notes.

I know, I know… the immediate response would be to ascribe this to either the ‘Rona, or else to the “vaccines” that were foisted on us.  But as the article notes, the embalmers don’t know the vaccination status of the corpses, nor if they died of Covid.  But if ever there was a study that needs to be made, by a competent organization (i.e. not the CDC), then this would be it.

In the meantime, I’m going back to daily (as opposed to occasional) low-dose aspirin, just in case.

Just In Case You Were Wondering

Health

After two weeks of feeling like shit, worrying about Covid, pneumonia and all other things what could kill me, I finally took me off to an emergency care place and got an X-ray.
Diagnosis:  nothing serious.
What I have:  a bad case of bronchitis.
Treatment: Mucinex, also something to suppress the coughing spasms at night, lots of rest.

Yesterday was the first day of such treatment, and last night I slept for six solid hours before being woken up not by coughing, but by inhaling saliva in my sleep, i.e. just my body fucking with me like it usually does.

So far today, from 5am until this post, I’ve coughed about a dozen times (all “productive”), which was more like my half-hourly (dry) rate beforehand.

Am I getting better?  Let’s just say I’m cautiously optimistic.  So unless you hear differently from me, assume the latter.

Final Update, I Promise

Plagues and Poxes

Annnnnnndddd:  it’s not COVID.

Seriously.  Last night I got the news from the Doctor’s Hottie that my ‘Rona test had come back negative. And so much for that.

What I actually have — WE THINK — is a simple, nonspecific upper-respiratory tract infection, so today I start a  Zithromax “Z-pak” treatment regimen which as explained to me is like shooting fish with a scattergun in that the drug targets “infections of the lungs, sinus, throat, tonsils, skin, urinary tract, cervix, or genitals.”

If we exclude “skin, urinary tract, cervix, or genitals” for obvious reasons (none of those bits hurt, or I don’t have them), that means that this little pink pill should address my sore throat, congested lungs and full-to-bursting sinuses, and about damn time.

And I’ve had that pennies-in-the-mouth taste over the past three days for nothing.

And I’ve also been feeling shitty for the past week for nothing — without the ever-popular COVID blocking the national consciousness, this would probably have been properly diagnosed on Day 1 had I said to the doctor — as I’d said to New Wife — that I’ve been dealing with this shit for most of my damn life.

Posts have been set up for the weekend (normal fare, btw), so I’ll see y’all on Monday.

Goddamn and fuck.

Closeup view of my throat, this morning:

Better Sleep Through Medicine And Willpower

Health

I should mention that even before I got the “No-COVID” news last night, I’d been feeling better.

Not because of the anti-‘Rona drugs, of course, but because in a rare moment of clarity, I worked out that over the past six nights, I’d had maybe half an hour’s uninterrupted sleep per night because the fucking painful continuous coughing was waking me up.

So I put on my Big Boy Slippers and slouched over to the medicine cabinet right after New Wife left for work.

How, I asked myself, was I going to put myself into a deep sleep without resorting to extreme measures?

Three simple ingredients came to mind:

  • Robitussin.  My old friend “Robi” has always worked for me in the past
  • Max Strength Tylenol.  Another old friend
  • Willpower (which I’ll explain in a moment).

Dosages:  1 British Standard Mouthful of Robitussin (none of that stupid little cup thing they stick on the bottle).  1 BSM, based on my drinking experience with 6X ale, works out to about a quarter of an Imperial pint.  3 Tylenol tablets (1500mg of acetaminophen, according to the bottle)

…which leaves us with the all-important ingredient, willpower.

In my case, this involves not fighting off sleep, but actively pursuing it.  (Anyone who’s done military service knows what I’m talking about here:  you grab sleep whenever you can get it.)  But the second facet of willpower is to refuse to let whatever happens while you’re sleeping cause you to open your eyes.  So a coughing fit?  recognize and ignore the pain.  Dog licking your face?  punch and go back to sleep.  Thirst?  fuck that; deal with it later.  Blowjob?  push her away roughly.  (This last did not work so well when I was younger, admittedly.)

But you get the idea.

So I popped the Tylenol, washed them down with a huge slug of Robi, lay down on the living-room sofa with but a stadium rug for cover (didn’t want to bring heat / cold into the equation), and closed my eyes.

I woke up over seven hours later, feeling so much better that I sat up suddenly.  That was a mistake, and when I sat up again, more slowly, I spent about five minutes coughing phlegm up — and felt really much better, despite the pain in my throat.

I was even able to throw some posts together for today and the weekend, which I had not had the energy to do earlier in the week.

Let’s see how it goes from here.

Update On Health Update

Health, Plagues and Poxes

I have the ‘Rona:  “Breakthrough”, or whatever they’ve labeled Covid-19 v8.65.

It is, to put it politely, a motherfucker:  far worse than the variant I had last December.

As I told you I thought I’d turned the corner and started having what doctors euphemistically call “productive” coughs:  great mouthfuls of phlegm dredged out of my lungs.

False alarm.  So I went off to our family GP, Doctor Shit-For-Brains (not his real name), who tested me for strep (what I thought I had) and when that came back negative, sent the Holy Q-Tip off for a complex ‘Rona test, but said, “If I was sitting at the casino table and had to put money on ‘Rona vs. some other thing, it would all go on ‘Rona.”

So I’ve started taking the new wunderkind stuff, Paxlovid, but all it handles is the virus itself.  The razor blades in the throat when I swallow, the coughing which brings up pieces of liver never mind lung, etc. — all these have to be addressed by the Usual Suspects.

I have no voice.  When (if) I survive this shit, remind me to tell you the story of getting my Paxlovid at Shit-For-Brains II (a.k.a our various local drug stores), which is a tale to make strong men weep.

Oh, and did I tell you that one charming side-effect of Paxlovid is that your mouth tastes as though you’ve been sucking on dimes and pennies for the past month?

Worse yet, I have absolutely no energy or desire to do anything.

I will post a brief thing each morning just to reassure you that I’m still alive, but that’s about it.

Wish me luck.