Chapter 2
I was free, and for the time being that was the only thing that mattered. My mind would be cloudy for weeks, as they
were administering the psychotropic drugs on the day I left and even sent a prescription for (with a dozen or so others)
Seroquel, the one that seemed have the most pronounced lobotomizing effect. All the prescriptions were filled but my
sisters did not have me take the Seroquel. More food for the beast.
Even with the end of the psychotropic drugs I would remain mentally debilitated for some time. Seroquel is one of
the more notorious causes, not that it is admitted by the industry. For days I was nearly as helpless as I had been
as I walked, if you can call it that, the short distance from the doors of the hospital to the waiting car. Without
assistance I could not get in or out of the car or to the door of the house. For days the short distance from my
room to the living area of the house taxed my ability.
And my ordeal with the beast was by no means over. I was only outside the belly.
I had an appointment with the cardiologist a couple of weeks later. The cardiologist pronounced me healthy as fas
as my heart was concerned. He was an older guy, and at this point the Plandemic was nearing is peak, in terms of
the mass psychosis and masks were required at any medical industry facility. I wore my mask until called into the
private examination at which point the doctor removed his and invited me to do the same, with an expression that
suggested he was disgusted with the whole charade. Sadly, he was one of the old ones, and a few weeks later I received
a letter advising his patients that he was retiring.
So that was that, Hospital B did succeed in saving my life, at a cost of several hundred thousand dollars (I saw one
bill for over $260,000). Of course Hospital B was billing the insurance company over $200,000 for two weeks, and being
paid half that (discounted to half, what does that say about the industry?) so I would guess that their share of the loot
was well over a million.
There was still the matter of the feeding tube. As i observed it had not been used during the final two weeks or so,
and should have been removed. The telemetry module was there as well, serving no purpose, but removing it was not a
medical procedure. Removing the feeding tube would require a qualified nurse.
I made an appointment with a clinic, part of Hospital B, and repaired to the clinic at the appointed time. The nurse
advised me that the site of the insertion was infected and removal could be painful, but an application of antibiotics
for two weeks would mitigate the infection. I left with a prescription for the antibiotics and returned. Which is to
say my caregivers drove the forty-something miles each way. The little scavengers took a few more bites.
Two weeks later we made the trip again, and the tube was removed. I should be thankful for small blessings.
When the tube was replaced a balloon was used to hold it, instead of the mechanical device. And the infection abated,
so it was quite painless.
I suspect that the tube had been left in as much for spite as anything else. The hospital (apparently) did not have a
qualified person, but could as easily have sent me back to Hospital A, giving them another bite, along with the ambulance
operator. But either way it was one final parting blow.