A while ago, a young couple, looking for an apartment, was in the leasing office of our little community. They had a cute, 3-year-old with them.
I asked the little boy his name, and his father answered.
“I didn’t ask you,” I said. “I asked him.” (I know—pushy, pushy.)
Dad said, “He’s non-verbal.”
I knew immediately and asked, “Vaccine injured?”
(I had researched this topic in depth. I knew the signs.)
He is, and the family was moving here to Massachusetts to escape California. Dad and I discussed IEPs. I knew all about IEPs and the shenanigans engaged in by Special Ed Departments. I didn’t quite understand my emotional reaction until I walked back to my place.
When my eldest was two-years-old
I was standing in my kitchen from whence I had a complete view of the living-room area. He was a gorgeous baby: golden curls and amber eyes. But as I watched him, I knew something was seriously wrong. Two-years-old and bouncing off the walls. He was angry, aggressive, and extremely destructive. I said to myself: I’m in deep shit. (I mean–he was two!)
I have always, always blamed myself for the way he was. Navigating Special Ed for almost all of his school life was intolerable. I knew they blamed me for the way he acted. But I was driven to get Paul what he needed and never gave up. I shouldered the blame. It was my greatest reason for switching from an engineering degree to psychology.
I passed up an invitation to medical school (arranged by a professor) in order to help my son. I went to psychology class after psychology class after psychology class without ever finding an answer. Decades would go by before I stumbled on to this story.
I finally have my answer. Parents sharing their stories and videos; worthy, respectable scientists sharing real science; moral and ethical doctors standing up for the truth—gave me the answer I had sought for so long. You gave me some measure of peace.
I thank you.
Both my sons were injured by those damned shots; although, my youngest far less than my eldest. I had allowed my youngest’s last set of shots to be given when he was 4-years-old. Shortly after those shots, he experienced facial palsy. The left side of his face went dead. I brought him back to the doctor who had administered the shots, and he said, “Eh, it will either pass or it won’t.” I never went back to that doctor—he was so nonchalant. Did he know?
I would tape my son’s eyelid shut each night so he could sleep. It was an amazing relief when his smile slowly returned.
I recently told my youngest to cut his brother some slack—he was injured by those damned shots.
He said, “Is that why he’s the way he is?”
“Yes,” I said.
These kids never really recover if you rely on conventional medicine, and mine didn’t. My oldest is 44 now and was successful enough to become a pipe fitter. His reckless abandon in everything he does blew out his knees at the age of forty.
My youngest is in the trades, too, but he is often forlorn.
I believe I was erroneously diagnosed, years ago, with another autoimmune disease. I have ASIA—Autoimmune/Inflammatory Syndrome Induced by Adjuvants. An adjuvant is one of the many toxins in those shots you are told you must have to prevent death and/or damage. Apparently, for my family, these shots are extremely toxic. Some of us have a variant in our mitochondrial DNA that makes it very difficult to detoxify from the toxins in the shots. For us, the shots are deadly and/or damaging. Are those in the know aware of this? You tell me… There is no liability for these shots in my country. Companies producing the shots were given a pass decades ago by our government. They threatened to stop making them because they were being sued too much, and our president said, “We’ll help.” But if you think about it, if the product was so defective that it was killing and maiming people, we might have been better off without it. I know me and mine would have. I mourn what has happened to us every day.
And look-out—everything might be dubbed a shot soon (look at the arthritis shot)—no liability for any nasty deed that’s done to you. Two of the vaccines my sons received were taken off the market in the decade they were introduced. No one ever called me to find out if my sons were okay. It must have cost taxpayers around a million to educate my damaged sons.
I’ve lost my body; my children, and my life. How unconscionable is that? I had one go at this life, and any opportunity I might have had was stripped from me. This has happened to many others.
I would never have known if I hadn’t explored this topic. I’m very grateful for the info that’s now out there. But I still wonder if I will ever be able to forgive myself. I am, after all, the one who okayed the shots.