There are certain contingents out there who are no doubt jealous of the unique situation I’ve found myself in. Those who would kill to be able to un-vaccinate themselves, or their autistic children.
It seems almost serendipitous that my eight-year-old son should be given a chance like this. Really, how many third graders do you know who’ve been able to rid themselves of all their childhood immunizations in one fell swoop? Sure, my son had to undergo a bone marrow transplant to get here, which wasn’t great, but at least there’s a silver lining.
He’s free from all those toxins his mama let the doctors put in his body when she didn’t know any better. All those god-knows-what poisons and heavy metals and nanobots and aborted fetal cells they claim we need to stay alive even though our ancestors survived without them—and probably fared better as well.
Good riddance, DTaP, HepB, MMR, IPV. All erased from my son’s body now, his immune system reborn as a blank slate. Tabula rasa, pure and shiny and new. No longer a play thing for the CDC and the global elite.
Though I really wish he’d stop coughing.
We eat at Steak n Shake and I tell him all about Vitamin A and cod liver oil, the things Big Pharma doesn’t want us to know about. He had no idea that measles actually protects him from cancer, and that the shots he’s been led to believe keep him safe actually cause eczema, brain damage, and in some cases, lifelong diarrhea.
He doesn’t want lifelong diarrhea, he’s adamant.
“I don’t either,” I tell him, and then we eat our brave fries that are helping America get its balls back. He manages to keep a few of them down in spite of a pesky mucus problem he’s been having, which kind of gets in the way and is generally gross, but nothing colloidal silver can’t fix. I have to keep reminding him that that medication the doctor highlighted in red is just a formality, a bonus for the doctor, kinda like when a store offers you a $20 credit any time you refer a friend.
“So I don’t need those pills? He just wanted money?”
“Pretty much!” I say.
My son’s medical team is, predictably, horrified by my personal choice. I told them all about the families destroyed by vaccines, the gut-wrenching stories of kids suddenly becoming extremely difficult for their parents after the MMR vaccine, like entirely different children, or refusing to eat and crying a lot. Suddenly not liking their favorite foods anymore.
“Have you ever seen a child die from encephalitis?” they said.
And I was honest, I said no, but by that same token, had they ever heard of diluted oil of oregano? Fortified garlic extract? Detox baths?
I know I shouldn’t waste my breath. Our fear is their lifeblood, the doctors. From now on I’ll just keep my mouth shut. I even consulted my fellow like-minded moms and they had some sage advice: “Just lie about your son’s vax status because if you don’t you’ll be persecuted. Tell the doctors you lost his records in a flood. Your basement flooded.”
I figure that makes the most sense. A flood or a fire. It’s no one’s business anyway whether or not my son’s memory B cells are familiar with today’s ever-growing list of illnesses. I mean, geez, isn’t that a HIPPA violation?
And what’s with all the hysteria nowadays anyway? Are we supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence the legacy media started shouting about a supposed measles outbreak at exactly the same time Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was confirmed?
I, for one, can see the writing on the wall. It says you’re all sheep who can’t think for themselves and you’ll be the first to go. In the event of an apocalypse, I mean. Besides, you’re as good as dead anyways and I don’t want your microchipped kids near my kid. So don’t abuse me just for asking questions. It’s not my problem the rest of you have a tenuous relationship with critical thought.
There are scarier things than germs, you know. Like smiling men in white lab coats eager to pocket $40,000 a jab. Except it comes with a side of a tracking device and quite possibly reptilian DNA.
Free thinkers used to be idolized, I tell my son, and now they’re forced onto Rumble and only occasionally brought out on Fox News. But they’re still the chosen few. He nods enthusiastically through coughing fits and even through the redness in his face and all the gasping, I can tell he’s inspired.
Allison Quinn is a former news editor for The Daily Beast who is currently documenting her son’s battle against a rare and deadly genetic disease called adrenoleukodystrophy. She does not actually believe it is a blessing to be rid of childhood immunizations, nor does she believe measles protects against cancer and other anti-vax bunk.
