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The cure for all venereal disease, brought to you by…Jim Bakker, who else? One might enquire just what good christians might need with such a cure, but I doubt any sort of answer would ensue. By the way, silver is not a cure for fucking anything, particularly not venereal disease. It’s of no more use than mercury used to be, so don’t even think about it.
“It’s a miracle in a tube”: Jim Bakker is now selling a “silver gel” that he claims “gets rid of all venereal diseases.” pic.twitter.com/juUgu2Zn82
— Right Wing Watch (@RightWingWatch) June 22, 2018
From Jim’s scamsite:
Silver Solution Gel
Silver Solution Gel (24ppm) works faster, longer and more efficiently than other silvers to promote natural healing.
- Faster – By using catalytic instead of chemical action, Silver helps speed up natural processes that have positive effects on the body.
- Longer – Unlike other silvers that quit working after completing one function, Silver performs over and over for hours.
- More Efficiently – By resonating at just the right frequency, Silver disrupts foreign elements without disturbing the body’s natural environment.
Silver Solution Gel provides soothing action for the skin and can be applied as needed. This four-ounce tube is perfect for toting in your purse or stowing in your desk drawer, glove box or medicine cabinet.
NO. No, no, no, to all that shit. Not so, not true, bullshit all the way. I do note that good ol’ Jim doesn’t personally believe in all these amazing benefits from silver, as he hasn’t turned even a light shade of gray-blue, [argyria] which is what taking colloidal silver will do to you eventually, and it’s permanent. It’s not any nice shade of blue, either. It’s barely blue, more a decayed corpse colour.
This ^ is for Chigau – I already have the daisies!
Today is the first day I have not had to be in town all bloody day. Hospital, Cancer Center, Hospital, Pain Clinic. I have a host of new meds, some for the sciatica, which are helping, but basically, the most helpful thing there is rest, which I won’t be getting much of at all. I have been cleared for radiation & oral chemo. I picked up most of my oral chemo meds; the experimental drug I pick up on Tuesday, when I start radiation. The schedule is going to get crazy fast: I have to be in town Monday through Friday for the next five weeks. Blogging might get a tad erratic, to say the least. Rick and I will be staying in town on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.
There is some very good news: my tumor markers have gone from 11.9 to 3.6. Yay me. I wish to hell I could skip radiation. This week, I had my ‘cradle’ molded and fitted. Before you start radiation, you’re placed in the scanner, with a sort of plastic bag under you from your waist to past your feet. The edges are filled like a bean bag, and the technicians roll and mold this all around you, then the air is sucked out, and it forms a hard plastic mold. You lay down in this cradle each time you’re there for treatment. If you choose to have this done with shoes on, you have to wear the same shoes every time. I also had my tats done, not at all like an actual one. Picked up Aquaphor for burns and other relevant stuff.
Met my new oncologist, a very cheerful and enthusiastic person. We quite like them. I’ll probably have to be spending a bit of time in a wheelchair when in town, all the walking involved won’t do the sciatica any good. Oh, that’s right, I have all this paperwork I have to go through and start filling out a ‘pill count’ diary for the oral chemo and experimental; christ, I almost forgot all about that. My research person and I had a good moan about how pointless this type of paperwork is; I could be giving the pills to my dog and still fill out the paperwork like I was taking them and all, but this is going to be “drown yourself in paper” time. I also have to remember to take the experimental drug with me every other week, so a pill count can be done. Again, pointless.
Now, I’ll try and get a bit of blogging done!
I will be completely gone tomorrow, too. And possibly Wednesday. So, so sorry! Many tests. Sigh.
ℑ floats towards unconsciousness thinking of DAISIES and HOT DOGS and VALIANT BEETLES ℑ
Holy fuck am I ever spaced…thank you all so much. Back when I can, so sorry.
A little while ago, I decided I needed a break from Thorns, a sort of sorbet for the brain. As it turns out, a good decision – I need something to focus on without investment because I have been a wretched heap of misery since Thursday morning. Upon waking Thursday, I discovered I couldn’t walk. My left leg went out from under me, accompanied by a scream. Trying again, I could sort of lurch if I took teensy tiny partial steps. The primary pain was to the side and down from my kneecap (outside of leg), a site well known to me, as it’s long been a sensitive one. That’s where the sciatic nerve splits off into the tibial and peroneal nerves. Standing, with no weight on the leg at all, the pain radiated down to my ankle, which was slightly swollen along with my foot, and radiated up the back of my thigh to my arse. Oh good, my sciatic nerve is on a fucking rampage. (Yes, I still went out that night to get shots of the storm, lurching and limping and dragging myself, with the aid of morphine.) Anyone who has ever dealt with sciatic pain, you know what I’m talking about, painwise. People infected with the photography bug know you have to be at least 15/16ths dead before you miss a possible once in a lifetime shot.
The last time I had sciatica, it lasted most of a year. I am just so fucked. The pain has been very near to insanity levels. There has been much yelling, a fair amount of screaming, and a lot of collapsing into a pile of sobs. Thanks to chemo brain, it wasn’t until Friday night that I did what I should have done immediately on Thursday morning – take aspirin. The aspirin helped much more than the morphine, helping to deal with the inflammation. It’s not helping as much now, but hey, at this point, I’ll take what I can get. I did have to fucking crawl into the lav on Thursday morning though, so I was bit preoccupied. Of course, another storm hit, and the circuit breaker which controls my studio lights keeps flipping off every hour or so. That means…stairs. Interesting to navigate when you can’t bend one knee without screaming. The breaker just went again. Fuck it, I’ll get it in the morning. Apparently, the pain and humiliation of the last four days wasn’t quite enough, as I have been called back into Cancerland early. My oncologist (first one) insisted I meet again with Cole (radiation doc) tomorrow (Monday the 18th). Just what I need, a nice long car ride to irritate the holy fuck outta my sciatic nerve. Ought to be fun. I suppose I’ll be getting my tats tomorrow.
Poor Jayne, he’s about a wreck, not knowing what to do with this screaming one second, racked with sobs the next person who appears to have eaten his regular person alive. Thanks to the confluence of morphine and aspirin, I can get 2 hours or so mostly pain free a day, but mornings are a nightmare, because after sleeping, I’m right back to where I was on Thursday morn. This is one situation where I’m truly thankful to be an atheist. To think or say to myself: the universe is pissed I didn’t take the hint and die, so it’s going to keep dropping big-ass bricks on my head is obviously sillier than fuck, and can be dismissed as a pity party moment. If I believed in a god though: god is pissed I didn’t take the hint and die, so he’s going to keep dropping big-ass bricks on my head, I think I would be in a very bad and dangerous place which would lead to very bad decisions, like stopping treatment and placing myself in “god’s hands”, going the “god’s will” route.
It’s now time to stop faking it (puttin’ on that brave face). I’m becoming increasingly fearful of showering, scared I’m gonna fall and kill myself in there. Think it might be time for some accessories in there, or at least a plastic chair I can sit on, or fall back on. Ah well, time to face the shower. Anyroad, I will be taking Monday the 18th completely off, I didn’t have time to schedule anything, either. Going to sleep as long as possible, take much aspirin and morphine, wrap myself in pillows, and try to get through the day without breaking the fuck down, and I’ve felt much too close to a breakdown the last few days. As far as I know right now, I’ll be back to Affinity sometime Tuesday. I know my blogging has been on the shitty side lately, really sorry about this, I’ll make it up to you all.
Click for full size. As you can see, all effort was put into making Joanna Southcott as awful as possible. Ms. Southcott was a self-styled prophetess, and claimed to be pregnant at 64 years of age, and died shortly afterward. It would seem she was held to be nothing more than a con by the medical establishment, with little consideration that she might actually believe all the nonsense she preached. The depiction of her is certainly nothing at all like her actual appearance (there’s a photo at the link.)