Victoria S. Hardy

Victoria S. Hardy

Sunday, August 15, 2021

I Do Not Consent


I’ve spent the last fifteen years stepping away from medical practice, sick, scarred, and in daily, constant and changing, pain, I said screw it, enough is enough. I was tired of being poked, tested, and drained by the medical experts, who always had multiple vague answers and lots of pills and surgery. Medical “care” had left me at death’s door, mildly schizophrenic, suicidal, fat, weak, dependent, broken, and scared. And it dawned on me when my doctor wanted to do more, and more frequent, tests on my colon, suspecting (or perhaps praying for) cancer, that they were going to kill me. 


It dawned on me in a complete moment of clarity that it was insane to give any person so much control over my life. It was insane that I allowed any person who I spent mere minutes a year with to instill such fear and sickness in me. It was insane that I was listening to people I don’t know, and I was only getting sicker and weaker, and still going back for more. Doctors are human beings who spent a lot of time in school, and they are human beings with the same issues as everyone else. Going to medical school does not make one a saint or a genius, and it was all ridiculously insane how much control I had given them over my life and my health.


I spent my years from birth up to age forty-one listening to doctors, I took the pills they prescribed me, had the surgeries they recommended, and frankly, always felt poorly. Being born with a birth defect I encountered surgical intervention at an early age. I spent a lot of time with doctors over the years, had a lot of surgeries, a couple horrific and debilitating, and my son developed a neurological disorder at 9 years old that required surgical intervention many, many, times. So many surgeries, and some in such quick succession, that I literally lost count. Through the years I have seen the best of doctors, and the absolute worst.


In our society we tend to idolize our medical providers, and that comes from a lot of television programming. Exactly how many medical dramas, soaps, and comedies have there been over the years since everyone put a flashing box in their homes? And how many were on radio before that? They are the miracle workers and heroes that we all respect, when they talk, we listen. And some doctors truly are miracle workers and heroes, but they are few and far in between, and the system is set up to weed them out. 


The truth is that pharmaceutical drugs, and medical “care” are the second and third cause of death in this country, and literally hundreds of thousands of people die every year due to their direct influence in our lives. Medicine is a business, a multi-billion dollar business, and buyer beware.


We have been trained, programmed, to believe that doctors are benevolent. We are trained, programmed, to ignore the giant corporate machine that doesn’t make money if we are healthy. We are trained, programmed, to be sick, to ask our doctor before we do anything, to think and worry about our health continuously. We are trained, programmed, to believe that a stranger in a white coat knows more about our body than we do, and we allow them to commit almost any atrocity on our person in the name of good health.


It is my belief that doctors are wonderful in emergency situations - broken bones, car wrecks, head injuries - yes, you need a doctor, but in that moment of clarity I decided to remove the middle manager between me and my health.


It wasn’t easy as I wasn’t starting from a fresh slate, and I was injured. I could even say I had been brutalized by a surgical mistake for which no one was liable as I had signed my rights away listening to medical advice, so I had to figure out my healing and recovery on my own. And it has been a long, hard, journey to bring myself back to health.


Not only have I gotten the pharmaceuticals out of my life, I removed fast and processed food, sodas, alcohol, fluoride, MSG, dyes, harsh cleaning supplies, and toxic soaps, lotions, and cosmetics. I cook from scratch everyday, and have removed most unhealthy carbohydrates, breads, white potatoes, chips, cereals, etc. And I started researching things for myself, and experimenting on myself. As I had been letting the medical establishments practice on me my entire life, I found I was a much better doctor to me than they had been.


Stepping away from the scheduled routines of medical poking and prodding changes your perception of those events. I didn’t realize the power the medical community held over me until I was so ill by their mistakes that I couldn’t even get out of bed and go to the bathroom, tubes and bags carried my waste away, and the only movement I could make without excruciating pain was turning my head.  I have never been as weak, sick, and broken as when I put my health into the hands of another, and I shudder to recall giving my strength and power away.


I learned my lesson, though, and I stay away from medical “care”, but now I am being told that I have to accept medical practices in my life, and in my body. I have to take their drugs due to a virus with a 99.5% recovery rate, I have to take their drugs in my blood despite the fact that I have had the virus, recovered, and am now more protected than the shot takers.


I am being threatened that if I don’t partake of their medical sorceries (aborted fetal RNA and chimpanzee adenovirus, to list a couple ingredients) then I may not be able to travel or as some have suggested, go to the supermarket. I am being told that I am ignorant and dangerous, and that I do not understand the science of being healthy.


Well, I do not consent. I’ve worked too hard on my health to become a guinea pig for Big Pharma. I do not consent to a witch’s brew of dead babies and monkey shit (*tips hat to an acquaintance) as well as other unknown agents and chemicals to be injected into my blood. I do not consent because I have seen first hand the damage the medical mafia can do to the body, and I keep a delicate balance after the injuries I have overcome.


I do not consent to allow man (and the world) to come between my spirit, my health, my mind, and me. I do not consent because this body is mine, and mine alone, and as a survivor of sexual abuse it took me a long time to reclaim my body, and I won’t now be needle raped by some perceived authority figure. I do not consent to going backward.


I do not consent because I am made in the image of God, and I am not going to trust man to begin making alterations to that creation. I do not consent because we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. 


I do not consent because in the last fifteen years I have grown to see the pharmaceutical makers as witches standing around a cauldron, tossing in the strangest, and most disgusting, ingredients. When I discovered that the sorcery the Bible warned us to avoid comes from the root word pharmakeia I was not really surprised. And reading this passage in Revelation makes a lot more sense to me now than it did in the past: “And the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries (phamakeia - Strong’s concordance #G5331) were all nations deceived.”


I do not consent because I place my faith in God, not man.