Your little moving notes

How to say the unspeakable, how to tell this suffering…

Today, this February 12, 2022, already a month that your heart, this heart so loving, so warm, has stopped beating… tired of suffering from/for all this bad news, exhausted by your back broken by the recording of the misery of the peoples, destroyed by the (so little) masked monsters of the world that they impose on us…

Writing this text is like recognizing this inescapable fact… that I cannot yet, now and forever, accept…

But I want to testify to the undignified way in which you were treated on December 24, 2021 during your admission to the Delta-Chirec hospital in Brussels and that you told me, traumatized, the next day, Christmas Day!

As soon as you entered the emergency room, none of your loved ones were able to reach you, comfort you, or support you in these moments of intense stress. Again dehumanization. How can a doctor worthy of the name imagine treating people correctly under these conditions?

You came in at noon and stayed without care, without drinking, without eating, until the evening when you finally arrived in a proper room at 10pm! Ten hours of abandonment of someone, announced in the emergency room by his doctor as infected with the virus, not responding enough to the antibiotic azithromycin and needing to have a blood test with a quick analysis, impossible in a lab on Christmas Eve, for a quick adaptation of treatment!!!
Even though the attending physician had warned you that you were « covidated », you were forced to undergo a useless PCR test, since they already « knew », and you sat on a chair for 4 hours in a garage with a small testing tent at the back. The three other people waiting at the same time as you were not so lucky: they were sitting on the ground, on the concrete. And this service was in no way « overloaded », I can testify to that: during the four hours I spent in the reception room waiting to hear from you, I could see that no one, and I mean no one, had added themselves!
Curious way to treat someone who was sick, shivering with temperature and who had to have a quick blood test!

Here is what you wrote on 30/12 (then in the otherwise welcoming hospital of Ixelles!) on your small daily notes so upsetting:

I think back to Delta: entrance in a dry garage, waiting 4 hours in front of a tent; three people sitting on the ground on the bare floor (Concrete?), then 1/2 hour in a box; now I am in a service room, fortunately there is fresh air…

The day after your arrival, you will see the doctor in charge of the unit, Dr. M. M. M., who will be in charge of the hospital. Ceulemans that shamefully attacks and destabilizes you.

Did he know if I was vaccinated?
« It’s because of people like you that everyone is sick.« 
It’s not true and it’s not good for the reception…
The next day, I returned: « Your condition is very bad. If it gets worse, do you agree to be handed over to the machines? If not, we can leave you alone to die, but I need to know. »
« I will not respond without my doctor’s advice »
« I’m the one who decides here, not your doctor…« 
I suffer too much psychologically.
I love you…

And finally, on 12/27/21 you write on the menu papers that you will keep carefully:

Finally I received a bic. What a pleasure to write when you can’t hear anything [because of the gurgling of the respirator, horrible]. There remains the problem of the glasses… with the mask.
What happiness to see my Doctor B. after the visit of this animal [de Ceulemans].
I am paralyzed.
I take advantage of the meal without mask to write.
My respirator is called « Wycom »: « old fart »!

On December 27, Matthew places a bottle of wine in front of the « forbidden entrance » of the Covid unit. He talks to you on the mobile phone and can then see you from the street, greeting you with a bottle in his hand behind the window of your room-prison, as in the closed centers of Steenokerzeel… And we do not find this degrading, revolting, inhuman!

What a good wine, another glass or two…
Too bad about the phone, but so frustrating, all the time yelling, all the time repeating, I’m not understood [avec le bruit de l’oxygène].
I’ll have to put the mask back on.
I managed to slip my glasses into the mask; I hope it works…

On the 28/12, nobody can still see you. Only the cell phone allows a difficult, frustrating but essential contact:

This disease is not just numbers that multinationals have enjoyed, but above all it is a nasty disease, we forget. On the other hand, long live the telephone, a miraculous support even in the most difficult moments, when you can’t see your lovedones…
9h30. I was weighed… 69 kilos. What a stress.
Physiotherapy visit.
There was a lot of quibbling with the respirators… waste of time between […] lungs.
How lonely… I love you.

How lonely.
I take advantage of being without a mask to write.
Solange (a nurse or caregiver?) is very nice.
Rachel, Antoine, Matthieu called.
[Cet oxygène] it’s like a helicopter that starts all the time…

Confronted with this mental destruction that you undergo, and in agreement with your doctor, who comes to see you and makes sure that you can do it, we demand an exit, which immediately restores a little morale… On 29/12 at 11 am we come to take you, me and your son Michael. You leave the Delta Chirec hospital without anyone to make sure you don’t contaminate the hospital and the world. The wheelchair that we took at the entrance will be put back without being disinfected, proof if any were needed that all these so-called sanitary but above all liberticidal gesticulations are nothing but incoherence and absurdities. You go home and write:

I was in darkness.
I found the light again, even if it rains a lot.
I look at the walls to make sure I’m home…

And you remember:

In Delta, after a meal I hadn’t touched, Ceulemans: « This is bad. After his intimidation I wanted to ask my wife and my doctor for advice: « Sir, you are the only one in charge of your health, you don’t need anyone else, you have to decide about your health ».

This is cynical, to say the least, when everything has been organized for the past two years to kidnap our health and offer it on a silver, gold and diamond platter to Bill Gates, Black Rock, Big Pharma and others…

Unfortunately, after one night you need more oxygen than the home machines give and you have to go back to the hospital, but this time to Ixelles, where the reception is totally different. The warm atmosphere and the care you receive with kindness lead you slowly to recovery, and to a necessary revalidation to regain strength.

On January 12th at 11am your notes stop.
At 1:30 pm I call you to wish you a good nap and to tell you that I am inquiring this afternoon for the revalidation.
At 3pm I contact Dr. DV. who tells me, « Your husband had a cardiac arrest, 40 minutes of cardiac massage, we could not resuscitate him… ».
On the death certificate: 14:55.

I accuse this inhuman world of killing you.
I accuse the Delta-Chirec hospital of negligence and Dr. B. B. B. of being a member of the Board of Directors. Ceulemans of criminal psychological abuse.
I accuse the medical profession (apart from a few noble exceptions that they stigmatize and try to prevent from working) of having betrayed by cowardice and stupidity their profession and abandoned their patients.
I accuse the government and the politicians in the pay of the multinationals, financiers and Big Pharma, and above all the media-propaganda of having transformed by fear a people into herds of mammal-zombies, blind, haggard, rushing into the abyss.

All responsible for your death and those of thousands of men and women who could and should be treated differently.

They will all have to face their responsibilities and be accountable.
Now that the people are waking up, it is not by becoming more and more violent, by unleashing their guard dogs, their drones and their auto-pumps that they will be able to escape justice.
They know that we will not forget and that their days are numbered.

I love you. 

Your wife.