David Icke / Roger Mallett
Caroline Pover is the author of The Covid Vaccine Adverse Reaction Survival Guide (available from Amazon and www.carolinepover.com). The book is also available through www.ukcvfamily.org, a support group for the vaccine-injured in the UK (sales through UKCVFamily generate income to help keep the support group going). The following text is from a speech Caroline gave at the Better Way Conference in Bath on May 21, 2022.
I’M going to make some of you feel uncomfortable.
Having spent the past fourteen months living as a vaccine-injured person, I’m used to making most people very uncomfortable.
I make people uncomfortable because I talk about what happened to me – I am very open about the forty-something symptoms that started exactly nine hours after a single dose of AstraZeneca.
Most of the time I don’t even need to tell people what exactly happened. Just the words, ‘I’ve been diagnosed with an adverse reaction to a Covid vaccine,’ are enough to bring all sorts of unexpected responses.
These are my favourites …
‘Your dog just died … it must be grief. Are you going to get another one?’
‘It’s probably menopause. Have you tried HRT?’
‘Sounds like Seasonal Affective Disorder. Just wait until the sun comes out.’
And in response to multiple signs of kidney failure, I was told: ‘Stop watching the news. Book a massage.’
That last bit of advice was from NHS 111.
I didn’t book a massage. I booked an appointment with my vet. To test my urine. Which did indeed confirm signs of kidney failure.
But it wasn’t those responses that baffled me – in their own ways, each of those people were looking for reasons and were trying to provide solutions.
The responses that baffle me – and I still get them – are the ones like, ‘Oh, I’m triple jabbed and I’m fine.’
We do not respond in that way to any other health condition, or any other trauma. If somebody confides in us that they have had a miscarriage, we do not say, ‘Oh, I’ve got three healthy children,’ or if someone tells us about the domestic abuse they’re living with, we do not say, ‘Oh, my partner is wonderful. So kind and gentle.’
No decent person considers it appropriate to respond to another person’s pain by telling them about their own joy. But it seems to be OK if you’re talking to someone with a vaccine injury.
The vaccine-injured do not find compassion when we first try to talk to people about our pain.
So we learn to keep quiet, thinking that nobody understands or cares enough to even try, until we discover a different community of people. Or they discover us. People who want to hear our stories.
They want to hear our stories so much that they dedicate platforms to sharing them. Those platforms make compelling reading or viewing. There’s story after story collected by people who say they want to give us a voice yet don’t think about how gently we need to be held as we speak.