Stew Peters & Karen Kingston- The Truth about Wuhan – https://rumble.com/v20ubuq-the-truth-about-wuhan-us-funded-virus-research-fauci-and-ecohealth-alliance.html
Story of lupus disease below..
- When I was in high school, I got a rash on my arm that I initially thought was a bug bite.
- Nothing we tried to treat it worked, and then it started to spread.
- It took two years and 10 doctors to figure out that I had lupus.
I remember the exact moment my life as a “healthy” child completely changed; it happened right after the summer of 2011. That summer was the last time I felt normal in my skin — then the rashes appeared.
It was a few months into my freshman year of high school, I noticed small, red rings forming on my right arm. My family initially thought a bug had bitten me, so we tried ointments like calamine lotion to stop the itching.
When these ointments didn’t work, we began to Google terms like “red rings on the skin“ to figure out what was wrong with me.
Over the next few weeks, the once-small rings grew significantly and began to connect like a puzzle on my forearm. Nothing was working, and not only were these ringworm-like rashes an eyesore, they were also tender to the touch. My frustration and worry grew; my family and I had no idea how to ease my growing pain.
The 2-year search for the cure begins
After trying several over-the-counter treatments, my rashes weren’t clearing up. We were now beyond the limits of what we could do on our own, so my mother took me to my pediatrician to get a doctor’s perspective.
During that appointment, my mother and I shared the story of how the rash appeared out of nowhere and was causing me great pain and discomfort.
The pediatrician examined my arm, eventually diagnosed me with ringworm, and sent me off with a prescription. Unfortunately, I still didn’t see any results or feel any relief after taking this medication for a few weeks.
When we visited my pediatrician for a follow-up about a month later, we told her that not only was the medication not clearing the rashes, they were spreading to other parts of my body.
After hearing my story and examining my skin, she sent me to a local dermatologist for further evaluation. At that point, I didn’t know that it would take two more grueling and tiresome years, plus countless appointments with 10 healthcare providers to understand what was happening to me.
My first visit with a dermatologist was the start of two years of appointments and frustration
I remember my first visit to the dermatologist with my mother. He was an older gentleman in a private office that looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the 1970s.
It had been about four or five months since the rashes appeared. As the dermatologist examined my arm and face — which had now developed rashes, as well — he concluded that I had granuloma annulare, a skin condition that causes raised rashes or bumps that form a ring-like pattern across the body. The cause of this condition is unknown.
By this time, my self-confidence had nearly vanished entirely. I wore the same black hoodie to school every day and refused to take it off even if I was hot. I started buying concealer and foundation to cover the rashes across my face.
The corticosteroid creams my dermatologist prescribed to treat them still weren’t working; it seemed the diagnosis was incorrect.
The rashes worsened and spread to my chest, legs, and feet. Not only had the rashes taken my self-confidence, I was also beginning to feel depressed. With every new diagnosis, I was given this false hope that I’d return to “normal.” But when treatments didn’t work, I’d be sent two steps back, feeling more defeated each time.
Like my pediatrician, the dermatologist was entirely out of answers and referred me to another dermatologist based in Birmingham, Alabama — a 1½-hour drive from my hometown.
After seeing this second dermatologist in Birmingham for six months, she also came up empty-handed. She’d requested a facial biopsy a few months into our regular follow-ups, but that didn’t reveal a diagnosis either.
Unfortunately, the procedure, done by a plastic surgeon, left a scar on my forehead; to this day, it reminds me of the emotional and physical trauma I dealt with during this time. Her last recommendation was for me to meet with a team of medical specialists.
I finally got a diagnosis, but not before an appointment that left me feeling like an exhibition in a museum
Every so often, specialists from the Birmingham area would come to the clinic to visit dermatology patients with unknown conditions. All the patients were placed in separate rooms, and the doctors made their rounds to each room to examine them. I’ll never forget what it felt like as seven healthcare providers poked and prodded my arms, legs, and face during these examinations.
I was basically nude while several doctors — most of them white men — examined me, like scientists looking at a specimen in a petri dish. While I knew they were trying to help me get my condition under control, it still felt like a violation of my privacy, and the experience of feeling like an exhibition in a museum has stuck with me almost 10 years later. It’s something I never want to experience again.
A month later, we were told that the doctors had discussed their findings and come up with a diagnosis for my condition. They reviewed the biopsy and previous blood work and concluded I had lupus, as well as Sjögren’s syndrome, a condition that commonly appears with other autoimmune diseases.
I was sent to a pediatric rheumatologist to begin treatment for lupus and continued seeing my dermatologist for about a year, but I no longer needed to see her once my rashes cleared up.
The Tribulation is commencing..
Please repent, carry your cross daily and accept the free gift of Jesus Christ’s Death on the Cross for payment for your sins.
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