[awakened53]

I Was on the NHS Covid Frontline But Quit When I Saw the Harm We Were Doing

In late 2019 and early 2020, I was asked to work on the front line in an emergency department to help with the ‘war effort’. We had no idea what was going on, apart from a few videos of the Chinese suddenly collapsing due to this new contagion. We were waiting for it to hit the U.K.

It hit, I saw what it did to people, they became unwell, x-ray x-ray x-ray, PPE, barriers, red lights, code words, panic, panic. Our world changed overnight, and my world changed especially. One minute we were told not to wear masks, the next moment it was made mandatory etc.

At this point, my sole focus was to protect myself and my family, so I began studying in order to do so successfully. I read papers during my breaks and at night before work. I reflected on what I saw at work and made a mental note of the real-life evidence.

The emergency department warped as time went on; I saw a lot of errors and mismanagement of resources. Patient care was being delayed, which led to staff burnout and medical errors. I could see that if this went on, people would needlessly die.

I knew something had to change. So in efforts to bring about some change, I wrote a book outlining how Toyota’s lean manufacturing methods could aid in improving patient safety as well as reducing costs in emergency departments. The book was called [i]Saving A&E The Toyota Way[/i]. While researching for it, I learned a lot about healthcare infrastructure, artificial intelligence and preventative medicine. I knew what the national health situation was like; I knew we had to change as a species.

I presented that book to my hospital; my consultants liked it, but as an academic piece. That was not my intention, but hey ho, life goes on. There were more pressing matters at hand.

As the pandemic was progressing, I continued to research, write blogs and share what I saw. And I saw a lot of unscientific rubbish, unethical practices and poor care. The research papers said one thing, and yet we were doing something completely different. I knew very early on that not everyone needed to be jabbed. Something seemed fishy.

I worked in the emergency department and then paediatrics during the second peak. There was one child admitted due to COVID-19 who was later discharged. The ward was largely empty. And yet many doctors online were saying that COVID-19 was extremely dangerous to children. Nonsense.

Something was off: doctors weren’t being doctors, autopsies weren’t being done, the medical field was ignoring anyone who didn’t have COVID-19, and yet staff were doing TikTok dances. They asked me to join. I refused.

While all this was happening, I lost my grandma. The doctors didn’t want to see her in her home; her infection got bad; she didn’t want to go to the hospital; she became septic; she had to go in. I visited her after my shifts and fed her during my breaks.

I got the bad news from a doctor on the night she died. I asked the doctor if we could see her as a family, and he approved. We saw her one after the other, in tears and trying not to wake the other patients. Midway through, a matron I used to work with told us we couldn’t see her due to hospital policy and warned us that if we carried on she would call security on us. I told her we had approval already. She didn’t care. I saw evil in her eyes.

I asked her why she became a nurse. It was surely to treat and help people with compassion. She didn’t budge.  I said, “Go ahead and call security then.”

Thank God, we had enough time for our family to all say their goodbyes. I made sure I was the last one. I knew and saw that many others weren’t as lucky as I was. Many had to FaceTime their dying family members. We were treated so badly and healthcare professionals encouraged it. I also knew the evils that lurked inside mankind that day.

During paediatrics I asked my colleagues about masks and jabs. Why did we only allow one parent to see their newborn child while wearing a mask, whereas we could all snuggle up together in the staff room maskless? I’d get responses that sounded like parrots. “It’s the rules”; “Policy”; “To stop infection”; “We just have to do it”. No science. No debate. No conversation. No brain.

I later worked in a children’s psychiatric ward, and what I witnessed was truly backward. Many children, many of whom wanted to commit suicide, were placed in solitary confinement so that useless PCR swabs could be taken. Two would need to be done, and the nurses would sometimes forget to do these. I actually had to make them a table so they would remember. Children were required to be swabbed, but staff members who would go wherever they pleased over the weekend were not.

I told my seniors that none of this made sense and that children did not suffer with COVID-19, but they just told me it was policy. The hospital trust actually recruited people to make sure staff were changing into scrubs before work too. The worst of it was when we had a ward round on one occasion. In psychiatry, the patient would sit in the room with the rest of the staff. This particular time my consultant found out that the young person who was in the room with us wasn’t swabbed. After the patient had left, she made us all stay in the room and asked us to lock the door and find ways to disinfect the room. She was seriously considering bleaching all surfaces. In disbelief, I asked her if we had to all strip down naked and shower together too. I had work to do, so I left.

The mental health of children and adults during lockdown was the lowest I’ve ever seen it in my career. Children were arriving with life disruption-related issues such as trauma, abuse, etc. all related to lockdowns.

My next job was in general practice. I was working towards becoming a GP. I enjoyed understanding and caring for all sorts of patients. I’m a generalist at heart. However, this transition marked another difficult time for me.

On the last day of hospital medicine and just before the first day of GP work, a close work colleague of mine went to play football, collapsed and never woke up. Deep down, I knew what had caused this. I knew the link between mRNA technology and myocarditis early on.

I cried finding this information out. I cried in front of my mother for the first time in my adult life. I’m in fact tearing up typing this. My friend was killed.

I went to his parents’ house to give my condolences. His parents were there, broken. He recently proposed to his fiancée. She was there too, broken. We viewed his funeral via Zoom.

There’s a spot in the park I dip into regularly while looking up at the leaves. I am reminded of him when I do this. I am reminded of how lucky I am to be alive. Deep down, I was terrified about what this meant for people around the world.

Time went on, and I worked in general practice. There was discussion about making vaccinations mandatory for all healthcare workers. I knew this was not only unscientific and unethical, but murderous. Yet my colleagues didn’t seem to care. They were safe, I guess.

Regardless, I could not do anything about it, so I plodded along. I never stopped reading papers, writing, tweeting and sharing information. I saw patients; I saw jab-related side effects, missed periods, new-onset whole-body inflammation, hair loss, etc. I saw cognitive dissonance too.

All of a sudden, one day, my practice asked me for my full jab status. This puzzled me because the managers knew I had to be jabbed with everything else in order to work in all the other specialties. I knew they wanted to know only one result. Whether or not I had taken the COVID-19.

I didn’t lie. I told them the truth. The next day, in a panic, they asked me to stop seeing patients face-to-face. They had made a team decision as a team, without me, that I was no longer able to see patients. They felt that I was a threat to them and that I would scare them away.

I have never had COVID-19. I worked on my health and immunity every day, and I purposely breathed in the virus in the emergency department to stimulate T cells. I knew jabs increased one’s risk of infection and showed them evidence. I was the least risky person in the practice and I knew it.

They didn’t care. They didn’t care about evidence. They didn’t care about ethics, about immunity, about anything. I shrugged this off and called patients instead. I was ostracised at work and many colleagues acted coldly towards me. I was alone, but not lonely; I knew I had evidence on my side.

Many doctors had to take sick leave from work multiple times due to COVID-19. I had meetings discussing my jab status. A doctor with myocarditis on long-term meds post-jab urged me to get the shot. One said I was “too principled”, It was surreal.

They admitted it was all politics. I asked them why they didn’t read papers? I asked them about T cells. Silence.

I have wanted to become a doctor since the age of six. I love biology and enjoy helping people using my knowledge. But I understood that I was working in an environment that was harming people. I had many sleepless nights thinking about leaving.

One morning, after parking my car at work, I felt a warmth around my head. It had no words, but if it did, it told me that everything would be okay. As soon as I had that experience, my decision was made, and I felt light; a colossal weight had been lifted.

I asked to quit, and a few meetings later (carried out to make sure I wasn’t crazy), I left healthcare and then deregistered myself from the medical register. I wanted to be totally free. I needed to be.

The flat my girlfriend and I were planning to buy fell through. I was in financial turmoil. My mother cried for weeks. I was lost, but I was free. I wasn’t part of the killing system.

I did what I only knew – I began writing. I started a Patreon and am grateful for those who did and continue to contribute to that. But it wasn’t enough. I ended up being on the dole for just less than a year. The guy I had to call every two weeks was surprised I was once a doctor.

I began learning and researching everything I could to help people who had been jabbed. I knew what was going on and I didn’t want another pandemic to happen. I wanted to save as many lives as possible.

I would take my bike, cycle across the park to my local library, and work feverishly every day till close. Around this time, I was permanently suspended on Twitter for stating facts.

I see this as a blessing now, as it made me work even harder to produce something that could never be banned. A book. I worked and researched to make sure I got this book out before 2023.

I was blessed around this time to come into contact with Alex Mitchell. He introduced me to other people injured by the shots. I was determined to make sure their voices got heard. I included their stories in the book.

During this time, on my walks, I had many insights and extraordinary experiences that many people may not believe or might dismiss as crazy. I saw light, and I ended my fears.

Before the new year, I released my book, [i]Calling Out The Shots[/i]. It goes through what genetic agents are, what they do to our bodies, how we can improve our immunity, ways we may mitigate jab damage and what we need to do as a society to heal.

The book marks my first gift to the world. I am working on many more and other projects. I will fight for humanity until my final breath.

[i]Dr. Eashwarran Kohilathas is a medical doctor, qualified personal trainer and author who aims to help people achieve physiological, psychological and spiritual freedom. This article first appeared as a Twitter thread.[/i]