I want the same thing that happened to me to happen to him. His little gain of function science experiment was a doozy.
I want his lungs to be shredded and riddled with COVID scars that get bigger every time he is exposed.
I want his digestive system to get shut down for weeks at a time, causing daily vomiting, nausea, abdominal swelling, and pain so intense he needs to be hospitalized every time.
I want him to experience novel seizures where he collapses to the floor, goes blind, is paralyzed, and stops breathing because his autonomic functions cease. I want this to happen multiple times a week, while his family hovers over him and his pets freak out, wondering if this is the time he won’t come out of it and die infront of them.
I want him to know what it feels like to lie helpless on the ground, slowly suffocating, while his children beg for him to breathe.
I want him experience fluid build up in and around his lungs so severe that during coughing fits its coming out of his nose. I want him to hear the panic in his family’s voice as they call the ambulance and cry to the dispatcher that their parent is dying.
I want him to labor under continuous medical bills.
I want him in and out of the hospital so frequently that the staff know him on a first name basis.
I want him to be so weak he is unable to climb the stairs to lay down next to his spouse.
I want him to have a seizure at the top of the stairs and collapse down them, banging up his neck, back, and ribs.
I want him to be afraid to leave his house, because when he has a seizure in public people treat him like a sideshow attraction and gawk at him.
I want him to experience the crushing humiliation of constant brain fog that makes forming a cohesive sentence or responding to an email difficult.
I want his life slowly stripped from him.
I want him to go through a PET scan, have an adverse response to the radioactive materials, and be hospitalized for it.
I want him to be diagnosed with cancer and have 20 years wiped off his life.
I want him to miss important family milestones because he is too sick to attend.
Finally, I want him to experience the kind of death I will, hooked to machines, slowly dying, doped up on meds to escape the pain.
Remember the sand flea/beagle experiment he approved? Do that to him. Pay-per-view.
Jesus Christ. So many dead, dying and suffering. I’m praying for you, it’s just so unjust.