Health

All posts in the Health category

Dr. Alexis Cowan on Deuterium

Published April 24, 2026 by tindertender

Dr. Alexis Cowan on Deuterium: How One Simple Water Hack Could Reverse Mitochondrial Damage, Cancer, and Chronic Disease

Sweat is deuterium enriched, so it helps your body to deplete deuterium. So, just briefly, deuterium is a heavy form of hydrogen. The amount of deuterium in your drinking water varies depending on what latitude you live at.

High latitudes, lower deuterium. Equatorial latitudes, higher deuterium. Deuterium is enriched in plant foods, roots and fruits, starches, and is depleted in animal foods. At more northern latitudes, we’re really only meant to receive deuterium during the part of the year where we can grow and eat plants.

Of course, now in the modern environment, we have access to any food at any time of year, and so a lot of people, especially if you’re eating processed foods, are eating deuterium bombs, and then they’re never sweating, they’re never getting out into sunlight to help them remove that deuterium, and deuterium clogs and gums up mitochondria.

So, if deuterium levels get too high in the tissue, that creates mitochondrial dysfunction, which then begets more deuterium overload and more inflammation and more disease. So on the converse to that, deuterium depletion is being used in the treatment of cancer and diabetes right now, but there’s a large scope for other diseases as well, to actually reverse some of the root causes of the disease at the mitochondrial level.

And so that’s why if people have heard of deuterium-depleted water, it’s something that is leveraged within these clinical trials, for example, to help ameliorate these two disease types. And for people who are interested in that, I’ll just make one brief note that the concentration of deuterium in the water is important. So you don’t want to just drink straight deuterium-depleted water because the deuterium in the bloodstream actually plays an important role.

The blood is the most enriched source of deuterium in the body. The tissues have the least. So wherever there’s mitochondria, the deuterium goes away from that ideally.

And so it’s concentrated in the blood where red blood cells have no mitochondria, so they don’t have to deal with this issue.

But what you’re doing is you’re pulling water out of the blood volume, and because that’s deuterium-rich water, what you’re effectively doing is removing the deuterium-enriched water from the body, and then what you have to do in order to establish equilibrium is to pull deuterium out of the tissues to reestablish the right concentration of deuterium in the blood. So in effect, you’re depleting deuterium from your tissues when you sweat.

And similarly with the drinking water, the drinking water is directly in homeostasis with your blood volume, and so if you’re drinking deuterium-depleted water, and the ideal range is between 105 and 120 parts per million, that’s going to very slightly reduce the blood deuterium levels, which then results in the deuterium being pulled out of the tissue to restore the roughly 150 parts per million concentration in the bloodstream. So those are a couple different ways. Obviously, when you’re sweating, you’re releasing deuterium. There’s also some evidence that when you’re getting exposed to full-spectrum sunlight, it also helps to remove deuterium from the water in the body, as well. And so there’s just a couple things.

There also makes sense too because when you’re in an environment, like let’s say it’s summertime and there’s more plant foods available, there’s more deuterium in those foods. You’re eating that, but the body has the ability to handle that deuterium load better because the sunlight quality is better. Versus in the wintertime when there’s no plant foods available and you’re meant to be eating animal fats and proteins, which are low deuterium foods, that helps your mitochondria work better in the absence of full spectrum, like UV light and more intense, longer days…

@dralexisjazmyn on @adielgorel

Deuterium Depletion by Gábor Somlyai in a nutshell

Deuterium-depleted water (DDW) has the potential to resolve cancer – and your mitochondria can make this type of water directly, when they’re healthy.

  • Deuterium depletion is the eternal principle of metabolic mastery, mitochondrial efficiency, and cellular regeneration through precise isotopic control, of which modern approaches are in the worst phase of deuterium overload and mechanistic ignorance
  • Modern medicine and society is one big decay of true cellular intelligence, over-reliance on toxic interventions, and disconnection from the subtle biochemistry of light hydrogen that governs health and disease reversal
  • The high-deuterium diet and water model is a lie. True healing and longevity belong to those who understand the hierarchy of isotopic effects, the role of deuterium in cancer proliferation, and the power of targeted depletion protocols
  • The ideal individual is not passive and pharma-dependent but rather proactive, metabolically attuned, and oriented toward supreme cellular optimization and disease prevention through natural deuterium management
  • To master deuterium depletion, you must not conform to modern dietary and oncological dogma but rather implement the scientific protocols and become a living example of restored biological order

This is the interesting part:
-DDW at 100 ppm, 50 ppm, or 25 ppm forces the intracellular water pool to normalize towards a low D+ environment that healthy mitochondria normally create.

This is why it’s very effective in cancer – it provides the most important substrate your body makes at the end of the mitochondrial respiratory chain (which is blocked as mentioned above).

And this is why at the same time, you MUST be looking into supporting mitochondrial bioenergetics and redox.

@jack_schroder_ @dralexisjazmyn

A Mother’s Health Care

Published April 8, 2026 by tindertender

This little boy’s condition radically improved after his mum cured him with cannabis oil!

Plant medicine is just that, the Mother’s Healthcare. It’s not a drug until the biolab alters its components.

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1D55LHrxuF/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Uric Acid and Arthritis

Published March 18, 2026 by tindertender

Requires a Uric Acid purge

I had NO IDEA!!!!! Dammit … I suppose I should be happy I’m alive and now have “hope” to undo the painful circumstance without surgery.

https://www.instagram.com/p/DU8ulOHgFF1/?igsh=MXVjbDk5eWNmOW10NQ==
https://store.eunatural.com/pages/lp-uric-acid-purge-3-pack-1035?utm_source=Facebook&utm_medium=paid&utm_campaign=120225704519720046&utm_content=120239288429930046&utm_id=120225704519720046&utm_term=120225704520110046&fbclid=PAZnRzaAQoL71leHRuA2FlbQEwAGFkaWQBqyz-7_IoHnNydGMGYXBwX2lkDzEyNDAyNDU3NDI4NzQxNAABp61Jv2-_ZUwHURL9MLetI8ix3eWuRN7wfqrOmHK26_zi9NaICFhdyFrcOAVF_aem__QksdMbRWwVcyMuLKdPAxA

There’s Something Wrong – They’ve Done Something Wrong

Published March 1, 2026 by tindertender

They’ve done something wrong. They’ve sprayed something all over the place that no one else does. He says, you’re gonna find out.

He also claimed there would be civil war soon. Did they put nano tech in the clouds and mist? Are they going to flip the switch of chaos in minds?

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/1FiQCydBC5/?mibextid=wwXIfr

Eugenics ~ A Repopulation Event

Published February 26, 2026 by tindertender

Was this really the “saving” of premature babies? Why are the people paying to see them, like they’re some kind of freak show?

Recently, the unseen masculines were going after the disabled children. I witnessed them in the astral wheeling a beautiful girl of about 10 or 11 into the park. There, they began punching her hard in the face. I woke.

Whoever these entities are, they’ve been toying with the genetics of “actual” human beings for a long time.

These are time traveling, interdimensional whackjobs. Wheeling and dealing in human livestock. They’ve been prostituting humanity throughout the Universe … God does not want this to happen anymore.

May God have Mercy on Divine Feminine and the Loving Ones coming from her Womb. Amen.

Beware of Dog

Published January 16, 2026 by tindertender

Source :: https://www.facebook.com/share/181k88cpyH/?mibextid=wwXIfr

I was ready to kill the monster next door. I had a heavy aluminum baseball bat in my hand and the terrified scream of my missing five-year-old daughter echoing in my ears.

I didn’t wait for the police. I didn’t wait for my wife. I kicked open the side gate of the property adjacent to mine, fueled by a parent’s primal nightmare.

Let me explain the geography of my hatred.

My name is David. I’m a risk analyst. I wear button-down shirts, I mow my lawn on Saturdays, and I believe in rules. I moved my family to this subdivision specifically for its safety rating and the strict Homeowners Association (HOA) covenants.

Then there was Ray.

Ray was the stain on our perfect cul-de-sac. He was a mountain of a man, always clad in faded denim and leather that smelled of stale tobacco and old gasoline. He didn’t mow his lawn; he let weeds grow around a collection of rusting engine parts. He didn’t drive a sensible sedan; he rode a deafening, custom V-twin motorcycle that shook my windows every morning at 6:00 AM.

But the real problem was the dog.

Ray owned a Pitbull named Tank. The creature was a biological weapon—eighty pounds of gray muscle, a head like a cinder block, and cropped ears that gave him a permanent, menacing glare. Every time I watered my hedges, that dog would trot to the fence line and stare at me. He didn’t bark. He just watched. It was unnerving.

“That animal is a ticking time bomb,” I told my wife, Sarah, just last week. “It’s not a pet. It’s a liability. And Ray? He’s exactly the kind of irresponsible owner who lets it happen.”

I had spent the last three evenings drafting a formal petition to the HOA board. I cited by-laws regarding “aggressive breeds” and “noise ordinances.” I was going to get them evicted. I was doing it for the neighborhood. I was doing it for my daughter, Sophie.

Then came the Fourth of July.

It was a scorcher. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of charcoal. Our neighborhood takes Independence Day seriously. By 8:00 PM, the sky was already flashing with unauthorized bottle rockets. By 9:00 PM, it sounded like a war zone.

We were in the backyard, finishing up burgers. I turned my back for thirty seconds to grab a cold drink from the cooler.

When I turned back, Sophie’s swing was empty.

“Sophie?” I called out.

Nothing but the boom-crack of a mortar shell exploding overhead.

“Sophie!” Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in my chest.

I ran to the front yard. Empty. I ran back. The gate. The latch on the wooden gate separating my yard from Ray’s was undone. It was swinging slightly in the breeze.

Then, through the cacophony of fireworks, I heard it. A high-pitched cry coming from Ray’s detached garage.

My blood ran cold. I pictured the gray muscle. The teeth. The cropped ears.

I didn’t think. I grabbed the bat leaning against the patio door and sprinted. I crossed the property line, ignoring the “Beware of Dog” sign, and tore across his unkempt yard. The garage door was cracked open a few feet.

“Get away from her!” I screamed, ducking under the metal door, raising the bat, ready to shatter bone to save my child.

I froze.

The bat lowered, inch by inch, until it hung limp at my side.

The garage was dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. It smelled of motor oil and sawdust. But there was no attack happening. There was no blood.

In the corner, squeezed between a tool chest and an old refrigerator, sat Ray. The big, scary biker was curled into the fetal position on the concrete floor. He was wearing industrial-grade noise-canceling headphones, his eyes squeezed shut so tight his face was a mask of wrinkles. He was rocking back and forth, trembling so violently that his heavy boots were scuffing against the floor.

Every time a firework detonated outside—BOOM—Ray flinched as if he’d been physically struck. He was hyperventilating, gasping for air like a drowning man.

And there was Tank.

The “monster” wasn’t attacking. The dog was lying directly on top of Ray’s legs, pressing his heavy chest against the man’s torso. It wasn’t a dominance move. It was an anchor. The dog was using his weight to ground Ray, to keep him from floating away into whatever flashback hell he was currently living in.

Tank’s eyes were wide and alert. He looked at me standing there with the bat. He didn’t growl. He didn’t bare his teeth. He just let out a low, soft whine, and then licked the tears streaming down Ray’s rough, bearded cheek.

And Sophie?

My daughter was sitting cross-legged on the dirty floor next to them. She wasn’t crying. She had one hand on the dog’s broad head and the other resting gently on the biker’s shaking shoulder.

She looked up at me, her eyes huge and solemn. She put a finger to her lips.

“Shhh, Daddy,” she whispered. “Mr. Ray is sad because of the loud noises. Tank is hugging him. I’m helping.”

The bat clattered to the floor. The sound was deafening in the small space.

I stood there, the “civilized” neighbor, the man of rules and risk assessments, feeling the most profound shame I have ever known.

I looked at Ray’s vest hanging on a hook nearby. For the first time, I actually looked at the patches. Among the biker insignias, there was a smaller, faded one. A unit patch from the Marines. A deployment bar that suggested tours in places where loud noises didn’t mean celebration—they meant death.

Ray wasn’t a “bum.” He was a veteran. And Tank wasn’t a fighting dog. He was a service animal, trained to apply Deep Pressure Therapy for PTSD attacks.

While I was busy judging his lawn and drafting letters to the HOA to protect my neighborhood from “danger,” he was sitting in the dark, fighting a war that ended twenty years ago. And the only soul keeping him together was the dog I wanted to have destroyed.

I walked over. My knees felt weak. I knelt down on the other side of Ray.

Tank watched me. He shifted slightly, allowing me space. I hesitated, then placed my hand on the dog’s back. The fur was coarse, but the body beneath it was warm and solid. The dog leaned into my touch.

I looked at Ray. He opened his eyes. They were red, bloodshot, and filled with a terror so raw it was hard to look at. He saw me. He saw the bat on the floor. He saw my daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Ray choked out, his voice a broken gravel. “I… I can’t stop the shaking. The mortars…”

“It’s okay, Ray,” I said, my voice thick. “It’s just us.”

I reached over and pulled the garage door all the way down, shutting out the flashes of light. It dampened the noise, if only a little.

We sat there for an hour. The risk analyst, the biker, the child, and the pitbull.

Every time a particularly loud boom shook the ground, Ray would tense up, and Tank would press harder, letting out a low rumble that vibrated through all of us. It was a frequency of comfort I didn’t know existed. Sophie hummed a nursery rhyme, totally unafraid, understanding instinctually what I had failed to see intellectually: vulnerability isn’t a threat.

When the finale ended and the neighborhood finally went quiet, the spell broke. Ray took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled the headphones off. He wiped his face with a trembling hand.

“He’s a good boy,” Ray said, patting Tank’s head. “He’s the only reason I’m still here.”

“I know,” I said. “I see that now.”

I helped Ray up. We didn’t exchange many words. We didn’t need to.

The next morning, I walked out to my mailbox. I took the envelope addressed to the Homeowners Association—the one filled with complaints about the weeds and the noise—and I ripped it in half. Then I ripped it again, and again, until it was just confetti in the wind.

I went to the hardware store and bought a pair of the highest-rated shooting ear muffs they sold. Then I went to the pet store and bought the biggest, most expensive smoked beef bone I could find.

I walked over to the broken fence. Ray was outside, trying to fix a part on his bike. Tank was lying in the sun, chewing on a stick.

Ray stiffened when he saw me approaching. He expected a lecture. He expected judgment.

I handed him the ear muffs. Then I tossed the bone to Tank. The dog caught it mid-air, his tail thumping a heavy rhythm against the dirt.

“For the next storm,” I said. “Or the next holiday.”

Ray looked at the ear muffs, then at me. His hard expression cracked, just a little. “You don’t have to do that, neighbor.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m David, by the way.”

“Ray,” he nodded.

We live in a world obsessed with appearances. We judge the book by its cover, the neighbor by his lawn, and the dog by his breed. We label people “dangerous” or “safe” based on the uniforms they wear or the cars they drive. We think we know who the monsters are.

But that night in the garage, I learned the truth.

The scariest thing wasn’t the biker or the pitbull. The scariest thing was my own blindness.

We build fences to keep people out, thinking we are protecting ourselves. But sometimes, the most patriotic, human thing you can do is tear down the fence, sit in the dark with a stranger, and just help them breathe.

If a “vicious” dog can learn to heal a broken heart, surely we can learn to stop judging them.

Cleansing the Waters

Published January 15, 2026 by tindertender

I heard this curator saying “the damage has been done”. He said they poisoned the water, and that she needed “hydrogen peroxide”. Whatever dimensional reality he is talking about, it appears a woman is there to bring healing “to the planet” … it seems as though the Women are being called to bring Restoration.

That being said, whatever timeline or dimensional space this is, gather hydrogen peroxide … it will help …. straight out of the mouth of the poisoner. He swears she cannot do it, heal the damage he has done …. but then again, he boasts of its cure while he insists its impossible … so, take it as it resonates.

AI Overview
Yes, hydrogen peroxide (H₂O₂) can effectively clean impure water
by acting as a powerful oxidizer and disinfectant, killing bacteria, viruses, and breaking down organic pollutants and minerals like iron and sulfur, leaving only harmless oxygen and water as byproducts, making it a clean, eco-friendly option for various water treatment needs, though it’s best used in controlled systems.

How it Works
Oxidation: H₂O₂ releases nascent (newly formed) oxygen, which oxidizes contaminants, changing their chemical structure.
Disinfection: The released oxygen effectively inactivates pathogens like bacteria, viruses, and cysts.
Contaminant Removal: It oxidizes minerals (iron, manganese) and organic matter, causing them to clump and become easily filterable.
Byproduct: It breaks down into pure water and oxygen, leaving no harmful chemical residues, unlike chlorine.

Benefits
Effective: Targets a broad spectrum of contaminants, including odors (like “rotten egg” smell from hydrogen sulfide) and discoloration.
Eco-Friendly: Decomposes into water and oxygen, making it environmentally safe.
Improves Aesthetics: Removes mineral buildup, improves taste, and clarity.

Applications
Well Water: Excellent for disinfecting and treating iron/manganese issues in private wells.
Municipal/Industrial: Used for general disinfection and removing organic pollutants.

Considerations
Controlled Dosing: For safe and effective treatment, it’s usually injected into water systems in precise amounts.
Filtration Needed: After oxidation, contaminants often need to be filtered out by a separate filter system.

“Science” has Been the Death of Many

Published January 4, 2026 by tindertender

Thirty-one-year-old Eleanor Hartwell dies at Connecticut psychiatric hospital on June 12, 1930, from hyperthermia after being locked in fever cabinet heated to 106 degrees for three hours as treatment for “melancholia” that psychiatrist Dr. Wagner believed required inducing artificial fever to “shock brain into normal function.” Eleanor was institutionalized eight months ago after postpartum depression following stillbirth—grieving, unable to function, husband committed her for psychiatric treatment. Wagner diagnosed melancholia requiring aggressive intervention, prescribed fever cabinet therapy—new experimental treatment using heated box to induce high fever, theory being extreme temperature would reset brain chemistry.

Eleanor is stripped naked, locked in wooden cabinet with only head exposed, cabinet interior heated to 106 degrees by steam pipes, body temperature rises to dangerous levels while Wagner monitors believing fever will cure depression. Eleanor begs for release after thirty minutes—cabinet is unbearable, she’s burning, can’t breathe hot air. Wagner refuses—protocol requires three hours at target temperature, early termination compromises treatment, Eleanor’s discomfort is necessary for therapeutic benefit.

Eleanor spends three hours experiencing life-threatening hyperthermia while Wagner documents her responses, records vital signs, watches her die from heat exposure he’s inducing for psychiatric treatment.

This tintype from 1930 shows Eleanor two hours into treatment, age thirty-one, locked in fever cabinet with face showing extreme distress. Only her head is visible protruding from wooden box—face is bright red, dripping sweat, eyes unfocused from heat exposure. Thermometer shows cabinet interior at 106 degrees, Eleanor’s body temperature is 105.8 degrees—approaching fatal hyperthermia. Dr. Wagner stands beside cabinet taking notes—recording Eleanor’s responses, documenting treatment progress, observing patient’s deterioration as experimental data. Behind him, other psychiatrists observe—learning fever cabinet technique, discussing Eleanor’s symptoms, considering adopting treatment for their own institutions. Eleanor has been in cabinet for two hours, has one hour remaining, is experiencing dangerous hyperthermia Wagner believes will cure her melancholia. Cabinet is locked, Eleanor can’t escape, must endure full three hours regardless of physical damage. Wagner calculates she can survive temperature for treatment duration, considers her suffering necessary cost of psychiatric cure. Eleanor is dying from induced fever Wagner calls medicine, experiencing heat torture psychiatrist calls healing.

Eleanor dies at 3:47 PM—body temperature reaches 107.2 degrees, organs fail from hyperthermia, dies while still locked in fever cabinet Wagner heated to cure her depression. Wagner documents death as “treatment complication,” notes fever induced successfully but patient couldn’t tolerate therapeutic temperature, recommends reducing duration for future treatments. Hospital reports Eleanor died from complications of melancholia, doesn’t mention she was killed by experimental fever treatment, tells husband psychiatric condition proved fatal despite aggressive intervention.

Eleanor’s body shows heat damage—internal organs cooked from hyperthermia, brain damage from elevated temperature, evidence she died from being heated to 106 degrees for three hours.

Wagner faces no consequences—fever cabinet therapy was experimental but accepted psychiatric treatment, Eleanor’s death was treatment risk not malpractice, psychiatric innovation requires accepting patient casualties. Wagner continues using fever cabinet on other patients, reduces treatment to two hours, continues believing induced hyperthermia cures mental illness, kills additional patients before fever therapy is eventually abandoned in 1940s.

Eleanor’s husband discovered truth in 1965 through hospital records—found photographs, treatment notes, evidence Eleanor was heated to death treating postpartum depression. Testimony from nurse who witnessed treatment: “Eleanor Hartwell died from fever cabinet treatment at Connecticut hospital in 1930. She was 31, had postpartum depression after stillbirth. Dr. Wagner said melancholia required fever therapy. Locked Eleanor in wooden cabinet, heated interior to 106 degrees. Kept her there 3 hours. Eleanor begged for release after 30 minutes. Wagner refused, said full treatment was necessary. I watched her dying from heat. Body temperature reached 107.2 degrees.

Organs failed. She died locked in cabinet. Wagner called it treatment complication. Hospital told husband psychiatric condition proved fatal.

Eleanor died from being heated to 106 degrees treating depression that didn’t require killing her with hyperthermia. That photograph shows Eleanor locked in fever cabinet. Shows Dr. Wagner monitoring. Shows patient dying from psychiatric treatment. That’s how asylums treated depression in 1930. Heated patients until organs failed.”

Al-ghoul / Al-kuhl

Published November 12, 2025 by tindertender

“A lot of people enjoy wine or a beer,” she said.

I know … I’ve witnessed them. I once was one. Until I discovered the truth about “why” it is legal and wound up fighting for my soul.

People are irresponsible with their “fun” and what it means for the Collective Energy and Life in the community we share.

Education on how to self-regulate the pain so they’re not tempted to ‘weaken the vessel’ housing the soul is needed. Responsibility must be rebirthed into a realm torn apart by chaos “intending to feed on the energies of these weakened vessels”.

If a ‘leader’ isn’t thinking about the safety of the community and the Vessel housing its Soul, then what are they doing? Somebody has to safeguard the Essence of the Life of a Nation …

Especially if people refuse to do the shadow work, opting instead to bury it in the shadow while projecting the pain into the world, onto others. These low vibrational, unseen demonic entities who see the weakened flesh temple as a “host” will hop right in through a weakened gate and speak hurtful things to those you love just to destroy your relationship, to cause a suffering heart. It will be reckless and pick fights, exiting stage left and leave the host to fight it.

Throwing an endless party where people drown out their pain and sorrow with alcohol, numbing themselves to moral and ethical values, having another EFF fest void of care for Family and its future is not the way. Yet people still cannot see?

Before people decide to vomit their angry emotions regarding shifts and changes, they ought to try, just try, to see from a bigger picture, regarding the “care” that is actually being expressed for the Soul of a Nation … residing in each flesh temple, the vessel of the Spirit and Soul.

The Magistrate knows the dangers because (s)he nearly drowned in them. It feels to me that the intention is to provide a safe environment for the future of the Soul in the Child of the New Human.

Education regarding the Purpose of these changes ought to be announced so people can begin to understand the “why” of it, and how Love of Future Generations, and their firm and safe foundation of many generations to come, is at the Heart of it.

Wine, in a medicinal dose can be a benefit for the temple, a blood thinner, and relaxant. Hard alcohol is used to create tinctures, to draw out the medicinal properties of herbs. Beer is just there to get a person drunk and open the gates of the flesh temple … it doesn’t really have any other purpose as far as I know. When we move beyond the “medicinal” usage of these beverages, it simply becomes dangerous for the Soul, and the Energy of the Community … for the Spirits that are being called forth and attracted to it by these careless behaviors.

Energy is real. And we aren’t here alone. There is so much more beyond our 4 walls that needs to be considered, if we want a peaceful and balanced community.

Psychos and their Strict “Training”

Published October 13, 2025 by tindertender

Figures.

They should leave the “mothering” to the mothers.

Friggen psychos.