When Socialism Makes Health a Luxury

It has been a long time since I last wrote.

Physical recovery is not easy, and finding the strength to write while healing is even harder. But today, something small happened that pushed me back to words.

I baked.

I crossed a line in my family—the keto line. Not because keto is a trend or a way to look slim or fashionable. In my family, keto is about health. About stability. About prevention. About being strong enough so your children don’t have to be afraid for you.

But when you are physically broken, trapped in a place you never wanted to be, doing work you never chose, surrounded by rejection, control, abuse, and corruption—health becomes the last thing on your mind.

“I want a mom healthy so I don’t have to be afraid for her.”

That sentence hit me hard. It felt like a cruel summary of what this country can offer to people like me.

I was rejected by the place that was supposed to be my home. Destroyed by their corruption. Broken more deeply than my leg ever was.

Broken profession.

Broken soul.

Broken family.

Broken dreams.

Broken—because I am in the wrong place, with the wrong people, under a mentality that destroys anyone it cannot control. Mocking. Manipulating. Crushing independence. This is something many people do not understand.

Socialism breaks people who want to live free.

And this is where both the American left and right fail to see the full picture.

Socialism is not flower power. It is not equality. It is dependency.

You cannot live a healthy life, eat real food, raise strong children, and maintain dignity under a system that denies job stability, fair pay, and basic needs—only to offer government survival at the lowest possible level.

Low income.

High corruption.

A powerful 1% living well while everyone else struggles to survive.

This is socialism.

People don’t thrive—they endure.

In the United States, if you are a nurse and you want to work, you can work. Your paycheck can support your family. Your education means something.

In a socialist system, the system decides your value before you even begin.

Let’s talk reality.

A VA ICU RN in Minneapolis earns around $40–45/hour, plus benefits.

That’s about $1,500 per week, $6,000 per month gross.

Stability. Healthcare. Dignity.

In a socialist country, you will never have that—unless you become one of “them.”

That difference is called freedom.

Freedom is not luxury.

Freedom is basic needs met through your own work.

When you can’t even afford healthy food for your child, when your child is afraid for your health, freedom is already gone.

I don’t eat keto anymore.

I don’t even meet my basic needs.

Not because I am not a very good nurse—but because in this socialist system, an American nurse like me was never good enough by their standards.

Trump is right about one thing: U.S. freedom must be defended.

But defending freedom with hate, chaos, and violence destroys the very thing you claim to protect.

Money and power can always buy people willing to do anything.

So why was a VA RN out filming?

Because nurses understand freedom differently.

A nurse values life.

A nurse de-escalates.

A nurse protects.

Yes, both nurses and ICE agents may love this country.

Yes, both earn money.

Yes, both train hard.

But only one profession is built—at its core—on saving lives.

Freedom without professionalism is not freedom.

Freedom without accountability is chaos.

Do not split American freedom.

Be professional.

Protect life.

Understand what is at stake.

You have everything.

Do not destroy it.

I love the United States.

Please—don’t let it become what I escaped.

Spy Games? Nah, I’m Just Here to Take Your Blood Pressure!

Why would an American nurse want anything to do with spy games?

If I wanted to be a spy, I’d apply to Spy Academy—probably after figuring out if that’s a real thing. And if I wanted to play games in the world of spies, I’d try out for their football team (assuming they play football between top-secret missions).

But guess what? I wanted neither. No spying, no secret codes, no gadgets. Not even a decoder ring.

All I ever wanted was to be an American nurse. That’s it.

My dream? To earn an honest paycheck, buy a cozy house with a big garden, and take care of my family—all without being dragged into someone else’s cloak-and-dagger circus or dealing with folks who think “intelligence” is a license to act like a jerk.

Power? Nope, don’t want it. World domination? I’ll leave that to the comic book villains.

So, that’s that. I’m officially out of the “Romanian Presidential Election Analysis” business.

And honestly? Good riddance!

Let me get back to healing people and planting tomatoes. 😊

Spy Games? Nah, I’m Just Here to Take Your Blood Pressure!

Why would an American nurse want anything to do with spy games? If I wanted to be a spy, I’d apply to Spy Academy—probably after figuring out if that’s a real thing. And if I wanted to play games in the world of spies, I’d try out for their football team (assuming they play football between top-secret missions). But guess what? I wanted neither. No spying, no secret codes, no gadgets. Not even a decoder ring.

All I ever wanted was to be an American nurse. That’s it. My dream? To earn an honest paycheck, buy a cozy house with a big garden, and take care of my family—all without being dragged into someone else’s cloak-and-dagger circus or dealing with folks who think “intelligence” is a license to act like a jerk. Power? Nope, don’t want it. World domination? I’ll leave that to the comic book villains.

So, that’s that. I’m officially out of the “Romanian Presidential Election Analysis” business. And honestly? Good riddance! Let me get back to healing people and planting tomatoes. 😊