#physiotherapy

Day Two of My Broken Ankle Recovery: Coffee, Music & Rehab Fun

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Day two of my ankle recovery, and six weeks since the crash.

When it keeps raining, mornings are hard — painful, stiff, and slow.
Still, I try to keep going by focusing on the good. And today, there is good.

The good news: I advanced from wearing the foamwalkingboots 24/7 to using them only when I walk.
And no — I’m still not walking yet 😅
But at least now I can sleep better.

Yupiii. And that is great, isn’t it?

Another very good reason to wake up and live with a stiff ankle: coffee ☕
I wish it were café con leche, like in Spain… but it’s not.
So I adapt.

I found a bonbon coffee, close enough to my beloved Spanish version, and I keep going there.
Honestly? Still cheaper than a therapist. LOL.

Physiotherapy is expensive here, but thank God we have AI, YouTube, and people like me who share their recovery journeys online.

I still have my resistance bands from years ago — back when I used them to become pretty sexy and slim.
Done with that era! 😂
Now they’re officially reassigned: ankle rehab mode.

YouTube music on.
AI‑generated rehab routine.
I compare it with what others did before me and with my surgeon’s notes.
And then… let’s go, girl.

I discovered that doing exercises sitting on a chair actually works well.
And the songs — oh, the songs — they’re amazing. They truly make me happy.

I might even make a playlist for you:
“BrokeYourAnkleRehab” 😄

Every day brings a new challenge and a new discovery. In everything.

Like figuring out how to clean soap off your body while sitting on a bathroom chair, using a non‑movable shower head.
Yes. That is a thing.
But we’ll talk about that another time.

Maybe God gave me this challenge so I could teach others how to survive it — with laughter, strength, and honesty.

But for now, until tomorrow:
Find something fun in everything.
Stay up.
Find a good song.
And get yourself a pot with a long handle to wash those bubbles 😂

Love you, like always.
Be good. Be genuine. Be strong.

A Sandwich, a Symphony, and Sunshine

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There he is—Panama hat tilted just right, white T-shirt with a palm tree that looks like it survived the laundry wars, a cellphone stuffed in his chest pocket, and (wait for it)… a sandwich sticking out of his pants pocket. Stylish, right?

Oh, and the soundtrack? A violin playing from his phone like he’s got a personal orchestra following him around.

He’s got an old white mustache, the kind that smells exactly like Dad’s did. A big panza that he wears proudly—no belt, no shame, just pure belly confidence. His ankles peek out like they’re enjoying the sun too. Black sunglasses complete the look. Basically: Latino James Bond… if James Bond loved sandwiches.

He sits there, eating, listening to music, totally zen. Meanwhile, I’m staring like, “Who IS this guy?!”

Earlier he was speaking Spanish with an old man in the store. Then he strolled over to me like always—like nothing in life is too heavy. Even HER overseas cancer feels lighter around him. She laughs, she planed, because that’s what normal people do. Laugh and plan.

The violin keeps playing. The sandwich gets smaller. My smile gets bigger.

I don’t know what an overture is—maybe this is one? Whatever, I’m just a tired girl trying to make sense of life. But seriously… who is this man? Hi hands are incredible elegant!

I MET these hands gestures BEFORE!

He doesn’t even bother with a belt. Just belly and vibes.

Sandwich with pesto, elegant, music, and class.

He looks so much like Dad it almost hurts, but in the sweetest way.

And then—plot twist—he gives his last bite of sandwich to a bird. “That’s all,” he says.

Like some old-school movie hero. I love this man!

Maybe he’s gay, maybe not. Who cares? He’s elegant, kind, funny, and normal. No dirty tricks, no politics, no games. Just an old man enjoying sunshine with a sandwich and a symphony. And me!

Hands folded over his big belly, shades on, violin still playing. The world needs more people like him.

Love you, old man. Never change.

Now tell me… what’s the name of that symphony?

Two Asian a man and a woman (Chinese) came up, and one of them took a picture of me in the background of their single-shot photo. My old man got upset—he tossed his napkin into the trash and walked away.

I don’t like these spy-like actions intruding into my real life.
Go to hell—and target them, not my real, genuine life!

Let my oldy live his life! And me too!!

My Story: Poison, Corruption, and a Hidden Kabbalistic Network

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Two attempts to poison me—both orchestrated by the same man – a Rabbi . A man deeply connected to dirty intelligence services, organized crime, and a twisted Kabbalistic network.

I am trapped, gangstalked and in danger in a world of corruption at the highest levels, with no one to trust and nowhere to turn.

The first attempt was on September 27, 2024.

It seemed like a simple meeting, an innocent snack offered—”a date with a nut inside.” Funny isn’t it? That “nut” was poisoned with ethylene glycol.

I ate it, unaware of the danger. My osmolal gap was critically high; my body was shutting down.
Who saved me? A Chinese doctor.

I recognized the author. She came out of nowhere, but I had met her before. A dirty spy.

She had lived in every place I moved to, always under disguise.

I didn’t recognize her then, but now I know—she had been watching over me.

She is HE!

The man who did this to me is a monster. He is a dirty intelligence officer, a member of an organized crime faction with connections to a corrupted deep state.

He killed my dog.

He hypnotized and molested me.

He stalks me in the streets.

And now, he’s tried to poison me again.

On December 29, 2024, I saw him once more, disguised as a woman and accompanied by a former CIA agent woman too.

But I knew it was him—I recognized him by his ankles. He tried to manipulate me, to entangle me in his web.

He offered me a “beautiful partner,” using emotional tricks and even attempting to anchor me to my ancestry.

I refused every time.

He filmed me again, just as he has done countless times before, stealing my personal life on his CCTV footage and invading my home.

Then, on the last day of Chanukah, December 31, 2024, the EVIL struck again.

I smelled it first—an intense, sickly-sweet smell near my elevator.

My chemistry training kicked in.

I knew immediately: ethylene glycol vapors.

He had poisoned the air this time.

The timing was deliberate. New Year’s Eve, when any toxicology report could be dismissed as alcohol consumption. But I knew the truth.

This man and his network are deeply connected to intelligence services—CIA, Mossad, or perhaps even a rogue faction.

They use distorted Kabbalistic practices and twisted beliefs to justify their actions.

Their goal is control, and they won’t stop until I am silenced or broken. Yes I AM IN DANGER!

I know what he’s done backed up by his family and network!

He records his actions, reveling in his evil, calling it “a full dose of lightness.”

He mocks and intimidates, flaunting his power.

This is the fight I face—a battle not just for my survival but against a system of corruption and crime hidden in the shadows.

I trust my senses. I know what I’ve endured. And I will not be silenced.

Critical High Toxic Effects of Vaping Ethylene Glycol:

Cardiovascular Issues: Arrhythmias, hypotension, or cardiac arrest.

Respiratory Damage: Severe lung irritation or chemical pneumonitis.

CNS Effects: Dizziness, seizures, or coma.

Metabolic Acidosis: Toxic metabolites cause organ damage.

Kidney Damage: Crystal formation leads to acute kidney failure.


Symptoms:

Nausea, vomiting, difficulty breathing, confusion, abdominal pain, loss of consciousness.

Treatment:

Support: Oxygen, IV fluids, or dialysis if needed.

Emergency Care: Call poison control or 911 immediately.

Antidotes: Fomepizole or ethanol to block toxin metabolism.

This is the EVIL and his organized crimes network in:

Intelligence Once Is Intelligence FOREVER! Why I Keep My Distance

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Intelligence Once Is Intelligence FOREVER!
Why I Keep My Distance

It’s early morning, and I’m just trying to mind my own business. Then BAM—there he is. Too close. Waaaay too close. My radar lights up like a Christmas tree. RED BUTTON ALERT! SCREEN!

At first, he looks like any regular guy. But no, my instincts catch three key details:

  1. The bottle sticking out of his jacket—sketchy.
  2. His pants—so clean they probably have a Ph.D. in laundry science.
  3. His voice—smooth like a secret agent audition. ALERT!

He comes closer. Like he knows that I know. And oh, he KNOWS. From across the way, he’s been watching, making sure I understand exactly what’s going on. And yeah, I knew it. I really do.

But wait—one question: Is this prevention, or is it a compliance check?
Either way, I’m keeping score.

Fast Forward: 30 Minutes Later
Ding-ding-ding! Another alert. It’s like I’ve won a terrible bingo game. Bottle? Check. Pants? Check. Suspicious smooth voice? Triple check.

Oh, but it gets better. Across the parking lot, there’s a car waiting. For me? For someone else? Who knows! I stroll past it, thinking, Wouldn’t it be funny if I accidentally flipped this whole scene upside down? But no, I’m just late—again. Always late. It’s practically genetic. (Thanks, Latino family chaos.)

Check. Check More. Keep Checking.
Hands? Fine. Lips? Fine. Ankles? Sure, why not. Every “suspicious” part of me is apparently passing some bizarre inspection. At this point, I’m questioning everything. What the heck did I just step into? A spy movie? A reality show? A bad prank? Whatever it is, I don’t like it, and I definitely want out.

But guess what? No exit doors here. So, the day officially begins.

I’m praying to God for patience—because dealing with dirty intelligence feels like babysitting a bunch of overgrown toddlers with too many gadgets.


Cue the Drama

And just like that, the story kicks off. Fantastic, I think, mentally preparing myself.
“Let’s see where this circus goes.” But truth be told? I don’t care. That country killed my mom and protected her killers. They try the emotional link…again! I don’t care!
Cuba, Zimbabwe—heck, at least I’d know the villains by name there, everyone knows them!

Meanwhile, narcissism and I? Old frenemies. Nothing shocks me anymore. WHATEVER!


Scene Two: Enter the Intimidation Actor

And here comes the actor. Poor guy looks like he was cast last minute.

His “intimidation face” screams more “nervous intern” than “tough guy.”
Honestly? I’m kind of enjoying this part.


Then they try to up their game with… a video. A VIDEO! Seriously?

Who’s even watching this? Why don’t they just ask me directly for the truth about how dirty intelligence ruins lives? Spoiler: it’s not a feel-good rom-com.


And don’t get me started on the accents. One guy sounded like Elon Musk on a spaceship. What’s next? A Pablo Escobar impersonator? Cue laughter.


YES, I’m MAGA. Here’s Why.

Oh, and let me just say this loud and clear—YES, I’m MAGA. Why? Because the dirty deep state wrecked my life, that’s why! I’ve had it with these “intelligence games.” Countries don’t even matter anymore when the system’s is rotten.


What DOES matter? WORLD PEACE.

And newsflash: no one’s buying peace with these shady, manipulative tactics.

Let MAGA do its job and clean the dirty deep state!

Actors Stay on Stage, Please.

Listen, I’m not here for entertainment. Save the drama for Netflix. I’m here for a genuine, peaceful life with NORMAL, honest people. Is that too much to ask?


Meanwhile, at 9:30 PM, the crazy one rolls into my neighborhood again. How does this guy always manage to pick my roads? Some kind of dirty intelligence GPS?

This is the world we’re living in now, folks.

It’s all organized crime games, up by—you guessed it—dirty intelligence.
And it’s got to stop.

What I Like? Real People Normal mind people!

Here’s the deal: I like people who are GENUINE, NORMAL, and NATURAL.

Good, bad, flawed—whatever, as long as they’re REAL you can have a NORMAL communication. None of this artificial, intelligence-crafted nonsense. NO crazy people walking and talking like normal ones but messing around with normal people!

Because let’s face it: the world is crazy enough. We don’t need more drama. We need sanity.

So yeah, proud MAGA here. Don’t like it? LOL!