He got sick with a stomach bug type illness, so we thought. It was about four days before when I realized how bad it was. He was working and doing chores until he couldn’t. He had chills, fever, diarrhea , but we didn’t think it was Covid.  We finally tested him at home and he was positive. I handed him Ivermectin, saw him take the first dose, and later he said he could feel it working. I didn’t realize he wasn’t continuing to take it.  When I was on the phone with our doctor, he saw how white Denny was and told me to call ambulance.  He said that he just needed some oxygen and then the hospital would let him go home.

He had an appointment for monoclonal antibodies I made for him at 11 am which was in three hours.  When the EMTs arrived, they were scared to be by him so I sprayed Lysol in the air which seemed to make them feel better. Denny tried to walk downstairs on his own and at bottom he said he was thirsty. I was freaking out and grabbed a bottle of water to give him. It came out too fast. His eyes rolled back in his head and he stiffened up. I was screaming, “Help my husband!” over and over. The EMTs took him out on a stretcher. They worked on him a long time in the ambulance before they left our house and I am not sure what they did.

I followed them to hospital.  When I walked into the hospital, I was immediately asked if we were jabbed and I said no.  While I was in waiting room, the head nurse started telling me about how I should be vaccinated and then a doctor came out. They both looked at me with pure hatred with the masks on their faces. They asked what happened and I was so traumatized I couldn’t put words together. Finally, the doctor asked me if he fainted. I said yes. Then they left and I was told that I had to leave the hospital because I wasn’t jabbed.  So I went and sat in my car.  I went home because I didn’t know what else to do.

The only time I talked to Denny, he said  he couldn’t understand why they weren’t giving him water. He kept telling them he was thirsty, but they didn’t give him any water. I talked to the nurse and asked her to give him water. She didn’t deny they didn’t give him water. During his stay, I called all the time.  Eventually a nurse named Tara, called me and sternly instructed me that I was not to call except once per eight hour shift.

I called a friend who was a nurse and talked to her for hours and hours and hours telling her what they would tell me when I got the chance to talk to them. I didn’t know what was happening to him.  I didn’t understand what they were doing and they didn’t explain it. I couldn’t sleep and I worried constantly. I sent him  a poster with pictures and encouraging words. They said he said “that’s nice” when he saw it. I don’t remember when they told me he would not make it but I remember laying in bed crying and crying.

We learned through a friend of a relative, that they have to let you see him, so the kids and I went to see him for the last time on December 12th. The nurses informed us of the time to come so it would give them enough time to clean him up.  I don’t know what kind of condition he was in, but they needed hours. When we saw him, he was not conscious. They had us hold down his arms  because they said he was agitated and he kept trying to pull off his air masks (they didn’t have a ventilator – they were calling all over to find a bed and no place else would take him.). He was given at least 9 doses of morphine the day before he passed at 5:15 AM on December 13, 2021.