My husband Michael (who went by his middle name, Patrick) was an extraordinary man. We had been married for 17 years. He was the love of my life and an adoring father to his sons. (ages 10, 3). He fell ill the day after Christmas. He laid in bed for about a week. I was giving him all the proper vitamins and supplements he needed. Taking albuterol for asthma as well. But on the evening of January 2, 2022, his oxygen fell to 65, rapidly!

I didn’t want to take him to the hospital but I knew he needed a little oxygen to help him breathe. So, I called the paramedics, and immediately they gave him oxygen. He recovered shortly because later he told me the paramedics told him he would need to be intubated. I followed the ambulance to the hospital and informed them he is not to get remdesivir or be put on a ventilator. I have texts from my husband stating “Remdesivir is garbage.”

A year prior, my mother-in-law had died from hospital protocols and we had researched remdesivir and learned it causes renal failure. My worst fear was him getting this drug. So, they agreed to my requests….. or so I thought. The next day I spent six hours in the hospital parking lot advocating for my husband because they wouldn’t let me in the lobby with my 3-year-old. Later, he tested positive for COVID.

By he texted me and told me he was hungry and thirsty. I said, What?! It’s been 15 hours since you went into the hospital!! He said they were not giving him anything to eat or drink. I called to talk to a nurse and she said they would give him a snack.

Later that day two nurses allowed me into the room to see him. Which was a miracle in itself. They would not allow me to talk to my husband alone though. So we had to have a conversation with four nurses on both sides of the bed, intervening in our conversation. I told them I’m getting him out on AMA or hospice. They kept saying, “he’s not well, he will probably die. He won’t make it out of the parking lot”. I saw that his oxygen was at 85-90. It looked great to me.

At one point a nurse asked if I wanted to see his chart so I looked over at it and noticed they were giving him remdesivir. I reminded them that we do not want it and I took a picture of the screen, then held MY phone tightly to my chest for fear of them ripping it out of my hands. I could hear several people outside the room screaming at me, “she isn’t supposed to take a picture, have her delete the picture!!!!!!!”

I didn’t delete it. And asked my husband if I could see his chart and he said, “of course” So I turned around to look at the chart and they shut the screen off. My husband wanted to go home. I had secured a couple of oxygen tanks, ivermectin, HCQ, steroids, NAC, and a nurse friend waiting at home to care for him.

The next day I get a call from a doctor and she said Patrick is stable. I hung up with her and 15 minutes later my husband sent a text saying, “I almost coded last night, and about 10 minutes ago.” I got on the phone with the nurses’ station and asked what was going on and why didn’t the doctor tell me when we were on the phone? Her response to me was, “hmm…..I don’t know? He must THINK he’s coding.”

This was odd to me. My husband would never guess about something like that. So I called back and spoke to another nurse who was clearly annoyed and she told me he was most likely going to die. I asked her to stop saying that and asked what they were doing to help him?! She said, “well it’s been two years now and to not be vaccinated and taking precautions is reckless!!!”  Then hung up.

The next morning my husband wasn’t responding to my texts and I wasn’t getting any updates so I called and they said they are going to need to intubate him. I said absolutely not! He and I had a zoom right after that and he told me he was really scared and wanted to come home to me and the boys. The doctors/nurses said this was the only way he could get home to us. To help his lungs rest. I still didn’t want this procedure, but I had to respect him and his wishes too. that day he was heavily sedated and put on the vent.

The next day I hired a lawyer to have him transferred to a trauma hospital with ECMO. I made an appointment to speak to a doctor about giving him Ivermectin, HCQ, zinc, Vit D, and C and presented a pamphlet on the MATH+ protocols. I told them we have a right to try. They denied my requests and asked if he had a parasite, the doctor pushed the pamphlet back to me and said they have their protocols. He was put on dialysis that same day because his kidneys were failing and he had a multi-organ failure. For twenty days I wasn’t allowed into his room in the ICU. I was able to zoom call his room and speak to him. I prayed, played music, and had my kids read books to him.

The day I could finally visit they warned me that his tongue was injured from laying on the vent and it doesn’t look pretty. They were right. It was completely swollen, black, and mangled. Later on, they changed the story to “he bit his tongue.” How does one bite their tongue sedated? After the first week of visitation, I was able to go on rounds with the doctors and nurses for 30 days. That was a crazy experience. I’m thankful to have had the opportunity but every day my heart would break. It seemed nobody wanted him to get better. It was doom and gloom every day. I would remind them he was improving at times, but they would counter it with, “Yes, but he is still very sick.”

Many things happened to my husband that crushed me. It didn’t seem natural. He developed a bed sore on his sacrum that wasn’t being properly treated, it became so bad it was 4” in diameter and went to the bone. They acted like it was no big deal. His dialysis line was placed four different times, two were on the same side of his neck. The line was changed because of clots and leakage that developed in his femoral artery that the nurses admitted she should be “checking more often.”

One time they gave him a seven-day antibiotic that helped his condition but sometime on day three, in the middle of the night it was discontinued and he never recovered from it. When I asked who discontinued the medication, nobody knew. One night I found out he was receiving Vancomycin which he is allergic to and they knew this information but kept administering it anyways. When I asked why they weren’t taking him off of it they told me that his reaction would be different at home than in the hospital. So he most likely wouldn’t react to it there.

He broke out in a rash that day, AT THE HOSPITAL. Patrick developed many infections, sepsis, MSSA, fungal infection, unknown bruising on his abdomen, left alone with saliva pooling on his pillow, and his temples sunk in because he was dehydrated. He was on high doses of propofol, Dilaudid, oxycodone, Tylenol, and pressors the entire time. They would not take him off the drugs long enough for him to be coherent.

One week a new doctor suggested taking him off all sedatives and pain killers to see if he comes to. So they did. That night the nurse bolused Dilaudid. I told them my husband was a lightweight when it came to taking any medications. And to come down from such high doses is going to take a while. But they never allowed him to be off of them past four days.

Twice, they CT scanned him for brain injuries but he was fine. I kept begging them to take him off the drugs again, so they could rule out brain damage. But they wouldn’t. They said he was breathing over the vent so they have to keep him on them. And then would say they are concerned about him not responding to their stimuli tests.

In the middle of February, his oxygen levels qualified him for a trach. After the trach was put in it seemed he was on his way to recovery. He was placed into a chair a couple of times and I was very hopeful. A couple of days later a nurse was pushing on his stomach and said he seems to be in pain, he was wincing.
He had a CT and it showed diverticulitis. They said he needs to be operated on or he’ll die.

Later that day he went to surgery to have part of his intestine, and colon removed. When I asked several doctors and nurses how much they took out, nobody had an answer to this, which was very odd to me. They would say the surgeons are slow at charting sometimes. After his surgery, they asked for my consent for a blood transfusion. I consented, but they never gave it to him. At this point, I felt they were just tearing him apart. But part of me still wanted to believe they had his best interest at heart. And were trying to help him.

Holding to hope I prayed every day over him and made sure he heard my encouraging words. My husband didn’t have to go through all this. If only he got the help he went in there for. He was such a strong person who hung on for so long. The day before Patrick died. I visited him and he was doing great. I left the hospital early because he was looking good. Even though it was eerily quiet.

I got a call in the middle of the night and the doctor informed me that he wasn’t doing well and I may need to come in. I asked what happened? He was doing so well. They had no answers. They just said he’s declining. I asked if there was anything they could do? He said they may be able to try a blood clot medication but it comes with big risks. I said, try it. They did and it didn’t work. They put him on three blood pressure meds and at 1 pm he passed. I was able to be there with him.

They listed him as a Covid death. Even though he didn’t have Covid when he died. They also said he had a massive pulmonary embolism. But the autopsy doctor said his arteries were wide open. I want justice for my husband and I want these people to have consequences for what they are doing to innocent people. There need to be other treatments allowed in the hospital.

This is disgusting what they are doing and needs to be stopped!