My story is so similar to so many. I will do my best to keep my story here short – but that is difficult for me to do.

Nelson and I had just returned from a 5-week camping trip to Maine on August 3. During that time, we walked 3 miles a day, boated, fished, and Nelson golfed. I mention this as even though he was 78, he was active and looked more like 68 vs 78. He was healthy and happy. We loved each other, the Lord and our lives. We were truly blessed.

The morning of August 12, 2021, Nelson mentioned he was a little under the weather and was going to stay in bed a while, while I got ready to go to work. I wasn’t concerned, but suggested we make an appointment to see our PCP the next day, just to be certain. Friday our PCP checked him out and noted a slight fever, but suggested he have some blood work done to insure he didn’t have an infection. That we did. No issues with breathing and our PCP did not recommend a PCR test (which we know doesn’t really confirm COVID 19 anyway). Over the weekend he slept a lot and had horrible bout with diarrhea on Sunday Morning. He didn’t have much of an appetite and I was having a difficult time getting him to want to hydrate or eat. He just wanted to sleep, which was his normal approach to healing whenever he didn’t feel well. Monday first thing I called the PCP again and told him about this diarrhea and he called in a prescription for metronidazole. The doctor thought it was a case of diverticulitis and was not concerned. Tuesday Nelson was weak and dehydrated. We made another appointment with the PCP and was told he needed fluids and he recommended the ER and the local hospital. His oxygen saturation was normal and again, no thoughts of it being Covid. Just last month it was re-affirmed, our PCP still to this day does not believe it was COVID. In the ER, we were asked about his vaccination status – no thinking anything of it, I said he had the first dose of Pfizer, but nothing more after that. They asked our religious affiliation which I answered. I also told them I didn’t want him tested for COVID, no Remdesivir and no vent. I never considered that there was an ulterior motive with their line of questions. The ER nurse said that if I didn’t agree to the PCR test, he would be going to the COVID ward. And if he did test positive, he would go to the COVID ward. They made sure he tested positive.

We as Americans are conditioned to be honest and trust the doctors and hospitals. It wasn’t until the first day of the funeral viewing that I heard Dr. Jane Ruby referring to the hospitals as the modern-day ovens. If I had only known that information two weeks earlier, I would have never agreed to admit Nelson to the hospital and would have had his treatment been in our home. He would still be alive today.

I stayed with him in the ER until 2:00 a.m. when he was moved to a room. I kissed him and that was the last time I saw my husband. I asked about visiting hours and was told there were none. I was locked out. No advocating for my husband – the horror was just beginning. Even though he was not on Oxygen in the ER, the next morning I was told that he needed high flow O2. This seemed extremely odd as he had not experienced any breathing issues whatsoever. Communication was limited to just a few minutes from the nurses and for the first few days, he was able to talk. By day three or four, they had moved him to a Bi-Pap. No more conversations over the phone with him due to this mask. I had been requesting a number of treatments including Regeneron, High doses of IV vitamin C, fenofibrate, ivermectin and HCQ and many other treatments. All were denied. I was being asked to approve Remdesivir as it was the only thing they would give – finally under duress and coercion, I reluctantly approved. I knew its history and was against its use.

Daily updates continued stating that he was holding his own, no better but no worse. That’s what my two-minute nurse updates told me daily. The morning of Saturday August 28, 2021, the bottom fell out. I got a call from a hospitalist doctor telling me that his oxygen had fallen, and they moved him to the ICU and put him on a vent. What they did not tell me for some time was they couldn’t intubate him due to a mass in the back of his throat and they had to do an emergency tracheotomy. Then to the operating room to stabilize the trachea. I believe that this time, he was already gone. The night nurse in the ICU to told me there were worried about neurological issues – when I inquired why, she said it was because of how long he had been without oxygen. On Monday August 30, a kidney doctor told me he would need to be put on dialysis to help his kidneys heal. I agreed, anything to help him get well and come home. Tuesday morning August 31, 2021, my phone rang at 4:30 a.m. It was a PA in the ICU stating that they couldn’t get his blood pressure up and hence couldn’t start dialysis. They asked my approval to give a 3rd med to boost his pressure – I didn’t understand as they had not told me anything about the first two meds. An hour later they called and said that didn’t work and they only had one more med to try. I needed to get to the hospital. Two dear church friends came and picked me up and we went to say goodbye. I was met by the kidney doctor who explained to me that there was nothing else to be done. I couldn’t be with him to say goodbye, but I could watch him die through the glass window in the ICU. I couldn’t do that. When the nurse who took him off the vent came to the waiting room to tell me he had passed away, she said they took him off the vent at 9:50 a.m. and he died at 9:51 am. My one friend asked the nurse "how may have come off the vent in this hospital since COVID started and she held up her hand denoting "5." She stated that she remembered their names. The PA who had called me suggested that I would probably want an autopsy. I stated I did. The only problem was that it was done by the hospital network where he passed. I had wanted to have Dr. Cyril Wecht, a world renown forensic pathologist do the autopsy, but since they claimed it was COVID, he couldn’t do it. When I saw my husband for the first time at the funeral home, I didn’t recognize him. Had had been starved – his suit that had fit him perfectly two weeks before when he usher for church, was not filled with paper to make it fit.

I have what I believe to be all of his medical records, his chest x-rays and films for the hospital stay and the two years prior, for comparative purposes of his lungs. I also have the hospital billing records, the autopsy and all of my transcribed notes. I will start to review these records myself now that I know a bit more as to what I should look for. I believe he had to have been sedated heavily to ensure he died.

I have told his story to Former Feds Group and Protocol The links follow:
Joyce W.'s Story (
Joyce's Story - The FormerFedsGroup Freedom Foundation.

Pittsburg, PA