Madison, VA
He was our protector, our warrior, and gave the best hugs. He will be missed forever.
My husband was killed, not from the diagnosis of Covid, but from hospital policies.
My Husband Held Hostage
“I was completely shut out, like thousands, as my husband was railroaded into treatment that killed him.”
My name is Jena S. Griffith, RDN, functional nutritionist & health practitioner. "My husband, JW, was killed by the current standard of care protocol in Virginia Hospital Center, Arlington on October 18th, leaving me, our 13 year-old son and his two adult children. Despite my advocacy, knowledge of health & covid research, familiarity with medical language, I was completely shut out, like thousands, as my husband was railroaded into treatment that killed him, while they withheld higher dose steroids (as noted by Dr. Paul Marik & Dr. Pierre Kory, etc.) and other treatments that may have saved him.
As a Functional Registered Dietitian Nutritionist (RDN), I am licensed to provide Medical Nutrition Therapy. I use various lab tests, food as medicine and lifestyle practices to help people get to the root cause of their health issues and heal. I am an expert in orthomolecular medicine—using therapeutic doses of vitamins and minerals that have an evidence basis. I am also an editor for a peer reviewed nutrition-focused publication, which means I read research daily.
What He Needed
My husband was killed, not from the diagnosis of covid, but from hospital policies that either under treat, mis-treat or over treat with incorrect, often deadly, medications. I realize the weight of that accusation, and I stand by it, with thousands of others that have suffered similar inhumane and unnecessarily tragic losses. With 15 years of experience & practice-based knowledge regarding illness, health and supplements, I have educated and shared information with thousands of people since early 2020 to help them make their way through the virus more easily with commonly known supplement protocols. Everyone had good outcomes, because most people do. My husband, however, was the exception. He was one of the smaller percentage of people that needed at minimum, high dose steroids, strong medications, a physicians help. A physician who still stood by the Hippocratic oath to do no harm. My husband had chronic pain for decades, so when he had intense pain, his first symptom, we didn’t recognize it as something different. By the time we did, he was a few days in. We did supplements, nebulized budesonide and had some ivermectin. We needed more, but even telehealth sites only gave so much, and we ran out. Despite additional help from a local nurse practitioner, on day 8 his oxygen saturation decreased dramatically. He was adamant about not going to the hospital, thought he would be “lost and forgotten” there, and he was right. I did not know that Dr. Shankar Chetty and Dr. McCullough and Dr. Marik were giving minimum 80mg of steroids to these patients, which would have most likely kept him out of the hospital. My husband’s saturation went below 80, and despite some nasal supplemental oxygen, I had no choice but to take him in. By the time we got to the hospital, his lips were in fact, blue. That was the last time I saw him alive.
Disregarded As His Wife And Advocate
It was written in the medical records, that I, his wife, “would not be consulted on any treatment, I would just be informed.”
He was held in the ER in Culpeper Hospital, Virginia, where they put him on a bipap machine, and while his saturation improved, which is what happens when you blow oxygen into the lungs, they were not doing anything to treat him. I was locked out of the ER, was told they were doing all they could and was given no info on meds the few times I was able to speak to anyone. They promised to tell me when they found him an ICU bed. I never got any calls. I called throughout the night and finally was told of his transfer to Arlington when I called at 5am, 2 hours away from where we lived. It was 16 hours of wasted time. From the very start of his stay at Virginia Hospital Center, everything was a battle. I was always respectful, knowing that his life was in their hands. Yet, I was ridiculed, berated, strung along, and lied to. It did not matter that I spoke their medical language, or how educated I was about covid or how much I advocated or how much I tried to get in to see him. It didn’t matter that he was passed the contagious stage, or that he was a husband, father, and human. It was written in the medical records, that I, his wife, “would not be consulted on any treatment, I would just be informed.” As soon as he got there, they convinced him that ventilation was the only answer. They gave him the “ventilation is your only option and will give his lungs the rest they need” line. Records say they could not talk to me about venting because his “cell phone was dead” yet they used the hospital phone to let him talk to me for 20 seconds to essentially say our goodbyes. I tried to call back but no one would talk to me, and he was vented. He also left a heartbreaking message for my son that we didn’t know about until later that day. It was a blessing and a curse.
They predictably rejected ivermectin, fenofibrate, vitamin c no matter what real studies I discussed. He received the disgustingly anemic dose of 6 mg of dexamethasone as dictated by the NIH. Any pulmonologist or family physician has given more to children for lesser disease. My 3 year old son got a higher dose a decade ago as a breathing treatment. When I received the medical records, I was horrified at what they did not tell me. He had lacerations on his body, especially a very deep gash on his face, with a photo there for documentation. How pathetic it was that I was grateful for the photo, even as I sat there, weeks after he died, reading through his 354 pages of medical records. They had given him septic shock, acute kidney injury, encephalitis, thrombocytopenia, propofol infusion syndrome, and more. I was able to tell them no to remdesivir, but was constantly berated and debated for doing so.
Refusing The Data
“I was told ridiculous and dismissive statements.”
“Ms. Griffith, we are NOT using ivermectin.” Dr. Robert Hong, and Dr. David Kerling, speaking over me and with intense condescension. He said that sentence at least 6 times talking over me. I was in the lobby of the hospital. They would not let me in.
“I work at Walter Reed hospital, we don’t use it there, that should tell you something!” Dr. Hong.
“So you’re asking me to experiment?” Dr. Daniel Casey, his primary physician. I told him about the studies for ivermectin over remdesivir. That it was and is clear that Remdesevir, a drug that increases death, is the failed experiment, not ivermectin. Virginia is a right to try state, etc.
“The FLCCC doctors must be lying.” Dr. Daniel Casey.
“Dr’s have to be protected.” It didn’t matter that I traveled there several times and was not allowed in. Protected from what? They were already in the hospital with sick people?
“Vitamin C could greatly affect his kidneys.” Dr. Casey. Yet they gave him acute kidney injury! He said there were only a few vitamin c studies and they showed no improvement. I brought up specific examples, but I said importantly, THAT WE DID NOT NEED ANY STUDIES ON VITAMIN C AND COVID 19 BECAUSE VITAMIN C WORKS ON THE HOST…IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT VIRUS WE’RE TALKING ABOUT.
Intentions To Kill
Despite any calls I made, I had to wait each day between the hours of 4-8pm to possibly get a call from that day’s attending physician. Often there was no call and I had to chase them down. On day 7 of ventilation, Dr. Casey told me he’d consider vitamin c and would contact the pharmacy. But on day 8, he cited some inferior study where they gave an insignificant amount of vitamin c and said it didn’t reduce mortality. I realized that Dr. Casey had no intentions of doing anything. On day 9 of ventilation, October 18th, I was called at 2 pm to say that there was a cuff leak, they had to extubate and could not re-intubate or revive him. They said his “chest was hard”, as if they didn’t even touch him until that day? They could not even hold his body until I could get there. However, they were very prompt in calling less than 24 hrs. later asking when he would be picked up. The next time I saw my husband was 10 days later in a coffin. Telling our 13 year old son what happened was the worst day of my life.
A combination of negligence, arrogance and cowardice is what is truly killing people in hospitals. It is not covid. You can only claim ignorance for so long. It is so much easier to do, say, control everything when any family advocates are locked out of the hospital. Covid is a treatable condition. Virus, inflammation, clotting, with drugs for each. My husband was dead the minute I dropped him off. Had he been given a high dose of steroids immediately upon getting to Culpeper Hospital, there is an excellent chance that I would not be writing this, my son would not be without his father and best friend and we wouldn’t be adapting to an unfamiliar world without him. I will continue to speak loudly about this, but importantly, my husband was so much more than what happened to end his life. From a small town in Texas, he came from humble beginnings and overcame seemingly insurmountable struggles to create a successful career in television. Always wanting to be underestimated, he often referred to himself as a “dumb old country boy,” but he had more knowledge about anything than anyone I know. Being a father was literally and spiritually what got him up in the morning. His life was a defiance of all clichés. He was our protector, our warrior, and gave the best hugs. He will be missed forever.
