The Phoenix Project
Penny's Song: A Personal Note
Last updated Saturday, May 09, 2009 12:17 PM

In Tribute to My Wife, Penny (March 18, 1939 - May 5, 2009)

As I write this, the core of my life, my wife, lies in a Nashville hospital on life support, perhaps hours away from "going to the light" - from going home to her Creator.

The one person I love most in this world ... the person who is the catalyst for The Phoenix Project ... the one person I want to save, or at least help ... I have failed.

My Jasmine (from 'Second-Hand Lion')

We've known and been with each other for 20 years this month, except for a brief period when she was temporarily swayed and lured away by the smooth talk of another man. We've been married only since November 2006. It was her illness (two TIAs - transcient ischemic attacks - in 2005, severe rheumatoid arthritis and, finally, Alzheimer's disease, acute bronchitis and kidney infection/shutdown) that has brought this beautiful woman dancing at heaven's door.

Although I've been involved in frequency research since 1961, Penny was the catalyst that drove me into a race against time to try to apply that research to the real world of the sick and dying. I may have lost that race. I hope not!

Penny is a (retired) holistic chiropractor (she prefers the term "wholistic" - which makes more sense, when you think about it). She is a kind, gentle woman with the most beautiful smile in the world and a very loving nature. She loves hugs and touches. She loves walking, dancing, music and studying nature and natural health. She is trusting and in many ways naive. People take advantage of her goodness and her love.

Penny's Song

This site is her story, her song. She'd like you to hear it.

The First Healing Energy CD

At the same time, in desperation and hope, I played the CDs for her that I describe in these pages. The first one was created New Year's Eve 1994 with frequencies and sounds to strengthen the heart - long before her 2005 strokes. I first played it for her in late 2005, after she came home and we were married. Her blood pressure (around 170/100) medicine wasn't working and had terrible side effects.

Within 10 days after I began playing the CD for her at night, her blood pressure dropped to about 135/84 and has for the most part remained in that range - normal for someone of her age and condition. She wanted to listen to nothing but that CD - all day long - until I weaned her off it and onto a stronger diet of National Public Radio's music schedule.

Making the Rounds of the 'Specialists'

In 2009, specialist after specialist said there was nothing wrong with her, despite the fact the she started spending agonizing hours every night coughing up thick, clear mucus and hacking so hard her blood pressure reached 180/102.

She had swallowing tests, lots of chest x-rays, CRT scans, was inspected by neurologists, gastroenterologists, otolaryngologists and other words I cannot even pronounce properly. She stopped eating and drinking, despite my best efforts. Her weight, which I had been able to increase from 98 to 135 (her goal) dropped precipitously down to 102.

I tried repeatedly to get her admitted at least for observation. Time after time. Twice at Skyline Medical Center; twice at Summit Medical Center (both in Nashville). They just kept sending her home, telling her to come back in a month or two for follow-up visits that were as fruitless as the first visits. She grew weaker and weaker. They felt the problem was "in her head."

More Healing CDs - Amazing Results!

Over the previous two months I had created CDs for her for her arthritis pain, acute bronchitis and general relaxation and DNA/Chakra healing. Within two days her knee pain was gone after I played the Arthritis Symphony CD all night long (12 hours). When I played the Bronchitis Symphony, the coughing and mucus stopped within two hours. Both her occupational therapist and I were stunned at the results.

The coughing and mucus suddenly returned with a vengeance.

If I Had Only Known!

I had also created another CD (for kidney problems) for a friend who was facing kidney failure and dialysis.

Finally, on the fourth try she was admitted to Summit on Wednesday, April 15, 2009. She was diagnosed with acute kidney infection, dehydration and malnutrition from not eating or drinking. I didn't know ... or I would have played the Kidney CD for her.

In the hospital, despite my approval for a feeding tube, they tried to get her to eat solid food, then gave her drugs to increase her appetite, even though I tried to tell them that wasn't going to work. A scheduled endoscopy was postponed so more paperwork could be filled out. She became weaker and weaker.

A Night of Affection and Love

Our last conversational night together, the nurses had disconnected her saline solution (for dehydration) and her heart/blood pressure monitor. I was concerned, but they said they were trying to get her to eat and drink with the drugs. That worried me greatly! I knew it wouldn't work!

Our last lucid night together (so far, at least), she was alert, bright-eyed and smiling that angelic smile. She was cuddly and affectionate, holding and kissing, using a suction tube on her own to catch the mucus.

A friend came by to visit (the one I'd made the Kidney CD for) and as she dozed we talked quietly in the corner. Suddenly she sat up, very much herself, and crisply announced, "I haven't talked to my husband in a while." The friend left and Penny and I shared a very warm and affectionate time together. She again insisted I not try to reach her family - a brother and son (I don't even know where the son is living anymore).

As I drove home that night, a fleeting thought struck me. I had read of so many cases where someone close to death suddenly became alert and lucid, then just as suddenly relapsed and departed this world. I pushed the thought aside and, the next morning, tried to focus on work to keep my thoughts from her pain and tragedy.

The Nightmare Begins

The call from the hospital came at 12:03. They hadn't checked her in five hours (protocol requires 4). She had been found in her bed unconscious, her pulse jumping up to 200 beats a minute, her blood pressure falling to 80/40 - then dropping completely off the chart. Her kidneys were failing and they had no idea what the infectious cause was. She was being moved to Intensive Care.

I got there within minutes and watched them try to stabilize her and save her life. Three times they applied the "cardio-vert" shock pads. Three times they stabilized her. Three times she went back into a state of heart fibrillation and plunging blood pressure.

They tried three times to insert a breathing tube, only to discover a layer of tissue blocking the pathway - that "psychosomatic" problem that kept her from swallowing. Finally, they succeeded as 7-8 people gathered and hovered over her as I watched helplessly from beyond the glass.

For hours I floated between the ICU unit and the waiting room, dazed and unfeeling, as they asked me to leave ("you don't want to see this!"), then come back.

Letting Go

She lay there, in a coma, her eyes open and unseeing as I stroked her face and told her I was there and that I loved her. I told her to be strong, but that if she felt she needed to "go home" then I understood. It was between her and God and, although I'd miss the hell out of her, I had to accept and respect their decision.

She has been my "Jasmine" (if you've ever seen the movie "Second-Hand Lion") and after watching "The Notebook" we had told each other we wanted to lay down beside each other, hold each other and go home together, God willing.

But perhaps the Creator has different plans. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

Now she lays alone in a lock-down critical care unit and I sit here alone at a computer keyboard and pour my heart out and look at her picture taped to my computer ... and I wait for that phone call I dread, hoping it won't come.

She would want me to continue The Phoenix Project and has often spurred me on in my research and our shared journey of exploration and discovery. At the moment I feel less than alive, but my fingers keep racing across the keys.

And now, as I wait, they are silent.

Today, Bishop Jack Stafford admitted the last rites to Penny, as a precaution. Though she was raised Episcopalian (I think), I know she would have welcomed Bishop Stafford's presence and prayer. A Jesuit priest, "Jack" is a fascinating and intriguing man I'd love to talk to at length. Very approachable and down to earth- no pretenses!

She's a little more stable - no dreaded call in the night - and has even opened her eyes and responded to external stimuli, following directions to move her eyes right or left.

Can she see when she opens her eyes? We don't know. She's not on as many sedatives, so she's in less of a fog. She moved her hands when we spoke to her, as if she was trying to reach out and touch us, and she'd turn her head in the direction of the speaker - if we spoke loud enough to penetrate that fog.

"Nurse Gail" was very helpful - even gave me permission to bring some of the CDs I mention earlier to the hospital for Penny. I learned that Penny's vital signs had been normal at 6 am, 2 am, and 10 pm the night before. But she wasn't checked yesterday until 11 am - five hours in which her heart and blood pressure just went nuts.

I'm struck by the corporate culture I recognized, having worked in it for so long myself. The younger ones are often (not always) just there for the paycheck and are certainly afraid to be at all innovative or forthcoming without permission from the gods above.

Nurse Gail has some seniority and some wisdom and experience along with her lovely graying hair. She is what the word "nurse" means! God bless her!

At 3:50 her blood pressure was 79/64 and pulse 63. Respiratory rate was 24-46 (very erratic). At 4:20 I started the CD Player. At 4:30 her blood pressure was 93/56, and at 4:40 it was 97/61, with pulse of 63 and respiratory rate of 19 to 31. The machine is programmed to set a breathing rate of 15, so anything above that is her own effort.

By 4:50 the blood pressure (BP) is up to 110/70 with pulse (P) at 65 and respiratory rate (RR) at 17. But then, just seven minutes later BP has dropped to 99/55. It continues to be a roller coaster ride for her.

With the stress, my own BP has jumped to 169/102 - the highest it's ever been in my life. I've got to rest.

I'll pick up an inexpensive MP3 player when I leave and convert everything over to that so it will be smaller and out of the way and also give her a much longer treatment.

No one here seems to have a clue about the use of frequencies, even in the nation's major medical centers. As sophisticated as Summit looks on the surface, mentally it is still in the Stone Age of strictly pharmaceutical and surgery oriented medical care.

The roller coaster ride continues. Yesterday I discovered Penny has probably also had a stroke in those five hours she was unattended. She has not moved her left arm or leg since she was taken into the ICU.

She also seems to have developed a severe case of pneumonia in her right lung. The x-rays show it has rapidly filled with a dense white cloud.

On top of this, she has a very large, nasty-looking bruise from her knee to just above her left ankle where they tried to insert an IV in the first hours within the ICU. They couldn't seem to get into an IV into a vein in the arms. The leg bruise has formed a large blister, which broke overnight. It looks like a bad burn.

Part of the bruise is caused by the noroprenephrine, aka as levophed (sp?), a very risky drug that can easily kill, but which they said was necessary to try to keep her pulse rate down while at the same time they increased her blood pressure. She is less conscious today and less responsive.

I started the latest treatment for her. I'd been up all night working on it, incorporating virtually everything I'd produced for her so far - heart, kidney, bronchitis, plus stroke, lungs and pneumonia. I got a small MP3 player and have downloaded more than 5 hours of treatments to it.

Her oxygen intake (SPO2) is low - at about 89-90 when it should be >94. I understand she's also on prednisone (for her lung infection) and vancomycin (antibiotic).

I started the MP3 player at 1:30 when BP is 84/59, P - 65 and RR - 17. At 2:00 her BP is 107/60 P - 63 and RR - 14. BP continues to move up and down all the rest of the day I'm there (1pm - 5pm) to a low of 82/53 up to 99/60. Bladder output has increased more than 100%.

I can't say, of course, whether the frequency treatments are causing the change or not - simply not enough data and so many variables. Whether any of this will work or not I have no idea and I don't want her to continue to suffer, suspended in a nether-world between life and death.

Her bladder output today is much better, even though one doctor (not as familiar with her case since he's just a stand-in) says her kidney numbers are unchanged.

Her noroprenephrine has been cut back from 25 to 0.5 and later this evening was cut off entirely. Also known as levophed, there's a hospital/nursing home saying to the effect that "levophed will leave you dead."

After some rough periods when Penny was moved for a CT scan (no evidence there of a stroke) and a process to remove fluid from her right lung, she has made some progress. Her pulse and blood pressure (133/63 pulse of 70) are close to normal. Nearly 2 liters of a dark fluid were removed from her lung. She now has a feeding tube into her chest, apparently going into the esophagus is my guess. Her urine output is much clearer and in much greater volume, and her color is better. 

I'll also be easing up on her frequency therapy.

April 26, 2009:

They called me at 11:15 am. Today they're going to remove more fluid from her left lung - not as much there. They got about one liter out of that lung. She's resting well and all stats are looking good. I couldn't get up there but did call and got a report from the nurse on duty.

Penny started fibrillating again - pulse 185, when they tried to drain her left lung. They gave up on that idea. Urine OK.

Urine good, Candida in lungs is not albican (sp?). Pulse ranges from 66-82, BP 138/73 to 167/86. She was alert, eyes clear, and communicated by blinking once for no, twice for yes, raised her hand to hold mine.

Penny's temperature has gone up to 103.4 before finally falling back to normal. She's unresponsive and near death, her doctors say. She's had a bowel movement. The candida in her lungs is "very rare". Nurse Gail said in all her years as a nurse she's never seen anything like this.

Urine output is good and clear (slightly amber), her pulse has had its ups and down, along with blood pressure (94/60 to 119/85 when she was moved). The machine is breathing for her; she really has no need right now to try to breathe on her own.

Fentanyl increased to 100 mcg/hr. They did a lumbar puncture - no signs of candida in the spinal fluid.

A call from the hospital this morning at 10:12 (Dr. Williams, cardiologist). Penny is fibrillating and so weak he says her chances of surviving today are zero. They're going to try the shock pads one more time. No sedation, so it will be painful. I can't keep doing this to her and it's breaking my heart. She held my hand very tightly today, so I know enough of is here to know I'm here and to let me know.

Still no word on the candida infection, now in both lungs. He mentioned cryptococcus. Immune system breakdown. Acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS).

My love, into God's hands I place you, and I hope we meet again very soon. I love you!

Today, Dr. Esbenshade, Penny's pulmonologist, called about 11 am and, in essence, said that Penny appeared to have a torn esophagus, possibly the result of the problems inserting the breathing tube when she was first moved to the ICU. "That's bad news," he said, sandwiched in among the medical jargon I couldn't understand. He discovered the lacerated esophagus when trying to drain more fluid from her right lung.

CT Scans taken April 25th show the hole, but they were overlooked by the doctors.

After consultation with the doctors, who said she had only a 2-5% of even surviving the surgery - IF she survived the trip to Vanderbilt or Centennial Medical Center, I reached the agonizing decision to take Penny off life support tomorrow sometime after 1 p.m. Friends will gather for her "Homecoming Celebration" and she'll go home to dance with the angels.

She is having an immune breakdown, with a 101-degree fever and acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS). Her lungs and blood are both filled with some rapidly-growing, mysterious infection ("cryptococcus" whatever that is), her heart grows weaker, her urine and stools are filling with blood.

They took her upstairs to die in room 606.

Still, she fights on. Her pulse is normal, as is her blood pressure, respiration and oxygen intake. But she's been shuffled off to a room with no monitoring, just a morphine drip. The records list Penny as being very sensitive to morphine - she goes crazy on morphine. I asked Dr. Fernandez for the minimum, slow drip to keep her out of pain.

She lay there with no morphine for an hour or so (there weren't even any chairs in the room!). I felt like we'd been stuffed into a supply closet and ignored. When I asked about the morphine drip, I was told "we don't have any machines here for that." I became angry and said, "Well, why not? You knew she was coming up here - why didn't you have the equipment ready? What kind of planning is that?"

So she injects a massive dose of morphine right into her IV. I cringed. When I asked Dr. Fernandez how often Penny had been checked the last time she was on this floor, he said, "I can't tell you that."

That was the last straw. "Well, maybe you can tell it to a g----m judge!"

Today, as her hours wind down, I found a rack of protective suits, masks and gloves on the door. She has been quarantined for all practical purposes, due to VRE (Vaccine-Resistant Entero-coccus). This is an infection you get in the hospital; she didn't have it before. And this is what is slowly killing her as she burns up with fever.

Next to MRSA (vaccine-resistant staph) it's the second-worst killer in hospitals and infects about 100,000 people a year. It's caused by dirty equipment, doctors who wash their scrubs only every week or every month (nowadays the hospitals usually make staff wash their own laundry), and targets patients with weakened immune systems.

Why did they never check for that in the first place - instead of going off on a wild goose chase for some "yeast" that didn't exist?

These last four days have been a long, drawn-out fog, but it ended peacefully in the early morning hours. I've been sleeping at her side or sitting beside her until the end. As her breathing grew shallower, I braced myself, expecting it to end during the night ... and it did.

Something woke me up at 3 and I could no longer hear her short, raspy breaths. I looked at her and touched the face I've come to love so much. It was warm, sweaty. But there was no pulse. I kissed her and talked with her, wishing her Godspeed on her journey and her new adventure. I left at 3:30, after a doctor pronounced her dead.

Penny was in the arms of the angels. Her candle burned out long before the flame ever did.

Even in death, the insults and insanity continue. While I was sitting at home with two friends, a young man called from Summit Hospital asking to speak to Penny. He was conducting a "customer satisfaction survey" and wanted to ask her some questions about how pleased she was with the hospital's service. I couldn't believe I was hearing right and asked him to repeat it.

A memorial service will be held at 10 am, May 18 at a small Catholic chapel not far from the house.

Last updated Saturday, May 09, 2009 12:17 PM
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