Mary Manders’ Story of Survival

I have a confession to make: For a long time now, I’ve been flooded with a myriad of thoughts, feelings, and emotions about speaking here tonight. I’ve prayed daily, asking the Lord what my purpose or role should be in this sharing of my story  because truth be told, I’ve always been a keep to myself, behind the scenes kind of person. I lead a quiet life outside of this type of activism or influence. Frankly, I feel way outside my league and comfort zone in speaking, convincing, or changing anyone’s mind by telling what happened to me two years ago in a place where the expectation was“to do no harm”.

Not in my wildest dreams did I think hospitals were not a place to go to heal and be given safe care at the most vulnerable time in my life. I trusted them, but instead my eyes have been forced open, and I’ve found myself reevaluating the medical establishment and their role in this corruption, and in doing so, it seems the Lord had other plans as well.

I’ve been hurled into an avalanche of stories similar to mine, and have joined the ongoing force of many people’s stories of hospital treatment gone wrong – stories where isolation, fear, and imminent death lurked around every corner under the guise of medical treatment. Ultimately, this is a story of how standard medical treatments were overtly ignored and pushed aside, and then replaced with harmful drugs and protocols whose primary purpose was to lead to deadly ventilation and unorthodox, sometimes inhumane treatment and procedures done for profits, which then were hidden and covered up in the shadows of hospital protocols.

This is my story, but it can easily be one of the many thousands of untold stories of people placed under Covid hospital protocols, because the commonalities in all of our cases are just too astounding to ignore. Unfortunately, too few lived to tell about it. But there is a growing surge of unrest and outrage rising among us – those who lived through it, and the loved ones of those who were killed by deadly hospital protocols. Mine is just one survivor’s story.

My story begins with a little background. As an advocate of the unborn and the protection of all human life, I could not in good conscience receive any of the so called Covid “vaccines”, which are produced with live fetal cell lines and other harmful substances. So with firm religious conviction, I remain unvaccinated. First and foremost, that is my reason, notwithstanding all of the scientific evidence of its ineffectiveness and the harm it inflicts.

And so, I began this journey as an unvaccinated 62 year old female in excellent medical condition – a former college athlete who worked out nearly every day of my adult life. I was never seriously ill or on any medications.

On January 7, 2022, I was on day 8 of feeling ill with bone crushing fatigue and weakness with flu symptoms when I was brought to urgent care thinking I would get hydration through an IV – but instead, I was forced to take a Covid test, which of course, came back positive.

I immediately was told I was going to die, and like someone with leprosy, I was sequestered, isolated, and rushed urgently to Regions Hospital by ambulance to be admitted. (My SPO2 blood oxygen levels were still in the low 90s – so I was definitely not near death).

When I arrived at the hospital, they initially wouldn’t admit me because my SPO2 levels were not low enough, but they also refused to let me go home, telling me I was seriously ill and wouldn’t survive. They made me walk the hallways while wearing a mask, in attempts to lower my SPO2 levels enough for admission.

Once admitted, I knew enough to refuse their attempts to give me Remdesivir and put me on the ventilator – and when I asked, they refused to give me antivirals (Ivermectin, Hydroxychloroquine) and antibiotics for being “unwarranted”.

Soon, days passed, and even though the expectation was that I would go home within a couple of days, I was instead isolated to the Covid ward where I was heavily drugged with several different hard narcotics, tied down, allowed no visits by anyone except the hospital chaplain, was given minimal hydration or nutrition to the point of being “critically and severely dehydrated and malnourished” as was written in my hospital medical chart.

They seldom brought me food, and I was also unable to feed myself because I was tied down, masked with high flow oxygen, and too drugged with narcotics to do so. The dehydration and starvation recorded in my charts, however, was blamed on me – it was written in the nursing reports as “patient refuses…”.

My husband repeatedly called the hospital with requests for me to be given an IV, a nutritionist, a feeding tube, vitamins, antivirals such as Ivermectin, anti-inflammatories, and antibiotics, etc. All requests were rejected as being “unwarranted”.

 Perhaps what is unusual about my story is that my husband could see through my online medical charts, in real time, every doctor and nurse report, every vital sign logged, every procedure performed, every test and scan result written, and every drug administered during my hospital stay. Although he could see what was happening to me, he was helpless to do anything about it, and his concerns and requests were rejected every step of the way.

Nobody was allowed into the hospital to see me for the first 28 days – not my husband, children, or anybody else, under the threat of being arrested – not even our priests. I was drugged, isolated, and tied down with no one to advocate for me. The only life line and window as to what was happening to me, besides my husband’s access to my online medical charts, were some angel hospital workers who would occasionally connect me to my husband by plugging in my cell phone so that he and my children were, at intermittent periods, able to get through on FaceTime on and off throughout my stay. Most of the time though, my phone was unplugged and placed outside of my reach – and by this point anyway, I was too weak to even lift my phone.

During this crucial, vulnerable time, instead of pursuing standard treatments alongside hydration, nutrition, anti-inflammatories, antibiotics, and anti-virals, the hospital instead administered even more narcotics because I had excruciating back pain from them physically and improperly forcing me into various “proning” positions – narcotics, which by the way, further suppress lung function.

Within two weeks, my body weight plummeted from 117lbs to 89lbs, all while under hospital care, due to minimal food or hydration because the hospital protocols demanded this. It doesn’t take even a modicum of common sense to know that life cannot exist without hydration and nutrition, and yet the denial of this was part of the new unwritten protocols, which prior to Covid, was not the normal standard of care for anyone, let alone someone with pneumonia.

After two weeks of this mistreatment in the hospital, I was declared dead, had kidney failure, liver failure, lung failure, septal infarction-heart attack, severe heart tricuspid valve leakage, brachial branch bundle blockage, stroke, massive blood clot, sepsis, virulent infections only contracted in hospitals, and many other things. My once healthy body was driven to near death in just 2 short weeks under these Covid protocols.

At this point, it was clear to my family that the only way I was going to be given a feeding tube and hydration was if I was ventilated (up until that time, I had vehemently refused ventilation). However by this time my family had witnessed first-hand (through my medical charts) that going without food or hydration for so long had eventually shut down my organs, and I was in the groans of death.

This began a heated power struggle with hospital personnel, because now, the hospital refused even to ventilate me, and they told my family over the phone that I was “really already dead” and to just let it happen. At that point, my husband and children, which purely by divine providence happened to be on FaceTime with me at 2am, requested, begged, and demanded that the hospital take whatever measures were necessary to save my life – including ventilation – just two short weeks ago I was a very healthy 62 year old with absolutely no health issues. The doctors hung up on my family, and they were left with no response, hanging in the lurch, without any communication from the hospital.

My family remained panicked and in a state of shock as to what had happened in those overnight hours – not knowing if I was dead or alive. Finally, later that morning, they read in my online charts that the hospital had intubated me, and I was connected to a ventilator, but I probably would not survive.

Many suspicious things happened during my hospital stay, but this particular night, the night I was intubated and put on the ventilator, seems to stand out as highly irregular behavior on the part of hospital personnel. It indicates they were motivated to reduce my oxygen levels enough to force ventilation, or to just let me die.

In the six overnight hours prior to when I was put on a ventilator, the hospital staff suspiciously moved me out of intensive care, and then into 3 different rooms, for no reason – later, they claimed it was so that I would receive “better care”, even though the nurse in the 3rd room was infuriated and screamed at me that she didn’t have time to come into my room because she had “about 10 other patients”. So strangely enough, I went from 1 to 1 care in the ICU, to 1 to 10 care that eerie night, and yet, that is what they said qualified as better care.

Even more suspicious, each time I was moved to a different room that night, my SPO2 (blood oxygen) levels would drop significantly, and they continued to drop throughout the evening (this was witnessed by my husband constantly viewing my online medical records and reading my vitals in real time).

The drops in my oxygen levels timed up so perfectly with each move that we’ve concluded they must’ve been turning down my oxygen supply as I arrived at each different room in an effort to absolutely require ventilation – for the previous two weeks, my oxygen levels had been consistently stable. While my husband was miraculously still connected with me over Facetime that night, he questioned the nurse as to why my blood oxygen levels were dropping all of a sudden. She ignored my husband, but then my family witnessed the nurse scolding me, “If you want your oxygen levels up, then you’d just better get intubated!” My husband and 3 of our adult children were all shocked to hear the nurse shouting this at me. Thankfully, they’d remained connected on a FaceTime call with me that entire evening. Again, looking back, this is suspicious evidence that their goal all along was intubation and ventilation.

Many other things happened to me, but after 15 days of being on the ventilator, they removed it, and I was breathing on my own and thriving for 20 hours until they decided to intubate and ventilate me a second time for 6 additional days for a total of 21 days of intubation and ventilation.

The official reason given for my second ventilation was “fear of aspiration” – even though the respiratory therapist who had originally removed me from the ventilator, and who was monitoring my progress only hours before, had told my husband that he was shocked that the hospital had reintubated me because I was doing so well – which again is another sign of suspicious agendas being played out.

They also at that time performed several surgeries on me – a tracheostomy into my throat, a PEG feeding tube directly through my abdomen and into my stomach and intestines, and a cage implanted into a vein in my abdomen to hold back the enormous blood clot which had formed due to not being given therapeutic levels of blood thinners. All of these procedures were performed dangerously late in terms of the help they were supposed to provide, which again was a hospital tactic my husband noticed over and over.

He would bring up certain test results, ask questions, and pose alternative treatments that he had researched – many were recommended by outside doctors and nurses he was continually consulting with. But the hospital would decline and overtly withhold well known standard treatments of care. In hindsight, we could see the premeditated script of protocol driven treatment instead of standard outcome treatment being played out, and the covert manipulation which is apparent when you listen to story after story of these hospital narratives.

Through all of this, I was continually shamed and shunned for not being “vaccinated” (it was the first thing listed at the top of my records, right after my name). They even tried to schedule me to be vaccinated under the threat of not admitting me for therapy – therapy which was a requirement to be completed before they would release me from the hospital. However, after repeated attempts by them trying to talk me into getting the so called vaccine, I consistently refused and I remain unvaccinated today.

I was finally discharged after 52 days in Regions Hospital, and by the grace of God, and the prayers of many, I miraculously survived, and I’m still miraculously recovering.

I continue to undergo rigorous therapy and exercise sessions daily. My lungs are permanently scarred and damaged (most likely, from the ventilator), so I also have to use a nebulizer to help me cough out lung secretions many times each day. I’m told that I must do this for the rest of my life.

One thing I want to emphasize is that it was not Covid that almost took my life, but the hospital protocols which kept me in isolation from my loved ones, and starved and dehydrated me, along with the hospital refusing to administer any antiviral medications or antibiotics. And yet, the hospital acted in lockstep fashion, and was paid handsomely every step of the way by our government with incentives to maximize profits – motivating the continuation of these draconian measures.

This is my story, or rather, an unveiling of truth of medical mismanagement linked to Covid that is still happening today in hospitals around the country. Many questions remain, and unfortunately, critical answers are not given.

We live in the United States of America, but this feels more like a totalitarian medical dictatorship. We need answers to why people on their deathbeds are being denied access to life saving basic treatments such as hydration and nutrition. Why does it seem that the people who are supposed to be protecting us are pushing harmful drugs like Remdesivir, inciting fear, and purposely trying to cover up and deny medicine that works in order to railroad us into mass “vaccinations”? Ivermectin has been proven to be the cure during all phases of the disease, yet it remains impossible to get in hospitals.

The meta-analysis on Ivermectin states that there are currently 81 studies, 61 of which are peer reviewed, and 33 randomly controlled trials, proving its effectiveness. It’s FDA approved, and it’s been used safely around the world for decades. In 2015, its inventor won the Nobel prize. It’s inexpensive and widely available, and there is far more science behind it than any other drug for Covid. 

Yet, the hospitals refuse to dispense Ivermectin, and it remains politically taboo, and the mainstream media is misleading people into thinking it isn’t safe for humans, and that it’s ineffective.

I could no longer remain silent, and therefore chose to follow The Lord’s call to be a participant in fighting for reliable, proper treatments that our government agencies seem to be suppressing – and to unveil the truth of medical mismanagement that is still happening today in hospitals around the country.

My prayer is that each time someone sheds light on this darkness, and with each ripple of truth exposed, justice can be exacted, and this tyranny and madness can end. My heart truly aches and goes out to those who have suffered from these deadly hospital protocols.

In conclusion, I just want to say I am grateful to God for sparing my life – may he be glorified through all of this suffering. I’m thankful to my husband for fighting for me every step of the way, and for the many who lifted me up in prayer, for all of the hospital workers who had the courage and refused to go along with the protocols, and for Covid Justice MN for being the real heroes in bringing light to these stories, advocating for the truth, and providing support for families who have lived through the horrific abuse, trauma, and loss from these injustices by the medical establishment. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my story.