LaMar “Chuck” Hammel

LaMar “Chuck” Hammel – Warminster, PA
Died: September 9th, 2021
Shore Memorial Hospital – Somers Point, NJ

Chuck’s story is being told by his long time companion, Erin Gardner. Chuck was active in his church activities and specialized in fixing personal computers which he enjoyed doing. Chuck was also in the Young Marine’s Organization out of Willow Grove Naval Air Station. Chuck is survived by his parents, Erin Gardner, and his son David.


Week prior; we went to palmerton, PA for my niece’s engagement party. Saw

My sister, brother in law nieces and nephews and others. My sister said my brother in law came down with covid. We were fine until Tuesday 8/31 – a big day loaded with crazy storms. Headache that didn’t quit. I was still working, he was unemployed, so I let him sleep. He was doing as well as I was, I worked the week by rested on lunch and breaks. Friday was the day to go to the shore. He was “ok” but I asked him a bunch of times, if you don’t feel right, we can cancel. He wanted to go. We even had to return back to the house to get his wallet. It could have been a sign. This was the weekend following the storms that flooded vine street in Philly, so I took another route to the seashore. He started to cough again, and when we arrived at Wawa, I said we can’t have you come into the hotel room like this, should we go back?

We spent much of the time in the hotel room. I hoped he would feel better to get up for the beach the next day. Spent all Saturday and Sunday, but he wasn’t improving. Finally resigned myself that he should see somebody. He took a shower and we went to urgent care. Was treated kindly there but his pulse ox was bad. He needs to go to ER. Here’s where it goes down. Shore memorial, Somers point just outside of OC. My cousin worked there as a nurse 50 years ago. Ok, ER, check in, paperwork etc. waiting for the er nurse to call him.

Evil is absolutely present. I saw it. He was too sick to notice it, but I did.

This is the Sunday pm, before Labor Day. This *^%# sat him in a chair to weigh him and check his vitals- which we knew were not good.

Think Burger King and HIPAA violations.

Ok, so *loudly* and obnoxiously… she yells “HEY, DEAD MAN WALKING… this one got the covid!” “And you have it too…” motioning to me. I feel like I just got slapped. Hello! I tried for some small talk but she ignored me. She leads him over to the wheel chair which has an oxygen tank on it, his back is to me, still wearing the flyers sweat jacket. She puts the cannula on him and raises the gas. She hollers again. “SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR WIFE!!!”

I never see him again. No goodbye, she rolled him away from me.

I go home, after packing the room… clothes, food, toiletries. I get a shower. I CANT SMELL THE SOAP!!!

The dr said to bring his CPAP, so I come in next day and drop it off. He was on a bi-pap then. Weird weird presence when I drop it at the desk. Half of me wants to run to the elevator and find his room. He had never texted me back, or called me the entire time he was there.

I drove home back to PA, in a stony silence. I don’t call anyone, just my son, who is also feeling unwell. We figure on having to get a test. I’m still not feeling great either, but we announce to our jobs, we have had exposure. Friends say hydrate, rest, have vitamins etc. Chuck is still touch and go. I was in a fog, because I didn’t know if remdesivir was good or bad. It’s bad, and it didn’t help him. We know now it’s meant to kill. His pulse ox was not great but better… and I was hopeful he would pull through. I asked for HCQ and ivermectin, and the doctor laughed at me. There’s that fricken laugh again. If I were not so sick, I would have screamed at him. His parents didn’t understand the danger. They thought he was being well taken care of. He had a heart attack overnight, I think Monday into Tuesday

And was placed on the vent. I was sleeping but had a very disturbing dream… like snow on a tv screen… and SCREAMS… that’s Chuck, I know it was.

Now he’s stuck in a room, no visitors, no family, no communication and coma and vent. Disgusting. I am feeling helpless. I call on my friend who knows remote reiki, and asked her to find Chuck in this room in this town, and help him. The doctor was already saying he wasn’t going to make it. “It’s not a matter of if he will have another heart attack, but when.” This is lining up the family to prepare for his eventual passing. If there was more time, and I wasn’t so gobsmacked I would have hollered more. That’s what they want. More sadness to feed the power. More despair that he was going to leave. So, I send Pam. “Please tell him we love him, and don’t give up without a fight. But if you (he) finds that he is in a bad place and cannot get out, RUN TO JESUS. “

She reikied his poor lungs and heart but he was taken off the line the next day and passed away. 9/9/2021 at 3:47. We (my son and I) got our positive result at noon, Chuck was off the vent and passed quickly just before 4. I can’t cry. I can’t speak. I have to tell my son, he’s not coming back. (27, Aspergers). Even if I went after them for the treatment in the ER, you don’t treat anyone like that unless you have an agenda and do not care.


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Tom Soisson

Tom Soisson
Died: December 16th, 2021
UPMC Presbyterian – Pittsburgh, PA

Mr Soisson’s story is being told by his wife, Amelia Soisson. Tom’s story isn’t like the others we’ve shared here so far. His story stems back to 2016 and just goes to show the corruption and poor treatment has been happening long before COVID. Sadly, Tom did pass away with COVID in December at a different hospital. This story details his time within the UPMC health system.


When Obama was president and they were creating the Healthcare act there was discussion of a “death panel”. It never amounted to much but I remember thinking how frightening that possibility was: someone deciding if you were worth the effort of keeping alive!

Today, I believe UPMC is part of that death panel. The arrogant gods of pseudo ,heartless medicine tried to kill my husband several times. They overdosed him on diabetes meds and never took responsibility. The sent him home from the hospital many times near death as If that were ok. He trusted his doctors so much. They had saved his life with a heart transplant and he was grateful. However it felt to him and me that they were getting tired of his many trips to the ER until finally they called me in and told me he had days to weeks to live.

I looked around his room not recognizing any of the doctors. They were young and full of themselves, making grand statements like, “he’ll never leave the hospital, he’s in renal failure, it’s not worth starting dialysis, it’s too late, his liver is failing and he has heart failure”(which was not true at all). They pumped him full of drugs that made him hallucinate then said he had dementia. They didn’t put him in bed to sleep so he developed bed sores. They would not allow anyone to feed him, or give him liquids as he had suddenly developed a “swallowing issue” (not true). That man loved to eat and they were starving him. He was so parched that after about a week his tongue literally exploded into pieces and a poor aide had to scrape it all out of his mouth. He was still coughing it up when we got him home.

One young female doctor literally hunted me down at my place of work to remind me not to feed him or give him liquids. I lost my mind!! “You said he is dying so what difference does it make?”

We sadly took him home so he could die surrounded by the people who cared about him. After a few weeks of Family Hospice’s occasional visits the nurse asked us “What are we doing here anyway?

I told them, “I have no idea”

My daughter had refused not to give him liquid. We gave him pudding and soup. We checked his blood sugar and kept it in line. All the while he had none of his “life saving” anti- rejection meds.

One morning I came down the stairs afraid of what I might find and an odor hit me that I vividly recognized as the odor that comes when a fever from the flu breaks. I turned the corner and there he was, soaked and shivering. I cleaned him, changed him, cleaned the bed, tucked him back in and went to work.

That day my daughter sent me a photo of him sitting on the back porch in his wheelchair enjoying the outdoors. I knew he was not going to die. Slowly but surely he got so much better. I didn’t want him to go back on the anti rejection meds because I believed his body had purged that poison from his system and that was why he was getting better. We took him to the VA where they took very good care of him but because of his heart transplant eventually had to go back to UPMC. I was devastated. He went back on the meds that Iwas sure were killing him.

Trust me, others know someone who had something similar happen to them. My husband died last December from Covid.,almost five years after the UPMC nightmare. I remember thinking upmc must be relieved.

We are not as safe as we think under a doctor’s care, esp. the younger ones. Be diligent. Get second opinions. Read and research. Trust the pharmacist when it comes to meds, not the doctors who were solicited by drug companies to promote their meds.


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Larry Colangelo

Larry Colangelo – Vintondale, PA
Died: September 1st, 2021
UPMC Altoona – Altoona, PA

Larry’s story is being told by his surviving wife, Susan Colangelo. Owner/ Operator of L & J Oil Field Services and Apollo Resources, LLC along with his wife Susan. Larry enjoyed spending time with his family and fishing with his grandchildren.


We both were taken to Altoona UPMC hospital by ambulance on Aug. 8th. I was deathly ill my husband wasn’t as bad. We were admitted. When I arrived they immediately told me I might have to be vented. My husband test positive and so did I. They put us in the same room. We insisted upon it. They put us on IVs not sure what they put in us till 5 days later they just said they were treating us for covid. I knew they gave me Doxycycline steroids later after 5 day remdesivir, oxygen and puffers.

They told me I had covid pneumonia. Larry didn’t have pneumonia just covid. He could breathe that little tool they tell you to breathe into to the top me it just juggled. He could do this till they vented him. He was going down after 5 days they had to put him on high flower hot air. While he was on that the first night it ran out of water and our buzzers didn’t work right it was burning his lungs I was screaming for someone to help him . They were like it’s no big deal.

Larry only received steroids a Z-pack by pill and another antibiotic by pill . No puffers . They had him use another mask to breathe in along with the high flow hot air vent. I begged the doctors to give him Hydroxychloroquine, vitamin c d etc. Told me he couldn’t it was against hospital policy. They wanted him to go on a cpap machine he couldn’t handle the mask. I told them I will get a different mask and bring it in so he wouldn’t feel like he wasn’t suffocating and claustrophobic. They said no that was not their policy they refused. Meanwhile during this whole time he is up going to the bathroom etc. I can’t even barely get off the bed he is up and down and trying to lay on his side etc. His one mask kept falling on the floor where he would look at me roll his eyes and use the handy wipes from dinner to clean it.

My son contacted Front-line doctors and ordered ivermectin etc. By this time they said he had sugar. I asked when were we to get remdesivir they said we already did. Now they are giving him insulin. Still no improvement on breathing not offering anything different. No puffers until the day before they vented him . They put him off the cpap before they had his oxygen ready he was soo pissed..They said I was good to go home on oxygen but I refused I was afraid to leave him. They gave him morphine so he could handle wearing the cpap. It was awful he got worse. He was still getting up going to the bathroom. No IVs being used not liquids to keep him hydrated all he wanted was ice chips to cool him off and he kept saying he was so thirsty.

They took his blood on the 24th doctors came in at 8 told him he had carbon monoxide poisoning and he needed to be vented I said no you need to give him ivermectin no I kept saying Larry was waving me to be quiet it was OK. They told me to kiss him good bye then they knocked him out and took him to ICU where they said both lobes of his lungs had bacterial pneumonia and covid. I said they why wasn’t he given Doxycycline before the whole time they said he didn’t have pneumonia. Then they had to put him on dialysis his liver failed kidneys lung collapsed and he fibrillated. He died a week later from being vented.

We called with iv instructions on what we wanted administered they said no of that would work that was against their covid protocol. We said we have a right to try. You gave him an experimental drug remdesivir . He was dying they refused said they tried these things in the past didn’t work .said we were crazy to give him a drug used for horses . Etc.

I can seem to locate a good attorney willing to fight them. This is exactly 100% what they are doing they are killing people for money. I have all his records every note . I also know a lot of people are dying from their covid protocol. Remdesivir, Ivermectin and another drug was approved for use in July 2021. It’s on a government website. I have a copy of it. Also a memo stating that Medicare would give 2500 bonuses for the use of remdesivir. This is also on a government website.


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Keith Smith

Keith Smith – York, PA
Died: December 12th, 2021
UPMC Memorial – York, PA

Keith’s story is told by his wife, Darla Smith. This is her account and experience with UPMC Memorial Hospital of York, PA.


On December 12, 2021, I lost my beloved husband at UPMC Memorial in York, PA. My sons lost the best father imaginable. My husband’s workplace lost a mentor, a friend, a brilliant engineer, and a work horse. The York PA community lost a Rotarian, a philanthropist, a community supporter, and a kind and loving neighbor.

We all LOST, and it sucks mightily. But you know who didn’t lose a dang thing?

UPMC Memorial.

They got another cash cow Covid patient, intubated, drugged beyond belief, now lifeless in their cursed ICU. Let the bodies continue to stack up, UPMC, and the cash continue to flow into your coffers.

Yes, I’m furious.

Our entire family caught Covid (likely the Delta variant) in mid-November 2021. For my sons and I, it presented as an extremely annoying flu that obliterated my sense of smell and taste. We all had persistent, low-grade fevers for about 10 days.

My husband, Keith, fared much worse. I don’t know why. He was healthy, not overweight, had no issues with co-morbidity, no diabetes, had never smoked, was a very light drinker (an occasional beer), ate well, and was active.

On November 19th, he awakened after a horrible night and pointed to some blood-colored liquid that he had coughed up. “Get in the car, we are going to the hospital,” was my fateful response. I took him to UPMC Memorial because it is five minutes from our home.

His intake at UPMC caused raised eyebrows for multiple reasons. I dropped him off at the ER and he walked in, told them he had Covid, and they immediately put a pulse-ox on him. By the time I parked and came in, a group of personnel was quizzically re-running his oxygen level, thinking the machine was malfunctioning.

His oxygen was in the 30s. My girlfriends that are in medicine tell me it is utterly insane that he was able to walk, talk, and function with oxygen levels that low.

The nurses also seemed surprised that he didn’t take any medications – just vitamins, fish oil, and eye drops for dry eye. I’m telling you; the man was crazy healthy.

From the moment we entered that facility, the word “intubation” flew from the lips of the staff. Intubate, intubate, intubate.

And my precious husband’s response every time was NO. He made it clear that he didn’t want to be intubated.

Initially, Keith couldn’t get into the ICU as there were no open beds. Finally, the evening of November 20th, they ushered him to the ICU. I tagged along but was quickly banished when they realized that I was on the tail end of my battle with Covid. They wouldn’t let me back in for several days, because of needing to quarantine.

Before I was kicked out of the hospital, we reiterated, yet again, that he did NOT want to be intubated. Then I asked about the possibility of Keith receiving ivermectin as a therapeutic. The nurse practitioner, Jared, hemmed and hawed a bit saying it wasn’t an approved drug, blah blah.

That night was the last time I heard my husband’s voice.

About 12:30 AM on the 21st, Jared the nurse practitioner called me. They had moved Keith in his bed and his oxygen had plummeted into the 30s and he was having difficulty breathing. The red-hot push to intubate commenced. We Facetimed so I could see Keith as he struggled. He was understandably frightened. He reiterated he didn’t want to be intubated but was scared enough that he wanted to discuss it with me.

I didn’t know what to do. UPMC was telling me that intubation was the only option for survival. They hammered us with it. Pounded it into our collective skulls. We finally made the reluctant decision to allow them to put Keith on a ventilator. I had his family Facetime with him so that they could see him and speak with him as well. They were reluctant to have him intubated also, but after UPMCs magical mind tricks, they also acquiesced.

I thought that was the worst night of our family’s life. But wait! There’s more! It can always get worse, folks.

The ICU is a strange wasteland. This was my first exposure to how ICUs operate. For every “treatment” they shoved into him, a resulting problem would arise. Fix one issue, break something else. It’s like sticking your finger into a levee to try and stop a leak. You might stop the flow of water where your finger is, but 10 more leaks will spring elsewhere.

The day after they intubated Keith, I read a story about a man in Illinois who had Covid and was on a ventilator and doing terribly, until his daughter sued the hospital for the right to administer ivermectin to him. He got the ivermectin. He ended up surviving and leaving that ICU.

Upon reading this story, the hair stood up on my neck and I felt like a searing poker had been jammed into my back. It’s like someone (God?) (Satan?) (I honestly do not know at this point) was telling me – CONTACT THAT LAWYER AND GET THIS FOR KEITH.

So, I did.

We filed suit the week of Thanksgiving, getting a court date via Zoom on Monday, November 29th. The judge took his sweet, ever-loving time coming to a decision. He released the order in the late afternoon of Friday, December 3rd.

In the meantime, the court documents were accessed by a local reporter in York, and he wrote a story that, for reasons that I cannot fathom, went nationwide. I was on the phone with my boss and a girlfriend of mine from the Philly area texted me a Yahoo News article with my face on it. I nearly fell out of my chair in shock.

Following receipt of the court order, I had to find an RN that would be willing to administer the ivermectin to Keith. I began a frantic search for that special RN . . . even knocking on neighbor’s doors, calling my church (which is no longer my church) and being told it was inappropriate for me to ask for that help (I mean, why would anyone think to ask for help from the church community – absurd, I say!) and texting or calling every person I could think of with medical connections.

The feelers went out rapidly in full force and we got results. PA State Rep Dawn Keefer connected me with a New Doc. New Doc is a brilliant force of nature with more courage in her wee pinky finger than all the worthless preachers in PA combined.

New Doc quickly introduced me to Pitbull RN. Pitbull RN is a fearless superwoman, and I am in awe of her drive, tenacity, and skill. She agreed to help me give Keith the ivermectin. The clock was ticking, and Keith’s survival was at stake.

Saturday December 4th is a day I will never forget. I won’t go into the nitty gritty details, but the summary is this:

UPMC is run by unscrupulous ghouls who purposefully denied execution of a legal and binding court order because they are terrified of alternate, inexpensive, therapeutic drugs like ivermectin. They were willing to face contempt of court charges. They unethically contacted me directly, multiple times, knowing full well that I had legal representation, and they threatened, bullied, harassed, and intimidated me during a 12-hour standoff in the ICU. They gaslighted me repeatedly, their forked tongues spitting out lies.

Did I mention I signed a waiver that absolved them of any liability involving ivermectin? I did. They had nothing to lose, while Keith and my family had everything to lose.

They called the cops on me. Because I’m this terrifying 51-year-old woman, right? Soooo scary and dangerous, sitting calmly in the room, explaining to UPMC that no, I am not going to leave and yes, you are in contempt of court.

The cops showed up, looked at the court order, said it was a civil matter, not criminal, and left.

The result of that terrible, awful, no-good day was this: Keith was denied the drug he was legally supposed to receive. One more day ticked down on the clock. A day that could have saved him.

The next day, Sunday, December 5th, a group of supporters held a peaceful protest at UPMC. The cops were summoned, yet again, because of the terrifying, middle-aged people calmly exercising their free speech rights. The cops eyeballed the well-behaved group, yawned, and drove off. Fox 43 showed up and interviewed people, shining a spotlight on UPMC’s nasty shenanigans.

We tried to administer the ivermectin again on Sunday and were denied, denied, denied up until the very last second. Then, miraculously, we were able to give Keith the dosage, as a host of ICU personnel watched us through the window. (Upon perusing my husband’s medical notes, I discovered that this heavy surveillance was at the direction of the head of the hospital administration.)

Multiple people reached out through friends of friends, anonymously warning me that UPMC was furious that I had challenged them in court and won. Apparently, questioning UPMC is not allowed. They all told me variations of the same message: Watch your husband like a hawk. They will not let him survive.

After the initial ivermectin dose, Keith outwardly improved. He looked so much better. I was elated – it was working! We got the second dose into him too. Praise God, right? My husband was going to beat Covid, beat UPMC, beat the odds!

Keith endured a three-week struggle in that ICU with that cursed tube shoved into his esophagus. He fought valiantly as UPMC’s inflexible, rigid “protocols” sank his body into utter torture.

We were not able to give the final, third ivermectin dose to Keith. One of the leading ivermectin experts in the world was consulted by New Doc. The harsh drugs that UPMC pumped into Keith’s body had taken a massive toll on his organs. When the consulting expert looked at the tests and bloodwork, he advised against the third dose.

That’s when I knew it was over.

When I went into the ICU on Sunday December 12th and saw Keith’s feet, my heart sank. They looked like the feet of a corpse. His lung had collapsed, he was in renal and liver failure. I looked at the nurse, and said, “Should I call my sons?” His sad gaze locked with mine and he nodded reluctantly.

Our family had conversations with Keith, separately and together as a unit. We said our goodbyes. We Facetimed with my family and Keith’s family. We sobbed as our hearts broke into bits.

What’s so crazy is that I kept my faith until the very bitter end. They extubated Keith and finally got that godforsaken tube OUT OF HIM. He gasped for a bit. I frantically asked one of the nurses to give him oxygen, and she did. I thought, “This is it, God. THIS is when you work your miracle!”

Nope.

Every day I was in that ICU talking to him nonstop, but I never had the pleasure of hearing his voice again, having him look me in the eyes, squeeze my hand, or see his sweet smile again. From the moment they intubated him, he was in a medically induced coma. They pumped drug upon drug upon drug into him. I told them repeatedly that I wanted him weaned off the sedatives. I wanted him off that ventilator.

My son visited Keith the day before he died and overheard some nurses discussing my husband. Apparently, earlier that day, Keith had opened his eyes and looked around the room. Thanks to Covid, I was limited to 2 visiting hours a day, although some of the Angel Nurses let me stretch it to 4 hours (thank you for that, Angel Nurses.)

If only I had been there when he opened his eyes! I would have screamed and yelled and flailed my arms like a mental patient. Anything to keep him awake and aware.

It was not to be.

The messaging from former and current UPMC employees is eerily consistent. They tell me UPMC does not care about its employees, they regularly understaff and overwork the nurses (and they do all the work, anyway!) that greed is the numero uno driver in that hospital system, and that anyone who questions or challenges UPMC will pay a severe price.

It is exceedingly odd that so many different people have similar stories about UPMC.

So, this is where we are. My family unit is now reduced to 3. I have a Keith-sized hole in my heart that will never, ever go away. Our community has deeply mourned our collective loss.

I have always known how special and amazing my husband is. I didn’t realize that so many hundreds of people across the country know it too.

I had 24.5 years with Keith as my husband, and I am deeply grateful for that time we shared. No marriage is perfect, but ours was darn close.

I don’t know why God takes the good guys and leaves the hellish demons alone, allowing them to continue to traipse the earth and wreak havoc on people. None of it makes sense to me.

I do know that heaven gained a treasure on December 12th of last year. My intelligent, Dad-Joke-Aficionado, gentle, kind, honest, and truthful husband is likely up there running calculations on the mansions and ensuring they’ll hold a snow load of epic proportions. He’s keeping everyone safe, secure, organized, and happy there . . . just like he used to do for the boys and me.

I wish everyone could have had the privilege of knowing him. He made this shiz-tastic, horrible world of ours a better place.


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If you or someone you know has a story they would like to share with the world, we would be honored to list it. We have a submission for you may fill out and we will contact you about the fine details to get your story published. The submission form can be found here: