Situated between an older brother and younger sister, I’m the middle child of parents who planned. How else would we be August, September, October babies? I don’t remember being happy, or sad, or resentful when my little sister was born, but I wasn’t exactly welcoming.

When my sister was barely a year old, and I was four, we lived in a suburb of Philadelphia. In our house there was a lovely stone fireplace. One day when our parents were out of sight, I threw an enormous stuffed bear in her way and she tripped, falling forward and smacking her face on the sharp edge of the hearth. Screaming, tears and a gusher of blood commenced. Years later as a trauma nurse, I would still marvel at just how much blood could emerge from the tiniest facial laceration. Our face and scalp are quintessentially vascular tissue.

My dad scooped up my sister, and pulled me along. I don’t remember how we got there, but we arrived in the pediatrician’s office in short order. Can you imagine? A pediatrician who could and would suture? As an inauguration to my little manhood, I was witness to the spectacle of my sister being sewn up. Dad held her firmly as a needle with black thread was passed in and out of her nose through her nostrils, then in and out of her nose on the outside. More tears, blood and screaming. The worst part was that in my four year old mind, it was my fault.

More than a decade ago, after a holiday debacle when we each had too much Chateau Neuf de Pape and a drunken row ensued, something shifted in our adult relationship. By the way, I don’t recommend this as a consistent way to improve communication with your siblings, but in this isolated instance, it was just the ticket. Some dam broke, and we began to have regular meaningful phone conversations. This lasted for years.

Along the trajectory of our years of conversations, I tried to make amends to my sister for perceived transgressions, for which I continued to carry a sense of wrongdoing. She didn’t really bite, either because they didn’t have the same weight for her, or because she would rather just not go there.

The pandemic soured our relationship. I’m presenting my perspective of course, but my sense is that my stance against further COVID vaccinations, and articulation that despite being a lifelong Democrat, I would actually consider voting for Trump irritated her. It probably doesn’t help that a cursory search of the internet would inform her that I’m practice partners with the devil himself, rather than the humble, courageous patriot, fine human and skilled clinician I know him to be. The last time we spoke was when I traveled to Orlando, FL in October 2022 for the inaugural FLCCC Alliance conference on spikopathy. I flew down early to have dinner with her and my mother. She had just been boosted, went out with co-workers for a social hour, and came down with acute COVID. Ahem.

Fifty years later, I’m still trying to forgive myself for tripping up my little sister. I feel kindness and compassion for the little rug rat that I was, and you would think that I’ve paid my debts by now, but, not quite yet.

Recent Past

In my previous post I related the initial flip flop at SUNY Upstate re: whether to mask or not to mask. Upstate next vacillated on when, why, and how to wear surgical masks versus N-95s. Pre-pandemic, we didn’t wear N-95s that much. If you did, it was most often because you had a patient who had active Tuberculosis or a suspicion for the same. If you worked in an urban environment, with immigrants from developing countries, and with prisoners, this would happen more often. You never wore the mask for that long. It was understood that the mask was good for less than thirty minutes. You would gown and mask to go into a negative pressure room. These rooms are designed to have enough ventilation to the outside, so that when the door to the room opens, air can only go into it, not out. There was typically an anteroom before the patient room itself, where you would don and doff your gown, mask and gloves. It was understood that an N-95 was a single use piece of equipment. You would not, under any circumstances, reuse an N-95. Period.

There was an annual ritual around being “fitted” for the correct N-95. It was a big deal. You had to have it done by the deadline or you would be on your manager’s naughty list, maybe even be taken off the schedule until you checked that box. If you grew a beard, shaved a beard, lost some weight, gained some weight, you would definitely need a thorough evaluation. The process took a half hour at Cayuga Medical Center in Ithaca where I worked for fifteen years. Upstate was a little speedier, but the idea was the same. Turn your head this way, turn it that, bend over, grimace, do jumping jacks, repeat this ridiculous paragraph about leprechauns and a pot of gold at the end of rainbow. Some linguist had deduced just the right number of consonants and vowels to test the effectiveness of your mask at preventing aerosolized particles from making their way to your respiratory tract. You get the picture. Tedium ad nauseum.

The whole point of fitting was to have an effectively tight seal of your N-95. Common sense would tell you that taking such a mask on and off multiple times during a shift will compromise this fit. In the blink of an eye, Upstate was telling us that not only could we wear N-95s for an entire twelve hour shift, but even that we could set them aside and they could be cleaned, sanitized, and sterilized. God bless their hearts, National Nurses United put out a fact sheet on this topic by the end of March 2020. But per management, what was drilled into our heads for decades was no longer valid. Upstate started collecting our N-95s at the end of the shift. We were supposed to put our initials and employee number on them, and they would be returned to us after sterilization. The plan was to reuse them two more times.

I complied once, barely. When I received my first sterilized mask back, it had red lipstick on it. For the record, I’ve got no beef with guys who wear lipstick, but I’m not one of them. Frankly, if I was going to wear lipstick, I think I’d be more of a pink frosty kind of guy. Anyway, I don’t wear lipstick. From that point on, sure, I’d put my mask in the bins. After I took a paper hole puncher and gave it a few good plugs, or yanked out the strap. And no, no name or employee ID number, but I wanted them to get the message that not everybody was buying into their scheme. I wasn’t alone.


I’m a Quaker. Quakers try harder to be good people than about anybody within throwing distance. They are by and large, progressive liberals, who are intentionally, determinedly, incessantly boosted. These are my people. The mind bender is that I don’t agree with them at all on this point. Because I have been treating and healing long-haul and vax injured patients for almost two years, and I am vaccine injured myself, I know different.

In fact, the people who I didn’t think were my people, the Trump-voting, evangelical, gun-toting, politically incorrect, not careful and not-trying-so-hard-to-be-good people, are feeling a lot more like…my people. They are the Americans who didn’t jump in line to get the shots, who didn’t trust the government, had some thoughts of their own, and in many ways have paid a huge price for their intransigence over the last nearly four years.

In our Quaker meeting, one manner in which we get to know each other is through Quaker Eights. The idea is to get together with a small group of Quakers at least eight times over the course of a year. Mostly this would be through potlucks, but it could be through any activity we choose.

Given what I know and continue to learn about shedding, I was uncertain whether or not, I could attend an upcoming Quaker Eight potluck without suffering adverse consequences. What I did, and what I would suggest that you do too, is take a leap. I emailed our Quaker Eight group about my predicament. In brief, I told them that I’m vaccine injured, with ongoing health challenges, and concerned about shedding. I explained what shedding was, and asked them to share their booster status.

I understood that this would be completely novel information for them, given their confidence in The Narrative. What I was trying to suss out was whether anyone had been boosted in the last two weeks because that seems to be a particularly potent period of shedding. The responses came back quickly, respectfully, simply stating the time since their last booster. I expected this, but it still felt like a gut punch when I understood that all of them had received the latest booster. None in the last two weeks. Game on. Using prophylaxis which included supplements and Rx meds on FLCCC protocols, drinking green tea, using eye drops and nasal spray, I attended our potluck in the company of boosted Quakers.

Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), Green Tea, and EGCG

Within our practice the Leading Edge Clinic is my beloved colleague, Dr. Anthony Fazio. We met in 2005 when we helped start the Ithaca Free Clinic, where he still volunteers. This was the first free clinic in the United States to integrate allopathic Western medicine and complementary or alternative medicine. Boy did we wrestle with those labels!

Anthony is an acupuncturist and traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) herbalist who has been in practice for more than 30 years. Starting with a scientific paper which considered Ayurvedic herbs, and measured their capacity to destroy spike, Anthony developed eye drops, and a nasal spray, which we think provide some protection against shedding. My wife and I were test subjects for early versions of the solutions. He is still making it in micro batches, but approximately 40 of our patients are using it, and reports from the field are positive. We provide the set to our patients at cost, but you can contact Dr. fazio at Peaceful Spirit Acupuncture if you want to order it. Cost is $100 per set including shipping.

I’m distinguishing the TCM anti-spike eye drops and nasal spray from options we have to block the virus alone. For example, diluted povidone iodine, commercially available Xlear, or Enovid, heck, even neti pot rinses with half a teaspoon of salt and half a teaspoon of baking soda are all helpful in preventing us from getting sick from the COVID virus. Enovid shows some effect against both the virus and spike from shedding per my patients’ reports. The TCM combo is not only antiviral, but specifically targeting spike protein conveyed via exosomes in aerosolized particles from another person’s exhalation.

From 2021-2023, there were multiple studies demonstrating that EGCG or epigallocatechin gallate in green tea helps block spike entry into cells. Aside from therapies listed in FLCCC Alliance protocols to inhibit spike, such as nasal rinses, NAC, quercetin, etc. green tea is my go to, along with the TCM eye drops and nasal spray to prevent shedding.

The Epoch Times had an excellent article about the differences among green teas and their EGCG content. A simple rule is that Japanese Sencha and Matcha have the highest content. My favorite source is Rishi Tea out of Milwaukee, WI, one of the largest importers of organic loose green tea in the United States. Of course, you can buy EGCG as a capsule or in a combination anti-spike formula, but as with all things herbal, when you isolate a single component, you are certain to lose many additional compounds. These compounds synergistically improve the effect of the target molecule, and limit any potential side effects. Besides, green tea is yummy.

The potluck went well. I didn’t note any increase in my vax injury symptoms afterwards, and future labs will tell whether I’m holding steady in the face of shedding during social exposure. As we head into the holidays, whether you have PASC, vax injury, no concerns or this is all new to you, thinking about and negotiating shedding will serve your health and well being. I’ll plan to discuss this further in upcoming posts.

P.S. I don’t have a financial interest in products or brands recommended such as Rishi Tea, Xlear, Enovid, etc.

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