COPD Patients: Read This Short Article Now

Respiratory therapist breaks ranks on the $300-a-month routine nobody questions - and the 60-second morning habit that turned 15-minute mornings into 5

Dear friend with COPD,

If the first thing you do every day is grip a basin and wait...

If your voice does not arrive until an hour after you do...

If the tap goes on so nobody has to listen to the rest of it...

Then what follows could save you from the fifteen minutes, the shelf you keep adding to, and the calls you let go to the machine.

But I need to warn you first.

This is going to make you angry.

Because it is not complicated, and it is not new, and it is not hidden.

And before any of it, three things it is not.

It is not that the lungs got worse this year.

It is not age, and nobody on this page is going to say that word to you again.

It is not that you did not try hard enough, because there is a shelf in that bathroom that proves you did.

So why has nobody said it.

Not because anybody is hiding it.

But because nobody can bill for it.

There is no code for sixty seconds in your own kitchen, and the people who actually see it are standing over somebody at two in the morning.

Nobody writes down what they know.

And here is the part that should annoy you.

Three inhalers, taken for life, at the three hundred dollars a month one customer wrote to us about.

That is three thousand six hundred dollars a year, every year, forever.

Nobody has to hide anything to want that to continue.

They only have to keep answering a question you did not ask.

So the shelf grows.

And nothing else does.

My name is Dana Whitcomb.

I am a respiratory therapist.

Nineteen years, the last eleven in the pulmonary rehab unit at a regional hospital outside Scranton, Pennsylvania.

I get called at two in the morning when somebody cannot finish a sentence.

I have looked at what comes out of people in a clear plastic jar under a strip light, most nights, for all of it.

And until it was a woman called Marilyn, I believed that the mornings are long because the lungs are far gone.

THE MORNING I RAN OUT OF THINGS TO SAY

It was twenty past six on a Tuesday.

I stood in the bathroom doorway with a mug of coffee going cold in my hand.

Marilyn had both hands on the edge of the basin. The tap was running.

She had been there eleven minutes. I know because I looked.

At the end of it she rinsed the basin and wiped it with the corner of the towel so nobody would have to see.

Then she said good morning.

Here is the part I have not got over:

Nineteen years of getting things out of people's lungs for a living.

And I did not know what to tell her.

Three inhalers. Prednisone twice. A shelf of cough medicine in every strength they make.

Every appointment added something. Not one ever took anything away.

I had nothing that was not already on that shelf.

WHAT I FINALLY WORKED OUT, AND HOW LONG IT TOOK ME

I went at it the way you go at something when it is your own family.

And then one night on a shift I was looking at a jar under a strip light, the way I have looked at a few thousand of them.

But this time I actually looked at it.

Because there were two different things sitting in that jar, and there always had been, and in nineteen years not one person had ever drawn me the second one.

And what I landed on was not complicated, and that is the part that still annoys me.

It is not that her lungs had run out of road.

It is that everything she had been given was arriving in the wrong place, and had been for nine years.

Let me show you what I mean.

THE PART NOBODY HAS EVER DRAWN FOR HER

This is the part I wish somebody would draw for every single person with this.

There is a loose wet layer sitting on top.

That is the layer a thinner works on.

And that is the layer she hauls up at the sink every morning, and it is back by the afternoon.

Underneath it there is an older layer that has gone hard and set itself onto the wall of the airway.

Think of a chimney that has not been swept in nine years.

The air still goes up the middle. It always does.

But it never touches the walls, so what is baked onto the walls does not care how much air goes past it.

And underneath both layers there are tiny hairs whose entire job is to sweep the whole business up and out.

Bury those under something that has already set and they stop.

They are not broken and they have not given up. They are pinned.

So fifteen minutes of work produces a teaspoon.

Because the work is going into the top layer, and the part that costs her the morning is welded underneath it.

WHAT ACTUALLY TAKES A LAYER LIKE THAT OFF

Think about the shower head in that same bathroom.

Nine years of hard water and it has crusted up on the inside.

And you can run water through it every morning for another nine years and it will not shift, because the water goes straight down the middle and out the end.

So you take it down and you sit it in something strong, and you leave it overnight.

Not because scrubbing is lazy. Because there is nothing to scrub. It is on the inside of the thing.

And in the morning it comes away in bits, and some of them are darker than you were expecting.

That is the whole of it, and it is three things and not one.

Something strong enough to matter. Sitting against the thing itself and not running past it. And left there long enough to do the work.

Take one of those three away and you have a shower head you have run water through.

THE THREE THINGS THAT HAVE TO BE TRUE AT ONCE

For anything to move what is actually sitting there, three things have to be true at the same time.

One. It has to be strong enough to matter.

Tea is leaves and hot water. What ends up in the cup is mostly water.

That is not an opinion about the plant. It is arithmetic about the cup.

Two. It cannot go through the stomach.

Anything swallowed meets acid, then the liver takes its cut, and whatever survives gets spread through every drop of blood in the body on its way to everywhere at once.

The airway gets whatever is left of what is left.

Three. It has to be held long enough to go in.

Two seconds and a swallow is the same as swallowing it.

Miss one of the three and you get exactly what she got for years.

Nothing.

That is why the tea did nothing.

That is why the capsules did nothing.

And that is why the cheap dropper squeezed into a glass of water did nothing, and it was never the plant.

SO WHY HAS THE INHALER NOT DONE IT

Because that is the fair question, and she is going to ask it before she gets to the end of this page.

The inhaler already goes into the airway. That is true and it is not a small thing.

And it works. It opens the tube so the air gets through, and every one of them stays exactly as her doctor wrote it, forever.

But a puff is a mist, and a mist settles on the wet layer on top.

And the wet layer is the one she hauls up at the sink, so by the afternoon whatever landed on it has gone up with it.

It never sat against the wall. Not once in nine years.

Same with the syrup. Same with the tablets. Same with the machine and the mask if there is one in that house.

Not one of them was ever aimed at the wall, because every one of them was aimed at the middle, and the middle was never what was costing her the morning.

WHAT SHE TAKES NOW

✓ It is concentrated. Not leaves in hot water. There is something in the dropper worth arriving.

✓ It goes under the tongue. Held there, not tipped down the throat, so it is not starting at the stomach.

✓ It is timed. A full sixty seconds by a clock on the wall, before food and before coffee.

All three. Every morning. That is the whole of it.

So I put a bottle on the window ledge over Marilyn's kitchen sink, next to the radio.

And I did not make a speech about it.

I said sixty seconds, before the coffee, and I will ring you Sunday.

She did it because I asked her to, and not because anybody sold her anything.

It is called Veylor.

Wild mullein, which is the one that works on what is set on the wall, and it has to be the wild kind, because the farmed sort is grown fast and comes out thin.

Bromelain, out of pineapple stems, which is in there to break the old stuff up so it has somewhere to go.

Ginger, so the whole business keeps moving instead of sitting in her chest.

Cordyceps, which is for the part she has stopped mentioning to anybody, which is the stairs.

And a little lemon peel, because otherwise nobody keeps anything up for thirty mornings.

It is the only thing I have found that does all three at once.

It is concentrated, so there is something in the dropper worth arriving.

It goes under the tongue, so it does not take the long road through the stomach.

And it is held there for a full sixty seconds by a clock, not counted in her head, because that is how long it takes to go in.

Two full droppers, first thing, before food and before coffee.

Every prescription stays exactly as it was written. Every one of them, forever.

Nothing here replaces anything, and nothing here asks her to stop.

THE SAME DOORWAY, NINE WEEKS LATER

It was twenty past six again and I was standing in the same place with the same mug.

But the tap was not running.

And the coffee in my hand was still hot, which is how I knew before anybody said anything, because that coffee has never once been hot in that doorway.

Marilyn was at the basin about four minutes and then she came out.

And she still wiped it round with the corner of the towel, out of nine years of habit, and there was nothing on it to wipe.

She did not mention it. Neither did I.

Then she said good morning, and that was the whole of it, and it was the first morning in nine years that it was.

WHAT HAPPENS, IN ORDER, INCLUDING THE WEEK PEOPLE QUIT

Day one.

Sharp and bitter, nothing like the drops before it, and about halfway through the count a warmth comes up under the jaw.

Days three to seven.

More comes up, not less. Thicker and heavier than it was.

That is the first sign anything down there is moving at all, and it is also where people stop, because nobody tells them what it means.

Days eight to fourteen.

It goes dark. Brown going to nearly black, dense enough to sink in the basin instead of sitting on the water.

That is the week nobody expects and the only one that proves anything is happening.

Weeks three and four.

Fifteen minutes comes down to about eight, and then to about five, and she notices because the coffee is still hot.

Weeks five and six.

She gets her end of a conversation back, and the person on the other end stops asking whether she is alright.

Weeks seven and eight.

She stops working out in advance where she would have to sit.

See the thirty mornings →

THEN OTHER PEOPLE IN THE CLASS STARTED ASKING HER

It did not stay quiet.

Somebody noticed she was not at the sink as long and asked her what had changed.

She told one person.

That person told two more, and inside a month I had women I had never treated stopping me in a corridor to ask about a brown bottle.

None of it came from me.

It came from women comparing notes about their own mornings, which is the only way anything actually travels in this.

WHAT OTHER WOMEN HAVE WRITTEN IN

Carol Estes, 67, North Carolina
“I told my neighbour the whole mullein thing was nonsense, because I had done the tea years ago. I want it on record that I was wrong about the plant and right about the tea.”

Denise Karras, 71, Ohio
“Week two got worse and I nearly put it in the bin. My daughter told me to finish the bottle. Day eleven what came up was dark and it sank.”

Wendy Ashcroft, 74, Adelaide
“The sink used to be fifteen minutes. It was five this morning and the kettle had not boiled.”

Dorothy Ferrante, 79, Michigan
“My great grandson had his birthday at the park and I was there the whole thing. I had picked out a chair beforehand and never used it.”

Check Availability →

AND IF YOU ARE READING THIS FOR SOMEBODY ELSE

Because a lot of the people who write to us are not the one standing at the sink.

They are the daughter who already does all the websites, reading this at half past eleven at night with the phone on the arm of the chair.

So two things, and then I will leave it.

It can arrive without a conversation. Nobody has to be talked into anything. She just has to find a small amber bottle on the counter and be told sixty seconds before the coffee.

And the second week is going to look like it is making her worse, and she is going to ring you about it, and that is the week it is actually working.

Do not let her put it in the cabinet. That is the entire job.

NINETY DAYS, AND SHE IS MEANT TO USE THE WHOLE BOTTLE

Ninety days from the day it lands on the mat.

One bottle is thirty mornings.

And thirty mornings is far enough in to know, because the thing people notice first shows up somewhere in the second and third week, well inside one bottle.

So the window is deliberately longer than the bottle.

Nobody is deciding against a clock, and nobody has to commit to anything past the first one to find out.

If she gets to the end of those thirty mornings and nothing deep has moved, the bottle goes back, empty, and she keeps her money.

There is no form to fill out.

Nobody asks her to prove she took it, or to explain what she means by nothing moved, or offers her something else instead.

That is the whole policy and it fits in a paragraph, which is more than most of them manage.

THE PART THAT IS GENUINELY OUT OF OUR HANDS

The mullein in this is wild.

Not farmed, not grown to order.

It is cut by hand in a short window once a year, and when a run is gone it is gone until the next picking.

There is no countdown on this page and I am not going to invent a number to put in front of you.

If the page still takes an order, there is still some of it on the shelf.

WHAT IT IS ACTUALLY BEING WEIGHED AGAINST

Three thousand six hundred dollars a year.

That is the routine she is already on, at the figure one customer put in writing, and it does not stop.

Then there is the shelf. Two winters of cough medicine, the box replaced every fall whether it did anything or not, the syrup bought twice because she forgot she had one.

Nobody adds that up, because it goes out five and ten dollars at a time.

Against all of that, this is one bottle and thirty mornings.

And if it does nothing, the bottle goes back empty and she keeps her money.

So the question is not what it costs.

The question is what another year of the same shelf costs.

TWO VERSIONS OF THE SAME KITCHEN

Both of them start tomorrow morning at the same sink, and nothing about the next hour is different in either one, and the two of them dont come apart until later.

The one where nothing changes

The blanket stays on the arm of the recliner because thats where it lives now, and the chair is where the afternoon goes. The morning at the sink is still fifteen minutes and the faucet still runs the whole time so nobody in the house has to listen to it. The phone rings and it goes to the machine, and the call gets returned later when the talking is easier, or it doesnt get returned at all. There is another appointment in three weeks and something new gets added to the list, because that is what those appointments do, and nothing ever comes off the list. Next winter the shelf above the sink is a little more crowded than it is right now.

The one where the mornings get shorter

Around week three the fifteen minutes comes down to about five and the faucet doesnt have to run for cover anymore. The phone gets picked up on the second ring, and by week five the sentence gets finished without the part in the middle where everything stops. The stairs at the daughters house get done in one go and nobody at the top turns around, because there is nothing to turn around for. Then its an ordinary Sunday and the call to Scotland runs long, and the sister talks about her hip and then about the weather coming in off the water, and the coffee goes cold on the counter because nobody got up to warm it.

Start the thirty mornings →

WHAT TO DO NEXT, IN ORDER

1. Open the order page the button under this article goes to the one page where the wild mullein drops are and nowhere else, so there is nothing to hunt for
2. Put the order in name and address and that is the whole of it, and a confirmation comes through by email so there is something to show the family when they ask
3. Watch for a small box inside is one amber glass bottle, two ounces, thirty mornings, and the dropper is built into the cap so nothing else is needed
4. Take it before anything else first morning, two full droppers, held for sixty seconds by the clock on the stove and then swallowed, before food and before coffee, and every inhaler stays exactly the way the doctor wrote it
5. Stay with it through week two days three to seven get thicker and worse and that is where most people quit and put the bottle in a drawer, and around day ten what comes up goes dark, so the bad week is the week to hold on

Check Availability →

Wild mullein is harvested, not farmed, so stock runs out.

With respect,
Dana Whitcomb
Respiratory therapist, 19 years

P.S. - Ruth in Michigan wrote back last week to say she stayed at the table for her great grandsons whole birthday and nobody had to carry a chair in for her, and the ice cream went soft on her plate while she was talking.

P.P.S. - Wild mullein is picked and not farmed, and only so much of it comes in from a season, so when a batch is gone there is nothing else until the next picking. There is no clock on this page counting anything down. It runs out when it runs out.

P.P.P.S. - If the second week is worse, that is the week that proves it. Do not put the bottle in the cabinet. Everybody who writes in about their sixth week got through their second one first.

CommentsNewest

Add a comment…

• 
  Margaret Ellery

  Has anyone here actually taken this or are we all just reading about it. I did the tea all last winter and it did nothing for me and I am not spending again on nothing.

  Like · Reply · 👍6 · 5 h
• 
  Carol Ann Petrie

  Margaret I did the tea too and it was a waste of a winter, but this is the drops and its not the same thing at all. Im into week seven and the morning at the sink is about five minutes now instead of the whole fifteen.

  Like · Reply · 👍9 · 5 h
• 
  Patricia Reaume

  how long does the delivery take and do you take it with food or before food, my husband is asking me and I dont know what to tell him

  Like · Reply · 👍3 · 4 h
• 
  Sandra McKeown

  Patricia mine came in six days to Ohio and its first thing before anything, two full droppers, and I do it before my coffee because if I have the coffee first I forget it completely.

  Like · Reply · 👍7 · 4 h
• 
  Gwen Ashcroft

  Heres mine on the windowsill with the rest of the collection. Nine years of that shelf. The second week was rough and there was more of it than before I ever started, but the mornings are a lot shorter now.

  

  Like · Reply · 👍8 · 4 h
• 
  Yvonne Barclay

  Sheila Prentice read this one. Its what I was telling you about after church on Sunday, not the tea, the drops.

  Like · Reply · 👍2 · 3 h
• 
  Joan Whitfield

  Day five and its worse not better, thicker and a lot more of it and I am up earlier than I was before I started. Someone tell me this settles down because right now it hasnt.

  Like · Reply · 👍4 · 3 h
• 
  Bonnie Charbonneau

  Joan thats exactly where I was and I put mine in the drawer for a week, which only cost me a week. Around day ten mine went dark, nearly black and heavy, and after that the mornings started getting shorter.

  Like · Reply · 👍9 · 3 h
• 
  Deborah Mainwaring

  Ordered a second one for my sister in Dunedin because shes worse than I am and she doesnt go out anymore. Two bottles on the counter now so I put a rubber band on mine to tell them apart.

  Like · Reply · 👍5 · 3 h
• 
  Rachel Duffield

  I got this for my mother, shes 78 and she will not order anything off the internet herself. Sent it to her the day mine came. She called me Sunday and talked the whole way through the call without stopping and that has not happened since Easter.

  

  Like · Reply · 👍9 · 2 h
• 
  Marion Teasdale

  Rachel I did the same for my mom and she gave me an earful about wasting money at first, but she takes it every morning now and she tells me what came up before I even get to say hello.

  Like · Reply · 👍4 · 2 h
• 
  Eileen Novotny

  Has anyone in their seventies had this actually do anything. Im 76 in September and every account I read seems to be somebody a good deal younger than me.

  Like · Reply · 👍3 · 2 h
• 
  Doris Kilbride

  Eileen Im 81 and I started at the end of spring and I am still here typing. I got through my sons birthday call last week without handing the phone to my husband halfway, and that hadnt happened in years.

  Like · Reply · 👍8 · 2 h
• 
  Kathleen O'Doherty

  Week two nearly finished me, I brought up more than I ever have and my husband said just stop taking it, but I didnt and three weeks after that I got up the stairs at my daughters in one go. I never told her I had ordered it because if it did nothing again then

  Like · Reply · 👍7 · 2 h
• 
  Lorraine Petit

  Mine took longer to come than my friends did and they told me its the wild kind and they cant just grow more of it to order, so if your thinking about it dont sit on it the way I did.

  Like · Reply · 👍5 · 1 h
• 
  Helen Broadfoot

  Does this have to go in the fridge and does it matter if you take it late, some mornings I am slow getting up and half the day is gone before I know it

  Like · Reply · 👍2 · 1 h
• 
  Annette Kerrigan

  Helen mine sits in the cupboard next to the tea and its been fine, and late is fine too so long as its before food or coffee. I keep it beside the clock so I dont have to remember it on my own.

  Like · Reply · 👍3 · 1 h
• 
  Nancy Brill

  I should have got this months ago and I sat on the article since about February, and thats a lot of mornings I spent in that recliner waiting to be able to talk to anybody. My own fault.

  Like · Reply · 👍6 · 47 min
• 
  Barbara Lunn

  Mine came this morning and its sitting by the coffee pot so I cant miss it and I start tomorrow. Ill come back on here and say.

  Like · Reply · 👍2 · 22 min
• 
  Glenys Tanner

  Started mine yesterday and it is BITTER, I wont pretend it isnt, and the dropper is fiddly first thing in the morning. But its down in a second and then I get my coffee.

  Like · Reply · 👍1 · 16 min

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Please read this part

This article is for general information and is not medical advice. Keep taking everything your doctor has prescribed. Nothing here is a replacement for it. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration, and this product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease. Individual experiences vary.