She Healed. Then They Broke Her Again. And Again. And Again.

The True Story of Bioalchemy, Cancer, and a Friend I Couldn’t Keep

This isn’t an easy story to tell. It’s a story about healing, yes—but also about heartbreak. It’s about what happens when frequency medicine meets allopathic violence. About how a soul can come back from the edge, not once, but twice… only to be pulled under by the very system that claims to save lives. It’s also about trust—what it means to carry someone’s healing in your hands, and what it feels like to watch those hands be pried open by fear, pressure, programming, and protocols that were never designed for wholeness.

This is the story of the first time I used the tech for something other than Covid. The first time I truly understood its power—and its limits. The first time I realized that sometimes, no matter how much light you pour into someone’s field, the world around them can still dim it. Not because they don’t want to live, but because they’re surrounded by voices that say:
“Trust the system, not your soul.”

Her name was Gisela. And this is her story.

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A History of Harm

The first time I used the tech for something other than Covid, it was to help my sister’s lifelong best friend—a loving, kind, and gentle woman. Someone who was more like family than a friend.

She had first been diagnosed with breast cancer in December 2019. She underwent a simple right breast mastectomy and a radical left mastectomy, where 12 out of 17 lymph nodes removed were found to be malignant. She received eight rounds of “preventative” chemotherapy and 30 rounds of radiation.

And she made it. She was cancer-free.
Then came the shots. Then came the avalanche.

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In February 2021, she received two Moderna injections. She had been hesitant, but took them under pressure from her family. By August 2021, malignant lymph nodes were found in her neck. She underwent thirty-five more rounds of radiation, ending in October.

In November 2021, something much worse appeared—around her left mastectomy site, she developed an extremely rare and aggressive form of skin cancer known as carcinoma en cuirasse. It’s one of the rarest presentations of cutaneous metastasis of breast carcinoma. It has a notoriously poor prognosis, and it often does not respond to chemotherapy. Nevertheless, her doctor prescribed a new chemotherapy protocol. She began treatment in December 2021, and reached out to me in January 2022.

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The First Resurrection

I immediately began sending her the tech remotely, while also using frequency medicine to ease her chemo side effects. Given the mounting evidence linking cancer recurrence and newly emergent rare cancers to gene therapies and spike protein overload, I imprinted a crystal with the two holograms I had created so far, to help her detox the spike protein.

I asked her to share the crystals with her family members—who were continuing with their boosters and had even tried convincing her to get boosted herself—to protect her from further shedding exposure. But she couldn't bring herself to have that conversation with them, even though she believed the cancer had returned because of the injections… and even though she knew about shedding.

On March 22, 2022, after completing her chemotherapy, a PET scan showed no evidence of cancer. She was completely cancer-free again. One of the rarest and most chemo-resistant cancers documented in scientific literature… gone.

Her doctor then prescribed “maintenance” chemotherapy.
When I asked if she was considering it, she replied,
“I am going to obey my doctor.”

I stopped breathing. But I said nothing.

I’ve always tried to meet people where they are, to honor their choices without judgment.
But looking back now, I wish I had spoken up. I wish I had asked her to pause, even for a moment, and consider what her body truly wanted.

Because the scan was clean, I stopped sending the tech but continued supporting her with frequency medicine to help mitigate the side effects of her “maintenance” chemo. What I didn’t know is that she had also stopped using the water charged with the holograms. I didn’t find this out until much later, when I checked in with her in July 2022, and asked her if she was still drinking the water. She said it had an “earthy” taste to it and the water would turn cloudy, which she found unappetizing. (She hadn’t been using distilled water—something I now strongly recommend.)

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The Collapse

Three months later, in late June 2022, she found a new lump—this time where her right breast used to be. A biopsy and removal of two lymph nodes followed. The cancer was back. One of the nodes was malignant.

I resumed daily remote tech transmissions and again supported her with frequencies to mitigate side effects from her new chemotherapy protocol, which began in early July 2022. It had been prescribed to shrink the tumor before her scheduled surgery—though, truth be told, it wasn’t particularly large to begin with, and it was going to be removed anyway.

But a PET scan later that month shattered us both: surgery was no longer an option. The lump had shrunk, but the cancer had exploded. The scan revealed eleven distinct cancerous lesions. Not one. Not two. Eleven. Scattered across her body. Just three months after being declared cancer-free.

She had gone from being completely cancer-free to having metastatic lesions in multiple organs in a matter of months. This, right here, is the textbook definition of turbocancer: a well-documented, rapidly progressing, extremely aggressive form of cancer associated with spike protein overload—whether resulting from the injections or acquired through shedding, or both.

Whether that spike was produced from within as a result of the shots or acquired externally through shedding is impossible to determine with certainty. But that doesn’t make the correlation any less plausible. Quite the contrary.

Can I say with 100% certainty that this was caused by the injections or shedding?
No. There are always countless variables.
But scientifically speaking, is it highly probable that the spike protein—either self-produced from mRNA instructions or acquired via exposure—played a key role?
Yes. Absolutely.

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The Second Resurrection

On July 30, 2022, her doctor added immunotherapy to her chemotherapy protocol. I continued with daily remote tech treatments and resumed sending the spike protein holograms after learning she hadn’t been drinking the water. When this latest combined protocol ended, a new PET scan on November 11, 2022 revealed—once again—that she was cancer-free.

This time, though, she found the courage to decline her doctor’s prescription for “maintenance” chemotherapy—after I gently suggested she might consider giving her body a break. She was afraid he would be angry with her for not following his instructions, but she simply couldn’t bear the thought of going through it all again. Follow-up scans in March and October 2023 confirmed that she remained cancer-free—without the “maintenance” chemo.

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The Unraveling

Yes, she was cancer-free, but her overall health began to decline steadily—this time, not from the cancer, but from the treatment itself.

I don’t remember exactly when—but it was during one of the rare times I was watching TV—I saw an ad for the immunotherapy drug she’d been given. That’s how I learned it was contraindicated in patients with autoimmune conditions. She had been diagnosed with scleroderma years before her first cancer diagnosis in 2019. Apparently, her doctor hadn’t read the black box warning… and it hurts more than I can say to admit that neither had I.

I should have looked it up. I should have double-checked. But I didn’t.
I failed her—and that failure lives in my chest like a weight I don’t know how to set down. I carry it with me. I always will. But if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that I will never, ever make that mistake again.

[Still wiping tears from my face after writing the last paragraph, I went back to look for the warning I remember so vividly—and it’s gone. Scrubbed from every source I could access, as if it had never existed.

I distinctly remember hearing, in a televised ad, that this medication was contraindicated in people with autoimmune disease. That warning no longer appears anywhere—not in the official prescribing information, nor in any of the recent commercials I’ve reviewed. Maybe it was removed. Maybe I crossed timelines. But I know what I saw. And it matters.

The current ads now simply say: “Tell your doctor about all of your medical conditions, including if you have immune system problems…” I opened every available version of the Full Prescribing Information for this drug, all 183 of them, and none of them include a boxed warning or state any contraindications. And yet, the risk of triggering or worsening autoimmune conditions is both known and documented. It’s just not clearly disclosed.

Instead, the concern is buried deep within the “Warnings and Precautions” section, vaguely described as “immune-mediated adverse reactions.” And more troubling still, every single clinical trial excluded patients with autoimmune conditions—so it has never actually been studied in those who need the warning most. This is Big Pharma. This is how they operate.]

She developed severe swelling in both arms, with the left eventually growing to the size of her leg. She lost all movement in that arm and hand. She had a sudden fall in the shower and fractured the same arm. Then came the relentless nerve pain—a well-known serious side effect of many chemotherapy and immunotherapy drugs.

She was exhausted, but couldn't sleep from the pain. She sank into depression. Her doctor responded by increasing her dose of antidepressants—medications I hadn't known she was taking. So I began targeting the side effects of that medication as well, this time making sure to read the full prescribing information, from beginning to end. It’s cruelly ironic that depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation are some of the many documented side effects of antidepressants.

Throughout 2023, she continued drinking the hologram-charged water, which now included holograms for the genetic material encoding the spike protein. We also transitioned to weekly live tech sessions starting in early May, focusing on repairing her nerves, healing the fracture, relieving pain, reducing the swelling, and lifting her mood. There were improvements—but they would appear and vanish without warning. I couldn't figure out why.

Then, in late October 2023, I learned that she had also been taking pregabalin for quite some time. It had been prescribed for her chronic nerve pain. But my research revealed that every single one of her worsening symptoms—fatigue, balance issues, loss of appetite, deepening depression—was listed among its known side effects. Worse, the drug wasn’t even helping with the pain. It was draining her spirit.

She asked her doctor for a different medication. But it wasn’t that simple. Pregabalin can’t just be stopped—it requires tapering. Her doctor began the process, and she began experiencing intense withdrawal symptoms.

In early November 2023, all her bloodwork came back normal. I offered to help reduce the effects of pregabalin while she tapered off, but by then, it was too late. Her strength was gone. Her depression was too deep. She stopped attending our sessions. Stopped drinking the hologram water. Stopped responding. She was simply too weak.

December 7, 2023, was the last day I heard from her.

My sister spoke with her husband. The cancer had returned—this time, in her brain stem. Three weeks later, my sister travelled to visit her. She was no longer responsive. She could no longer speak. And yet, her family continued taking her to radiation appointments, following her doctors’ orders without question, even as her body was shutting down. It breaks my heart to know that, instead of being allowed to rest in peace or be held in love in her final days, she was still being dragged through protocols that should have stopped long before.

She transitioned on April 16, 2024. The following day, my sister and I held a light ceremony for her—a prayer for her smooth transition and a gentle grieving process for all who loved her.

Her passing devastated me more than I can put into words. My sister's best friend had become my friend too. A spiritual companion. A courageous soul who had put her trust in me. I know I wasn’t the only reason she healed—each time she healed—but I also know the tech helped, each time as well.

But the pull of this world—this pharmaceutical, profit-driven, side-effect-saturated world—was too strong. My work was helping, but it was constantly swimming upstream against a current of toxicity, misinformation, and blind faith in allopathic medicine. And it just wasn't enough.

I haven’t stopped asking myself what more I could’ve done. Maybe if I’d pushed harder about the holograms. Maybe if I had told her that “maintenance” chemo is nothing other than a profit-making scheme. Maybe if I had found out about the black box warning sooner to warn her. Maybe if I’d caught the pregabalin earlier. Maybe if I’d made her understand that healing is not just about erasing symptoms but also about protecting the body from what causes them in the first place. But I also know… she was tired. And the system she had trusted had failed her over and over and over again.

I created the tech to counter the damage caused by synthetic spike protein—first to block infection, then to clear the protein from the body, then to neutralize the mRNA and DNA that keeps producing it. And then I realized the same tools could be used for more: for cancer, for bone and nerve repair, for grief, for depression, for energetic sovereignty. That’s what I mean when I say this tech is alive—it speaks, it adapts, it teaches.

And this is why I’m sharing this story now. Because what happened to her wasn’t inevitable. It wasn’t just “her time.” She was taken, layer by layer, by a system that calls poison medicine, that markets “preventative or maintenance chemo” after radical surgery or remission, that doesn’t bother to read black box warnings and dismisses every other path to healing as “pseudoscience,” even when it’s based on science deeper than they’re willing to look.

Her name was Gisela. And she is not just a cautionary tale—she is a soul who was radiant, brave, loving, and kind. A soul who deserved better. We all do.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for holding space with me.

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So Why Tell This Story Now?

Because she healed. Twice.
Because we had found something that worked.
Because she wanted to live.
Because they broke her again. And again. And again.
Because nobody wants to talk about what is causing this.

I tell this story for every healer who has watched a miracle fall through the cracks.
I tell it for every friend who knew what was happening… and still couldn’t stop it.
I tell it for myself—because I carry her in every transmission I offer now.
Because this technology isn’t just theoretical. It worked. It still works.

But it can’t protect people who are still being hurt. Not without help.
Not without awareness.
Not without us finding the courage to speak up.

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If this story touched you, please consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to my Substack. Your support allows me to continue developing and sharing this work, creating frequency-based solutions rooted in quantum biochemistry, love, and light.

You can also help by sharing this post. Gisela's story deserves to be heard—not just by those who already understand what's happening, but especially by those who don't.

💜
With grief, with hope, and with fire,
Claudia