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Says it’s ‘as big as it gets’, but won’t reveal more
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Donate - Support Our Work
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The Secretary of Defense...
The Hidden Danger Behind Colonoscopies: What You’re Not Being Told
Colonoscopy is widely regarded as a routine, preventive procedure for detecting colon cancer and other digestive issues. While early detection is vital, there is a lesser known concern that deserves urgent attention, the risk of infection due to improper instrument reprocessing.
A Silent Threat with re-use.
Most patients are unaware that the colonoscope, the flexible instrument inserted into the rectum to view the colon, is a reusable device. Despite strict cleaning protocols, studies have shown that colonoscopes are among the most difficult medical instruments to fully sterilize.
A Complex Device That Resists Cleaning:
Unlike simple surgical tools, colonoscopes are highly intricate, consisting of long internal channels, fiber optic cables, air and water nozzles, suction ports, and angulation controls. These inner channels can be over ten feet long and often have narrow, winding pathways where organic material, blood, mucus, and bacteria can become lodged. Biofilm, an invisible, sticky layer of microbial buildup, can form inside these channels and shield harmful pathogens from disinfectants. Even the outer surface contains joints and flexible rubber segments that are prone to micro-tears, which may harbor dangerous microbes despite rigorous cleaning.
Busy Hospitals Add to the Risk
In high volume clinics and hospitals, colonoscopies are often scheduled back to back, leaving limited time for proper cleaning and sterilization between patients. Under such pressure, even well trained staff may be forced to rush the disinfection process. This creates the perfect conditions for transmission of serious infections such as HIV, HSV, hepatitis, antibiotic resistant bacteria and more.
No Protective Barrier Between Patients is a huge concern.
Alarmingly, no protective sheath is typically used to cover the insertion tube. While this might seem like an obvious solution, the reality is more complicated. The design of colonoscopes makes it nearly impossible to use a sheath without compromising the flexibility, maneuverability, and image quality required for the procedure. Sheaths can create visual distortion, interfere with the precision of movement, and potentially increase the risk of perforation or missed abnormalities. As a result, colonoscopes are inserted directly into the patient’s body without any disposable covering, increasing the risk of direct cross contamination between patients.
If even microscopic biological residue is left behind from a previous patient, it can become a vehicle for serious infection.
Contamination Is More Common Than Believed.
I recently discovered that disposable colonoscopes have been available since at least 2015, such as the Aer-O-Scope mentioned here: https://www.giview.com/aer-o-scope. A reader was concerned about the risk of infection from reusable scopes, she contacted several local clinics but was disappointed to learn that none of them currently use disposable models.
If you are able to access hospitals that that offer disposable colonoscopes the additional cost is approximately $200 for the added safety and peace of mind. It's surprising that such an option exists yet remains largely unavailable in standard hospitals.
Colonoscopy is widely regarded as a routine, preventive procedure for detecting colon cancer and other digestive issues. While early detection is vital, there is a lesser known concern that deserves urgent attention, the risk of infection due to improper instrument reprocessing.
A Silent Threat with re-use.
Most patients are unaware that the colonoscope, the flexible instrument inserted into the rectum to view the colon, is a reusable device. Despite strict cleaning protocols, studies have shown that colonoscopes are among the most difficult medical instruments to fully sterilize.
A Complex Device That Resists Cleaning:
Unlike simple surgical tools, colonoscopes are highly intricate, consisting of long internal channels, fiber optic cables, air and water nozzles, suction ports, and angulation controls. These inner channels can be over ten feet long and often have narrow, winding pathways where organic material, blood, mucus, and bacteria can become lodged. Biofilm, an invisible, sticky layer of microbial buildup, can form inside these channels and shield harmful pathogens from disinfectants. Even the outer surface contains joints and flexible rubber segments that are prone to micro-tears, which may harbor dangerous microbes despite rigorous cleaning.
Busy Hospitals Add to the Risk
In high volume clinics and hospitals, colonoscopies are often scheduled back to back, leaving limited time for proper cleaning and sterilization between patients. Under such pressure, even well trained staff may be forced to rush the disinfection process. This creates the perfect conditions for transmission of serious infections such as HIV, HSV, hepatitis, antibiotic resistant bacteria and more.
No Protective Barrier Between Patients is a huge concern.
Alarmingly, no protective sheath is typically used to cover the insertion tube. While this might seem like an obvious solution, the reality is more complicated. The design of colonoscopes makes it nearly impossible to use a sheath without compromising the flexibility, maneuverability, and image quality required for the procedure. Sheaths can create visual distortion, interfere with the precision of movement, and potentially increase the risk of perforation or missed abnormalities. As a result, colonoscopes are inserted directly into the patient’s body without any disposable covering, increasing the risk of direct cross contamination between patients.
If even microscopic biological residue is left behind from a previous patient, it can become a vehicle for serious infection.
Contamination Is More Common Than Believed.
I recently discovered that disposable colonoscopes have been available since at least 2015, such as the Aer-O-Scope mentioned here: https://www.giview.com/aer-o-scope. A reader was concerned about the risk of infection from reusable scopes, she contacted several local clinics but was disappointed to learn that none of them currently use disposable models.
If you are able to access hospitals that that offer disposable colonoscopes the additional cost is approximately $200 for the added safety and peace of mind. It's surprising that such an option exists yet remains largely unavailable in standard hospitals.
Ellie Lobel’s Final Days and the killer Bee Swarm That Saved Her Life
June 2011, Ellie Lobel, a 45-year-old nuclear physicist with a PhD, lay in palliative care in Wildomar, California, ready to die. For 15 years, chronic Lyme disease had ravaged her body, stealing her strength, her clarity, and her hope. Diagnosed too late after contracting the illness at 27, she endured relentless pain, neurological fog, and multiple organ failure.
By 2011, her body was shutting down, and she had accepted her fate, moving to California to spend her final days in peace. But fate had other plans. In a moment that seemed like a cruel twist, a swarm of Africanized bees—known as “killer bees”—attacked her, stinging her repeatedly. What should have been a fatal blow for a woman with a severe bee venom allergy became, against all odds, the turning point that brought her back from the brink. This is the story of that harrowing day, its aftermath, and the extraordinary recovery that followed.
The Attack: A Swarm in the Final Moments
Ellie’s days in palliative care were marked by stillness and surrender. Bedridden, she could barely stand, her body a shadow of the vibrant scientist she once was. Her mind, once sharp, was clouded by the neurological damage of Lyme disease. She had a known severe allergy to bee stings, a trauma rooted in a near-fatal anaphylactic reaction at age two that left her swollen, gasping, and hospitalized. Death, she believed, was close, and she was ready to let go.
Less than a week after arriving in Wildomar, Ellie asked her caregiver to help her outside for a fleeting moment of fresh air. Propped up near a broken wall and a tree, she stood unsteadily, her frail frame barely holding her upright. Without warning, a sharp pain struck her head—a single Africanized bee had stung her. Before she could react, a deafening buzz enveloped her as a swarm descended. These were no ordinary bees; Africanized bees are notorious for their aggression, attacking in relentless waves. Ellie, too weak to run or fight, was defenseless as the bees targeted her head, face, and neck, their stingers piercing her scalp, ears, and delicate skin.
She felt the first stings—5, maybe 15—each one a searing jolt of pain, like fire under her skin. Then the sheer number overwhelmed her, the buzzing and burning blending into a nightmarish haze. Her caregiver, terrified, bolted, leaving Ellie alone in the swarm’s fury. The attack seemed to last an eternity, though it was likely only minutes. Ellie didn’t try to escape; in her mind, this was the end she had been waiting for. The bees eventually scattered, leaving her slumped, swollen, and stinging, her face and ears grotesquely inflamed.
Her caregiver returned, pleading to rush her to a hospital, but Ellie refused. She was certain the stings would trigger anaphylaxis—her throat would close, her heart would stop, and it would be over. She wanted it to be over. She locked herself in her room, told her caregiver to “collect the body tomorrow,” and waited for death. Alone, in excruciating pain, she braced for the end, her swollen ears throbbing, her body feverish, her mind resigned.
She felt feverish, her body wracked with what she later believed was a Jarisch-Herxheimer reaction, a violent response to dying bacteria releasing toxins, common in Lyme disease treatment.
By the third day, Ellie noticed a change. The fog that had clouded her mind for years—the mental haze that stole her ability to think clearly—was lifting.
The bee stings, which should have killed her, were somehow healing her. She began researching, desperate to understand why. A 1997 study from Rocky Mountain Laboratories revealed that melittin, the main component of bee venom, could destroy Borrelia burgdorferi, the bacteria causing Lyme disease, by paralyzing it and breaking its membranes. Ellie believed the massive dose of venom from the swarm had obliterated the bacteria in her body.
June 2011, Ellie Lobel, a 45-year-old nuclear physicist with a PhD, lay in palliative care in Wildomar, California, ready to die. For 15 years, chronic Lyme disease had ravaged her body, stealing her strength, her clarity, and her hope. Diagnosed too late after contracting the illness at 27, she endured relentless pain, neurological fog, and multiple organ failure.
By 2011, her body was shutting down, and she had accepted her fate, moving to California to spend her final days in peace. But fate had other plans. In a moment that seemed like a cruel twist, a swarm of Africanized bees—known as “killer bees”—attacked her, stinging her repeatedly. What should have been a fatal blow for a woman with a severe bee venom allergy became, against all odds, the turning point that brought her back from the brink. This is the story of that harrowing day, its aftermath, and the extraordinary recovery that followed.
The Attack: A Swarm in the Final Moments
Ellie’s days in palliative care were marked by stillness and surrender. Bedridden, she could barely stand, her body a shadow of the vibrant scientist she once was. Her mind, once sharp, was clouded by the neurological damage of Lyme disease. She had a known severe allergy to bee stings, a trauma rooted in a near-fatal anaphylactic reaction at age two that left her swollen, gasping, and hospitalized. Death, she believed, was close, and she was ready to let go.
Less than a week after arriving in Wildomar, Ellie asked her caregiver to help her outside for a fleeting moment of fresh air. Propped up near a broken wall and a tree, she stood unsteadily, her frail frame barely holding her upright. Without warning, a sharp pain struck her head—a single Africanized bee had stung her. Before she could react, a deafening buzz enveloped her as a swarm descended. These were no ordinary bees; Africanized bees are notorious for their aggression, attacking in relentless waves. Ellie, too weak to run or fight, was defenseless as the bees targeted her head, face, and neck, their stingers piercing her scalp, ears, and delicate skin.
She felt the first stings—5, maybe 15—each one a searing jolt of pain, like fire under her skin. Then the sheer number overwhelmed her, the buzzing and burning blending into a nightmarish haze. Her caregiver, terrified, bolted, leaving Ellie alone in the swarm’s fury. The attack seemed to last an eternity, though it was likely only minutes. Ellie didn’t try to escape; in her mind, this was the end she had been waiting for. The bees eventually scattered, leaving her slumped, swollen, and stinging, her face and ears grotesquely inflamed.
Her caregiver returned, pleading to rush her to a hospital, but Ellie refused. She was certain the stings would trigger anaphylaxis—her throat would close, her heart would stop, and it would be over. She wanted it to be over. She locked herself in her room, told her caregiver to “collect the body tomorrow,” and waited for death. Alone, in excruciating pain, she braced for the end, her swollen ears throbbing, her body feverish, her mind resigned.
She felt feverish, her body wracked with what she later believed was a Jarisch-Herxheimer reaction, a violent response to dying bacteria releasing toxins, common in Lyme disease treatment.
By the third day, Ellie noticed a change. The fog that had clouded her mind for years—the mental haze that stole her ability to think clearly—was lifting.
The bee stings, which should have killed her, were somehow healing her. She began researching, desperate to understand why. A 1997 study from Rocky Mountain Laboratories revealed that melittin, the main component of bee venom, could destroy Borrelia burgdorferi, the bacteria causing Lyme disease, by paralyzing it and breaking its membranes. Ellie believed the massive dose of venom from the swarm had obliterated the bacteria in her body.
Part 2
A New Mission: Bee Venom Therapy
Ellie didn’t just survive; she fought to reclaim her life. Convinced the bees had saved her, she began a self-administered bee venom therapy (BVT) regimen. She ordered live honey bees weekly, keeping them in a “bee condo” in her apartment. With tweezers, she carefully applied bees to her skin, letting them sting her in targeted areas—10 stings per session, three times a week. Each sting was a calculated act of pain, a reminder of the swarm that changed everything. Over three years, she endured thousands of stings, slowly reducing the frequency as her symptoms dwindled. By 2014, Ellie was transformed—her pain was gone, her energy was back, and her mind was sharp. She needed only occasional stings to maintain her health.
Ellie turned her survival into a mission. She developed a BVT protocol, copyrighted in 2015, and wrote Bee Venom Therapy for Lyme Disease to share her story. She worked with Dr. Eva Sapi at the University of New Haven, whose research confirmed bee venom’s ability to kill Borrelia in lab tests. Ellie traveled across the U.S., teaching Lyme patients her method, and created a Facebook group, “Bee Venom Therapy For Lyme Disease,” to connect with others. Her story inspired people like Adriana Furey and Prezleigh Colburn, who also found relief through BVT.
The Risks and the Reality
Ellie’s recovery is nothing short of miraculous, but it’s not without shadows. BVT is dangerous, especially for someone like Ellie, whose allergy made every sting a gamble. She admitted the fine line between healing and harm, saying, “too much can kill you.” Doctors like Amy Edwards warn that BVT lacks clinical trials, and desperate Lyme patients may be drawn to it without understanding the risks—severe allergic reactions, tissue damage, or even death. Some question whether Ellie’s recovery was due to the venom, a placebo effect, or a rare spontaneous remission. Without rigorous studies, BVT remains a hope, not a cure.
A Legacy of Hope
Ellie’s life was reborn in that swarm. She founded BeeVinity By BeeGenics, selling bee venom beauty products to fund bee conservation and Lyme research. Her advocacy goes beyond Lyme disease, touching on the environment and the power of nature’s remedies. For Ellie, the bees that should have been her end became her salvation, a painful gift that gave her a second chance.
This therapy is now recognized to assist in a number of immune system destructions in including cancer.
In June 2011, Ellie Lobel was ready to die, her body and spirit broken by Lyme disease. The Africanized bee attack in Wildomar, California, was a brutal, terrifying moment that should have been her last. Instead, it was the beginning of a new life. Ellie’s story is a testament to the strange, unpredictable ways healing can come, but it’s also a sobering reminder of the risks of unproven treatments.
Her survival is a beacon for those still fighting, even as it calls for caution and further study. From the edge of death to a mission of hope, Ellie Lobel’s journey is one of pain, resilience, and an unlikely miracle.
—
References
•Wilcox, C. (2015). How a bee sting saved my life. Mosaic Science.
•Lobel, E. (2019). Bee Venom Therapy for Lyme Disease. Amazon.
•Embers, M., & Lewis, K. (2019). Bee venom therapy stories. Texas Monthly.
•Edwards, A. (2021). On alternative Lyme treatments. WINK News.
Note: This account is based on available reports and is shared with respect for Ellie’s experience. BVT is not medically endorsed, and readers should consult professionals before considering it.
A New Mission: Bee Venom Therapy
Ellie didn’t just survive; she fought to reclaim her life. Convinced the bees had saved her, she began a self-administered bee venom therapy (BVT) regimen. She ordered live honey bees weekly, keeping them in a “bee condo” in her apartment. With tweezers, she carefully applied bees to her skin, letting them sting her in targeted areas—10 stings per session, three times a week. Each sting was a calculated act of pain, a reminder of the swarm that changed everything. Over three years, she endured thousands of stings, slowly reducing the frequency as her symptoms dwindled. By 2014, Ellie was transformed—her pain was gone, her energy was back, and her mind was sharp. She needed only occasional stings to maintain her health.
Ellie turned her survival into a mission. She developed a BVT protocol, copyrighted in 2015, and wrote Bee Venom Therapy for Lyme Disease to share her story. She worked with Dr. Eva Sapi at the University of New Haven, whose research confirmed bee venom’s ability to kill Borrelia in lab tests. Ellie traveled across the U.S., teaching Lyme patients her method, and created a Facebook group, “Bee Venom Therapy For Lyme Disease,” to connect with others. Her story inspired people like Adriana Furey and Prezleigh Colburn, who also found relief through BVT.
The Risks and the Reality
Ellie’s recovery is nothing short of miraculous, but it’s not without shadows. BVT is dangerous, especially for someone like Ellie, whose allergy made every sting a gamble. She admitted the fine line between healing and harm, saying, “too much can kill you.” Doctors like Amy Edwards warn that BVT lacks clinical trials, and desperate Lyme patients may be drawn to it without understanding the risks—severe allergic reactions, tissue damage, or even death. Some question whether Ellie’s recovery was due to the venom, a placebo effect, or a rare spontaneous remission. Without rigorous studies, BVT remains a hope, not a cure.
A Legacy of Hope
Ellie’s life was reborn in that swarm. She founded BeeVinity By BeeGenics, selling bee venom beauty products to fund bee conservation and Lyme research. Her advocacy goes beyond Lyme disease, touching on the environment and the power of nature’s remedies. For Ellie, the bees that should have been her end became her salvation, a painful gift that gave her a second chance.
This therapy is now recognized to assist in a number of immune system destructions in including cancer.
In June 2011, Ellie Lobel was ready to die, her body and spirit broken by Lyme disease. The Africanized bee attack in Wildomar, California, was a brutal, terrifying moment that should have been her last. Instead, it was the beginning of a new life. Ellie’s story is a testament to the strange, unpredictable ways healing can come, but it’s also a sobering reminder of the risks of unproven treatments.
Her survival is a beacon for those still fighting, even as it calls for caution and further study. From the edge of death to a mission of hope, Ellie Lobel’s journey is one of pain, resilience, and an unlikely miracle.
—
References
•Wilcox, C. (2015). How a bee sting saved my life. Mosaic Science.
•Lobel, E. (2019). Bee Venom Therapy for Lyme Disease. Amazon.
•Embers, M., & Lewis, K. (2019). Bee venom therapy stories. Texas Monthly.
•Edwards, A. (2021). On alternative Lyme treatments. WINK News.
Note: This account is based on available reports and is shared with respect for Ellie’s experience. BVT is not medically endorsed, and readers should consult professionals before considering it.