By Beninu Andersen

Ministry School Talk – Age 11 in 1982

I am a 4th generation Jehovah’s Witness who disassociated 18 years ago in 2001. My father was a major figure in the organization—a computer science professor

My Father – Gerhard Nielsen

who developed software for translating the New World Translation into Danish and other European languages. He spent 19 years at the Danish branch office as part of the Hospital Information Services team. He served as chairman of the Danish Hospital Liaison Committee, coordinating efforts to ensure hospitalized Witnesses refused blood transfusions, even unto death.

The Crisis Begins

At seventeen, after two years of being baptized, I was seriously ill. Since age fifteen, I had experienced severe stomach pains, nausea, vomiting, and bloody diarrhea. At sixteen, I was diagnosed with severe Crohn’s Disease. Doctors warned that while many patients manage the condition with anti-inflammatory drugs, my case was developing rapidly toward requiring surgical treatment.

I immediately declared I would never accept a blood transfusion during surgery. This created a terrible predicament for doctors, as my condition caused malabsorption, resulting in dangerously low hemoglobin levels, compounded by internal bleeding. To accommodate my position, they postponed surgery and started me on experimental drugs that later proved worthless against Crohn’s Disease.

For two years, my condition deteriorated drastically. I became increasingly ill and fatigued, gasping for air after walking just a few meters. Showering and dressing became insurmountable tasks. As a high school student, I missed lessons and couldn’t complete homework due to exhaustion.

The Breaking Point

One day, severe stomach pains forced me to leave school after 15-20 minutes. I went to my parents’ house, and judging from my mother’s expression, I must have looked like a ghost. They immediately drove me to the hospital. The last thing I remember is walking down the hospital hallway before everything went black.

I have little recollection of the next 24 hours due to high fever and drifting in and out of consciousness. When I finally woke up, an ICU nurse was monitoring me constantly. I was connected to three different drips—antibiotics in both arms and lipid-rich nutrition through a central line directly to my heart to prevent organ deterioration from rapid weight loss.

The nurse revealed shocking news: I had collapsed and died twice from cardiac arrest shortly after arrival. My vague memories of people shouting my name were doctors and nurses performing CPR, intubating me, and using a defibrillator to restart my heart. “You died. Twice. It was sheer luck you arrived at the very last minute.”

The “Blood Drama” Begins

With surgery now unavoidable, the chief surgeon explained they needed to remove large portions of my intestines. My father, as Danish chairman of the Hospital Liaison Committee, was present during all medical discussions. When the professor confirmed that a massive surgery with significant blood loss risk was imminent, he wanted assurance that nothing could change my position on blood transfusions. I confirmed my stance, and my father supportively squeezed my shoulder.

At this time, the Watchtower Society was heavily promoting erythropoietin (EPO) as a wonder drug for Witness patients, despite insufficient knowledge of its risks and side effects. My father and other committee members treated EPO almost as a divine solution from Jehovah for surgical challenges.

Due to my critical condition, doctors agreed to try EPO treatment for four weeks to boost my hemoglobin before surgery—not to avoid surgery, but to reduce the risk of death from blood loss. They insisted on a minimum hemoglobin level of 4.0g/dL (mine was already hovering between 4.5-5.5g/dL). They also required blood thinners due to thrombosis risk from high EPO doses, despite my father’s objections.

Pre-Surgery Confrontations

After four weeks, my hemoglobin had slightly increased from 4.5 to 5.6g/dL—still extremely low, but improved. My father triumphantly acted as if he’d won a contest. The doctors explained they would ask me one final time in the operating theater if I had any second thoughts about blood transfusion, as some Witness patients had changed their minds in such situations. My father scoffed hysterically at this suggestion.

Late that evening at 10:30 PM, my father suddenly demanded they move the town’s only cell-saver machine from another hospital to ours for my surgery the next morning. When the resident surgeon explained this was impossible—the machine was booked, required special training, and wasn’t suitable for small bowel procedures—my father insisted on speaking to the professor.

The Professor’s Ultimatum

Past midnight, the professor arrived from home and calmly but firmly addressed my father:

“This is where I draw the line. I have done these operations for more than 30 years. I am a professor at the university, and you are in the finest hospital in the country for these procedures. I have done thousands of these operations, several on Jehovah’s Witnesses, and they have always been pleased with their treatment. Tomorrow was my day off, but I personally decided to do the operation to minimize blood loss.

“We have already waited four weeks longer than I was comfortable with because you wanted to try massive EPO treatment—which we did free of charge despite the cost. His hemoglobin count increased slightly, but his intestinal disease is worsening daily, so now there is nothing more we can do.

“I have studied all the Watchtower material to understand your wishes regarding medical treatment. Some of the medical information is outdated or untrue, but I view this as an ethical choice that all adults can make based on their religious values. But you want to teach me how to do this better than I already do.

“I know you’ll next ask for Acute Normovolemic Hemodilution—not a good choice for intestinal operations. Then you’ll suggest Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy, requiring the surgical team to work in restrictive conditions that greatly outweigh any benefits, and our facilities aren’t equipped for this anyway.

“I feel convinced I can do this surgery without significant blood loss, but if we wait further, I withdraw that statement and refuse to take the risk! It’s past midnight, and surgery is at 8 AM. I need sleep to be well-rested, particularly since we have no plan B if an artery bursts during the procedure.”

My mother grabbed my father’s arm to stop him from responding further and apologized to the professor for waking him.

Successful Surgery and Recovery

The surgery went extremely well. During the four-hour procedure, I lost only about 200ml of blood—virtually nothing for major abdominal surgery. The waiting period had an unforeseen benefit: the cortisone therapy had significantly improved intestinal inflammation. Instead of the expected permanent ileostomy, the professor was able to reconnect my intestines normally.

Over the next nine years, I had five more surgeries with the same skilled professor. Then I had a 17-year break from operations. Meanwhile, I had long since disassociated from the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

The Ultimate Test—26 Years Later

At age 42, twelve years after disassociating, I came home to find an ambulance and doctor waiting. Blood tests showed critically low hemoglobin and dangerously low potassium affecting my heart rhythm. At the hospital, doctors explained I needed iron infusions, potassium, and four bags of blood.

Despite being out of the organization for over a decade and considering myself an atheist, I experienced a moment of “autopilot” hesitation—a shocking reminder of how deeply rooted undue influence can become. Years earlier, I had already contacted all hospitals and my GP to remove the “No blood transfusions – Jehovah’s Witness” warnings from my medical records.

When I saw the blood bags and watched the blood flowing through the tube toward my vein, I had goosebumps and momentarily considered stopping the transfusion. This thought process lasted only 5-10 seconds, but it scared me to see how deeply embedded this conditioning remained even after so many years.

Liberation and Gratitude

Once the blood began flowing into my vein, something profound happened. Instead of fear or disgust, I felt amazement and overwhelming gratitude toward the anonymous donor who had unselfishly given their blood to help a stranger. Tears welled up in my eyes at this pure act of altruism, especially knowing Denmark’s blood supply relies entirely on unpaid volunteers.

More importantly, I felt a sensation of victory over the Watchtower organization. This blood transfusion became a rite of passage—a defining moment where I finally cut the last chain binding me to the organization, a chain I hadn’t even realized existed until twelve years after leaving.

I openly share this account to illustrate how deep undue influence can be buried in your mind, surfacing unexpectedly years after emancipation. Even former Witnesses who’ve been out twenty years sometimes still refer to their former religion as “the truth.” I shouldn’t have felt immune to this conditioning after 29 years in the organization, but now I’m better prepared if it surfaces again.

Final Reflections

The Watchtower’s blood doctrine creates distorted fear about transfusion risks. Hospitals don’t waste precious blood reserves—they have strict management protocols and only transfuse when absolutely necessary. Even if someone contracted HIV or hepatitis from a transfusion (risks now negligible), these conditions are treatable, and life with them is preferable to death without transfusion.

My wife contracted Hepatitis-C from a blood transfusion during emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy years ago. Despite this, she would choose the same treatment again—she’d rather be alive with Hep-C than dead without it. Today, 26 years later, she shows no liver damage and lives a full, active life. Modern Hepatitis-C treatment offers a 4-6 week cure if needed.

At 47, I’ve retired and spend my time traveling with my wife and supporting charities in Sri Lanka. Life after the Watchtower has profound meaning, and I’ve vowed not to waste any remaining days on things I’m coerced into by undue influence.