Sarah and David’s story
We didn’t set out to build a bioresonance business.
When all of this began, neither of us knew very much about bioresonance.
We were simply a family living in Leeds, with two children, a family business, holidays to look forward to and all the usual things that fill everyday life.
Then Sarah became seriously ill.
What followed changed our lives and eventually led us somewhere neither of us could have imagined.
When everyday life became almost impossible.
Sarah had always been in generally good health. After our children started school, she returned to the family business. She’d previously been diagnosed with an underactive thyroid and prescribed Levothyroxine, which seemed to help, and for several years life carried on normally.
Then, towards the end of 2007, things began to change.
Sarah started experiencing an overwhelming exhaustion. It wasn’t the kind of tiredness that sleep could put right. Her energy seemed to disappear completely, leaving her struggling with even the simplest everyday tasks. Eventually, she had no choice but to stop working.
She was also losing weight and had developed an unusual tan-like colour to her skin, despite us not having been abroad for some time.
We visited the doctors more than once, but the seriousness of her condition wasn’t initially recognised. We heard comments along the lines of, “You’ve got children, of course you’re tired,” and suggestions that it might all be in her head.
Meanwhile, Sarah was becoming progressively weaker. I was trying to keep working, look after the children and manage everything at home, but what worried me most was watching my wife deteriorate without knowing why.
We were becoming desperate.
Then my mum started writing everything down.
Sometimes a seemingly small decision changes everything.
My mum could see how unwell Sarah had become. She took her to her house and began writing down her symptoms and medical history, determined to find some explanation.
Her research led her to a book by Dr Gordon Skinner, Diagnosis and Management of Hypothyroidism. In it, she came across Addison’s disease, a rare condition affecting the adrenal glands.
Armed with that information, we went back to our GP.
By this point, Sarah was so weak that I virtually had to carry her into the surgery.
Fortunately, the doctor we saw that day took her symptoms seriously. He examined her carefully, particularly the unusual pigmentation of her skin and the darker creases of her hands.
He suspected Addison’s disease and told us Sarah needed to see an endocrinologist. He also instructed me to fetch the car rather than have her walk back to it.
We thought we were simply waiting for a referral.
Only afterwards did we learn, through a friend who worked at the surgery, that the doctor had immediately asked the staff to contact local hospitals to find somewhere that could see Sarah urgently.
We still hadn’t appreciated quite how serious things were.
Finally, we had an answer.
At the hospital, the endocrinologist also suspected Addison’s disease and arranged tests to measure Sarah’s cortisol levels.
I remember the figures we were given.
We were told that a normal resting reading should have been around 300 on the scale they were using.
Sarah’s was just 35.
Following an injection designed to stimulate cortisol production, we were told the level should rise to around 600.
Sarah’s only reached 135.
The consultant was sufficiently concerned that he sent us home with the medication Sarah would need, instructing us to wait for a telephone call before starting it.
That call came the same afternoon. Sarah was told to begin taking the medication immediately.
She had Addison’s disease.
Addison’s is a rare but serious condition in which the adrenal glands don’t produce enough essential hormones, particularly cortisol and often aldosterone. These hormones help regulate blood pressure, fluid and salt balance, and the body’s response to illness and physical stress. Without appropriate treatment, the condition can become life-threatening.
What we hadn’t realised was just how close Sarah had come to that point.
The consultant told Sarah that if we had waited another two weeks, she wouldn’t have been here.
Those words have stayed with us ever since.
There was enormous relief in finally knowing what was wrong, but also the shock of realising how close we’d come to losing her.
Sarah was prescribed Hydrocortisone and Fludrocortisone, alongside the Levothyroxine she was already taking. These medications replaced hormones her body could no longer produce adequately and were essential to keeping her alive.
We were incredibly fortunate that her condition had been recognised in time.
Life after the diagnosis.
We’d been told that with the right medication, people with Addison’s disease could often lead relatively normal lives.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite what Sarah experienced.
She struggled with weight gain, weakness in her muscles and ligaments, and considerable physical discomfort. Even walking a relatively short distance could leave her aching and exhausted.
We raised our concerns with her doctors, particularly as some of these problems were listed among the possible side effects in the medication information. We were told the steroid doses were low and shouldn’t be causing significant problems.
Whatever the explanation, Sarah’s quality of life remained severely affected.
We were grateful for the medication that had saved her life, but we also wanted to explore whether anything else might help support her wellbeing alongside it.
That’s when bioresonance came back into the conversation.
Our first experience of bioresonance.
Over the years, quite a few friends had told us about their experiences with bioresonance.
I’d listened politely, but hadn’t paid much attention. I was naturally sceptical of complementary therapies, and neither of us had any real experience of them.
But our circumstances had changed.
I began researching bioresonance and eventually booked Sarah an appointment with a local practitioner.
The appointment took place in somebody’s home. The practitioner was running more than an hour late, and when we eventually went in, Sarah sat in a chair while he worked with a frequency device and tested responses using a biotensor.
I’d never seen anything like it.
The session lasted around 90 minutes, and we left without really knowing what to expect.
Later that evening, however, we noticed something.
Sarah would normally lie on the sofa before bed, and getting up again and climbing the stairs was often painful and difficult.
That evening, she managed it with noticeably less discomfort.
It might sound like a small thing, but when you’ve watched someone struggle with ordinary activities for so long, small improvements can mean an enormous amount.
We couldn’t know exactly what had caused the difference, but it was enough to make me curious.
I started investigating properly.
At the time, I worked in executive recruitment. Researching companies, speaking to people and asking difficult questions were all part of my working life.
So that’s what I did.
I contacted bioresonance manufacturers and practitioners around the world, investigated different systems and travelled to meet people already using the technology.
During that period, I also experienced some worrying health symptoms of my own.
I developed persistent headaches and neck pain, followed by problems with my concentration and memory. Writing emails and proposals, something I did every day, suddenly became difficult.
I visited my GP, but the initial blood tests didn’t reveal an explanation.
Still concerned, I decided to visit the same bioresonance practitioner Sarah had seen.
Because I was researching the therapy, I didn’t initially tell him about my symptoms. I asked for a general wellbeing check instead.
After about ten minutes of testing, he stopped and told me he’d found something concerning.
He identified what he believed was information associated with meningococcus, a bacterium that can cause serious infections.
I was surprised because he knew nothing about my symptoms or my recent GP visit.
I understood that bioresonance testing wasn’t a medical diagnosis, but the experience certainly caught my attention.
Over the following days, my headaches and neck pain cleared, and within about a week I felt that my concentration and memory had returned to normal.
I couldn’t say what had caused the improvement, but between Sarah’s experience and my own, I was becoming increasingly interested in what bioresonance might have to offer.
One name kept coming up.
BICOM®.
As I spoke to practitioners and researched different systems, I kept hearing the same name.
Eventually, I contacted the company in Germany and found myself speaking to its International Sales Director.
I explained Sarah’s story, my own experience and why I’d become so interested in the technology.
His response surprised me.
He offered to get on a plane and come to see me.
As I learned more about BICOM®, the technology, the practitioner knowledge surrounding it and the support behind it, I became increasingly convinced it was the system I wanted.
There was just one problem.
I already had a business.
I didn’t want to become a therapist.
I just wanted a BICOM®.
So I became the UK agent.
There’s probably a more impressive origin story I could tell.
But the truth is much better.
Becoming the UK agent meant I could get a good discount on a demonstration device.
So I did.
I began learning how to use it, initially working with Sarah, family members and friends.
People started talking about their experiences. One introduction led to another, and gradually something I’d never intended to turn into a business began becoming one.
It grew entirely through word of mouth.
But the most important part of the story was still what was happening at home.
What regular bioresonance has meant to Sarah.
Over time, Sarah began to feel that her general wellbeing was improving.
She still had Addison’s disease and needed to manage her condition carefully, but she felt that regular BICOM sessions were helping her cope with some of the additional difficulties she experienced.
As the business grew, however, I became increasingly busy supplying devices, supporting practitioners and looking after therapy clients.
Eventually, I couldn’t keep up with everything, and Sarah’s own weekly sessions became less regular.
She noticed the difference.
In 2015, Chris joined the business and took responsibility for the therapy side, Reson8. This allowed me to concentrate on BICOM UK and, just as importantly, meant Sarah could return to having her weekly sessions.
Those sessions have remained an important part of her life ever since.
Sarah feels strongly about this, and it’s something she wanted us to explain properly.
She sincerely believes that without her regular bioresonance sessions, her health and quality of life would be in a much worse position today.
She can tell when she misses a session. She notices the difference in how she feels, and when she has her treatment again, she can feel the benefits.
For Sarah, it isn’t simply something we tried years ago and then moved on from. It’s something she continues to value every week.
In her words, the difference it makes to her quality of life is enormous.
That doesn’t mean Addison’s disease has disappeared. She still needs her medication and ongoing medical care, and she still has to be mindful of her limitations.
But compared with those frightening early years, Sarah feels she has regained a level of wellbeing and independence that means a great deal to her.
For us, that is what matters most.
What began with Sarah became something much bigger.
What started as a personal search for answers gradually developed into the businesses you see today.
Reson8 became our therapy practice, where Chris works directly with clients.
BICOM UK developed into the professional side of the business, supplying BICOM devices, training practitioners and providing ongoing support.
And Bioresonance.org became the place where we could share information, research, practitioner experience and our own story.
None of it was planned.
What began with one family trying to understand a serious illness eventually led us to people and experiences we would otherwise never have encountered.
We didn’t start with bioresonance and go looking for a story. We started with Sarah. Bioresonance became part of hers.
Why we’re telling you this.
Not because Sarah’s experience predicts yours.
It doesn’t.
And not because we think everyone should make the same choices we made.
We tell it because it explains why we’re here.
Why we’re interested in the questions people ask when they feel they haven’t finished exploring.
Why we care about the difference between making promises and sharing experience.
Why we use BICOM ourselves.
Why we train practitioners rather than simply sell them a device.
And why, after all these years, this still feels personal.
Meet the people behind Bioresonance.org →
This is our family’s personal account. It describes our experiences and the choices we made, not medical advice or evidence that others will experience the same outcomes. Bioresonance is a complementary approach and is not a substitute for diagnosis, prescribed medication or treatment from an appropriately qualified healthcare professional.