A Matter of Life and Death

This journal was begun in the 28th month after getting “floxed”, which is a slang term used by those who have received a toxic dose of a fluoroquinolone drug. It took 26th months to figure out I’d been floxed, and a month of focused reading and research to come up with a plan to address the systemic damage to my body. It is the beginning of October, 2014, and at the time of this writing I am a 51 year old, 130 lb, 5’4″ biological female… and over the past 8 months, I’ve struggled to find a desire to continue living. I’m also atheist, a witch, and a skeptic regarding claims of any afterlife, so I don’t look forward to a future past my death that is joyful and pain-free. All I have is right now, this minute, and the contentment that can be found in simply living.

I’m in a great deal of pain. Unnecessary, needless pain that I feel was carelessly inflicted on me by unfounded faith in FDA approved pharmaceuticals by medical practitioners I trusted to have my best interests at heart.

In 2004, I was in fantastic health. I was 140 lbs. of muscle. I worked out 3 times a week, walked a lot, and worked a full-time job, ran a part-time business, and supported my ex-husband through college while performing the bulk of housekeeping and parenting tasks. After he graduated, I divorced him and spent the next 5 years in court trying to protect my disabled son from him.

The stress was intense. By 2006, I was very tired, and wasn’t sleeping due to threats my ex-husband made, and my primary care doctor insisted that I was suffering from “situational depression” and pushed antidepressants at me. Over the next year, I tried a number of prescriptions and suffered a myriad of side effects from edema and inflammation to tics and convulsions. I developed diarrhea that lasted 6 months and my intestines stopped working. I ended up with a referral for a colonoscopy, and was informed that I needed to get off of SSRI medications because they were the cause of my issues. I stopped taking the SSRIs, but I didn’t get better. In 2007, I started seeing a new therapist and was diagnosed with PTSD. I was still under unrelenting stress, and my body was bloated. I weighed 165 lbs and my gut remained spastic. Some days I could barely leave the house.

I’m a fighter, so while still caring for my 2 kids, I followed every lead I could trying to regain my health. I underwent Prolonged Exposure Therapy for my PTSD, and I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and sent to a pain clinic. I had a bad reaction to gabapentin and swore I was done with pharmaceuticals.

In 2010, I could barely walk up one flight of stairs. My tummy was so bloated I could not reach my feet. I found the name of a naturopath who specializes in chronic fatigue syndrome and started seeing him. First, he ran a battery of tests, including food allergies. Then he tailored my diet and supplement regimen accordingly. 2 months later, I had lost 30 lbs. of water weight and was starting to get some energy back. 2 years later, I had started my life over including having a social life and a love life and was looking forward to building a new profession.

Then in May of 2012 I had some tummy issues. I went in to my naturopath and was a little bloated, but no indication that my appendix was going to rupture, which it did, spectacularly, the next month.

I stayed home for four days, convinced I had the stomache flu, but blood in my urine prompted a friend to rush me to the local ER. Once there, I was immediately admitted to the hospital and put on Cipro IV without disclosure of the myriad of dangerous side effects.

I healed from the infection and my body sealed off my appendix, so surgery was not necessary, but over the next 18 months my health steadily deteriorated. The first symptoms showed up in the hospital, and I thought they appeared because I was dealing with a life-threatening infection, but they never went away. Subsequent symptoms brought me into my doctor’s office repeatedly, and to the emergency room twice, but each time the symptoms were blamed on menopause, my fibromyalgia “progressing” (whatever that means), or anxiety.

I am tired of being marginalized, so in past month I developed a radical plan to recover my health involving vibrational sound and light and microbiome replenishment. I don’t know if it will work, but I hope so. Because some of my friends are curious, I started this blog.