Forgetting the Pain of Floxing

Getting floxed was the most difficult thing that I have ever gone through.  Getting sick, and all of the struggles that went along with it, was difficult physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.  To have my body suddenly fall apart was scary.  To have my mind fall apart along with my body, was terrifying.  Getting floxed tore down parts of me that I thought were solid.  It took what I thought were my greatest strengths, my physical and mental capabilities, and made them my weaknesses.  I had to find strength in a part of myself that I previously didn’t know existed, my spirit, in order to make it through.  Through trial and error, perseverance, dumb luck, support and probably some other factors, I made it.  I have recovered.

Getting floxed was also the most traumatizing thing that I have ever experienced.  It took me longer to get through the PTSD and shock of getting sick/poisoned than it took me to get through the physical or mental deficiencies.  The emotional turmoil involved in getting poisoned by a perfectly legal, prescription antibiotic was, well, traumatizing.  But I think that I have recovered from the trauma as well.

As life has gone on, as it has returned to normal, as I have gained my capabilities back and gotten over the pain and shock, I have started to forget what it was like to be sick.  I have forgotten the pain.  I have forgotten the desperation.  I am forgetting the fear.  Even the anger is leaving me.

It’s odd to forget.  It’s odd to not remember a big chunk of my life (from December, 2011 through August-ish, 2013).  It’s odd that something that defined my life is leaving my consciousness.  It’s odd that I am forgetting what helped me and what hurt me.  It’s odd that I am even forgetting the trauma, because it isn’t traumatic for me anymore.  I have recovered and it’s just… gone.

It went away.  All of it.  Even the memories.

It’s perplexing to lose the memories of my floxing.  I feel like I need those memories in order to do what I do – write about fluoroquinolone toxicity, advocate for change in how fluoroquinolones are thought about and administered, empathize and offer advice to those who are struggling, etc.  But the memories are fading.  They’re leaving.

It’s healthy to forget, I’m sure.  I’m sure that it’s best for my mind, spirit and even body to forget the pain, suffering and fear.  It’s best to let it go.

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But it is odd to lose my memories.  Of course I don’t miss the pain, fear or anger.  But I’m a little worried that in losing my memories I will lose my passion, my drive and my purpose.  Advocating for change in the policies surrounding fluoroquinolones is important, and I intend to keep doing it.  As time goes on and my memories fade, I fear that I will lose focus and that I will forget my passion.

I wish you all healing.  I wish you all hope.  I wish you all forgetting.  May you forget the pain.  May you forget the sickness.  May you forget the fear.   May you forget the anger.

But I encourage you to not forget the fight.  It’s a good and worthy fight.  Though I may forget how it felt to go through getting floxed myself, I’ll try to remember that there is nothing that is okay about other people going through it.  I will keep in mind that people are suffering needlessly – and that’s wrong.  I will keep in mind that these drugs are being given to innocent children and that they are being hurt.  It’s horrifying and it needs to stop.  I’ll keep fighting.  And I’ll keep reminding myself about why I fight through listening to your stories.

As you recover, when you see that light at the end of the tunnel and you know that a full recovery is on the horizon, please write down your story and, if you want to share it, send it to me to publish on Floxie Hope.  If you don’t write it down, you will forget it.  That’s not an altogether bad thing, but other people can benefit from your wisdom if you write down your story while it’s still fresh in your mind.

Forgetting the pain and sickness is healthy.  May you get well enough to let your floxing be a distant, faded memory.  The fight is different from the sickness.  You can forget about the sickness while still remaining in the fight.  IMO – it’s excellent to do both.

 

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9 thoughts on “Forgetting the Pain of Floxing

  1. Im learning to believe in myself again, learning to feel sure of my decisions on small things like beliving my brain telling me I have less pain, believing my brain telling me its not THAT cold, Ive gone through so much crap and pain I feel I might need someone to guide me on feeling more sure of myself after losing all self assurance due to dizziness, pain, doctors and nurses belittling my symptoms, but my own brain reminds me and screams nobody will be able to guide me cuz nobody – psychologists or shrinks – understand. They actually make it worse. I SHOULD BELIEVE MYSELF, MY COMMON SENSE, MY INTUTION, MY OWN SENSORY AND PERCEPTIONS TO THIS NEW ME! … I hope this good wave Im having lasts !

    • Lisa Bloomquist January 15, 2014 at 10:18 pm Reply

      I hope that your good wave lasts as well!

      One of the things that getting floxed gave me is that it got rid of my reverence for several categories of people – doctors, scientists, experts, etc. I know more about fluoroquinolone toxicity than most of them. That doesn’t make them horrible people, it just makes them my equal.

      For matters of your own body, there is no one who is more of an expert than you. Have confidence in what you are feeling – it is true and correct. Your feelings are valid no matter what.

  2. Ruth Young July 14, 2014 at 9:05 am Reply

    I am encouraged to read that you actually were able to get over the trauma of being floxed. I have wondered myself if I will be able to actually deal with everything that happened to me. Because I haven’t dealt with it yet. I don’t think there is any quick way to hurry up and get over it. It’s like when I was widowed when I was 25 and friends thought that if I was still sad after a month that would be way too long and a sign of mental illness or something. In reality, the first year was horrible, and getting through each day a victory. I think being floxed may be the same way– even after I’m recovered it’s going to take a lot of time, and people who would say, “You’re better now, so everything is fine,” just don’t get it, anymore than my young friends understood what grief is really like, not having experienced it themselves.

    I’m not ever going to be the same as I was before I was floxed and I’m hoping I can hang onto the good changes– like watching more carefully what I put into my body and just taking better care of myself in general. My faith has been strengthened and I hope I can keep on listening to Contemporary Christian in the car and actually paying attention through sermons instead of daydreaming and taking time to pray.

    The not so good changes are things like being afraid to try to go to sleep because I might have a panic attack in my sleep. I hate being awakened by intense feelings of fear and it happened again yesterday when I took an afternoon nap with my husband. But after three times of waking up with my heart pounding it stopped happening and I slept normally in the afternoon and during the whole night. My insomnia isn’t lasting all night anymore. I haven’t had the horrible symptom of increased pain (burning sensations, myalgia and tinnitus) caused by my trying to just relax in months, but I still fear them so much that I sometimes keep myself from relaxing. I won’t even realize I’m doing it at first. I have to consciously work at letting go of that fear and worry.

    That’s why I say this is taking depths of courage I never knew I had. Sure, it took courage to get through the acute phase. But accepting that I am getting better and that it is ok to live a normal life are hard things sometimes. For a long time I couldn’t get to sleep at night unless I started relaxing/meditating at about 4 p.m. at the latest. I was so fatigued by then anyway that I didn’t care. Sometimes it’s scary when I have to be busy until late at night. I feel like, “Wait. I’m sick. I can’t do all this.” I have to keep reminding myself that I am getting better, and I can do whatever it is I need or want to do. I’m middle aged. I don’t expect to have the stamina of a teenager. But I am trying hard not to live like I’m 90 just because I felt that way for a couple of months.

    • Lisa Cermelj December 12, 2015 at 8:34 am Reply

      This is very much how I feel after being floxed 8 months ago. Thank you, Ruth!

      • Ruth Young December 12, 2015 at 5:15 pm Reply

        I would say I am very nearly over it all now. I feel more like myself as symptoms decrease. I don’t fear going to bed in the evenings. I’m ok with pushing my body a little. I’m not afraid it’s going to fail me all the time. I feel like I am slowly making my way back to being fully the person I was before I was floxed. I hope we all can get to that point– maybe even being better than before.

  3. Aidan December 11, 2015 at 12:26 pm Reply

    Has he mentioned what he took to feel better diet vitamins minerals etc etc ???

  4. Lisa Cermelj December 12, 2015 at 8:36 am Reply

    Than you, Lisa! You are such an inspiration and have given me so much hope! I will be forever grateful for all these positive stories during such a negative experience. God bless!

  5. Better now March 29, 2016 at 5:56 pm Reply

    Floxed in early 2010 and recovered by March 2011. I remember the fear, pain, and anger. But the trauma is gone. Wanted to assure those going through it that recovery IS possible and likely. Life WILL be normal again. I feel stronger than before in some ways. Sending love to all currently suffering.

    • Lisa March 29, 2016 at 6:13 pm Reply

      Thank you so much for this message! If you’re interested in writing a recovery story, please let me know. You can reach me through the contact link on this site. 🙂

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