A friend recently wrote me and said (basically), “While I appreciate your efforts in telling people that recovery is possible, I am not going to recover.  Too much damage has been done.  Some of the damage is irreparable.  I just need to come to terms with it.”

She knows her body, so who am I to argue with her?  She knows that the cartilage in her joints is not going to grow back.  She knows that she will never be able to do the physical things that she used to do with ease before she got floxed, because some of the damage done to her truly is permanent.  She will never run, she will never jump, she will never skydive or play soccer.

She has to come to terms with these things – these limitations that were unfairly and unjustly inflicted upon her.

She IS coming to terms with them.  As difficult as it is, she is finding peace and acceptance of her current condition and realistic future prospects.

Her story is not one of doom and gloom though.  Her story is one of perseverance and strength.  It is an amazing, beautiful recovery story.

My friend has come so, so, incredibly far.  She was completely paralyzed for a while – to the point where she couldn’t even chew and blinking was painful.  Now she can stand and even take a few steps.  She is working hard, with physical and mental therapy, to recover.  And she is recovering.  She is improving every single day.  She is working incredibly hard to do things that most people take for granted – chewing, walking, showering, having lunch with friends, etc.  She is doing those things.  Each one of those things is an accomplishment.  Each one shows recovery.  Each step that she takes is the result of a huge amount of strength, perseverance and bravery.

I don’t want to go into more details because her story is for her to tell, not me.

When she is ready, I think that she will have a recovery story here on Floxie Hope.  Because she IS recovering.

I am lucky in that I have been able to get back to the level of health that I was before I got floxed (other than being horribly out of shape).  I can do the things that I used to do before I got sick.  But returning to one’s pre-sickness capacity is not the only way to “recover.”  Recovery can mean progress.  In my mind, recovery means getting to a place in your health journey where you are okay with where you’re at.  You’re not perfect – but you probably never were.  You’re at peace with what you can and cannot do.  Life has gone on.  It has been a struggle, but you have come far.  You have recovered many of your abilities and you are working on getting more back, but you know that life will go on and that you are okay just as you are.  That is recovery that is just as valid as being able to do the things that you used to be able to do before you got sick.

My friend is getting there.  She is recovering.  And I am very proud of her for how far she has come.

The cartilage in her knees may never come back.  It’s the reality of the situation.  But another reality is that she has made incredible progress toward an amazing recovery.  She has further to go, and she is working on it.  She’s working hard every day and her hard work is paying off.  She already has an amazing story of perseverance, tenacity, strength and progress.  And when she gets to where she feels good about where she’s at, when she can say that she’s recovered, I hope that she’ll tell her story on Floxie Hope.

Sadly, and through no fault of their own, some people don’t recover from fluoroquinolone toxicity.  They are hurt too badly to recover.  They are hurt in ways that are insurmountable and no treatment can get them to a place where they feel okay about where they are.  Some people get worse and worse.  Some people die.  It’s tragic and it’s wrong.  My heart goes out to those people who are suffering, who are not recovering.  I am so sorry for your pain.  Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I feel sorrow.

But knowing that your tendons will never be what they used to be, or that your endurance is now sub-par, or that your cartilage is too disintegrated to come back, does not mean that you won’t recover.  Sure, it means that you won’t get back to where you used to be.  But you can still make progress.  You can still do amazing things.  You can still recover.  My friend will prove it.

Thank you for reading Floxie Hope!  I hope that all who read Floxie Hope gain insight, support, understanding and, most of all, HOPE.  If you would like to support Floxie Hope, all contributions will be greatly appreciated!  Click HERE to contribute to Floxie Hope.  Thank you!

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