Friday, May 22, 2015

I've been Floxed

Two weeks ago, I had never heard of the word "flox," or the phrase "getting floxed," or the endearing name "floxie." It's amazing what can change in eleven days. People that have had serious adverse reactions to fluoroquinolone antibiotics such as Cipro (ciprofloxacin), Levaquin (levofloxacin), and Avelox (moxifloxacin) have dubbed themselves "Floxies," and now I am in their club.

A bit of background before we get started. The last several months have held some serious health challenges for me: I had a terrible, severe upper respiratory infection that lasted eight weeks from October to December, I broke my tailbone in January, I had a sinus infection  in February, and I caught strep in March. Somehow, in April, I escaped from the health snowball I'd found myself in.

At the start of May, that changed however. I woke up early in the month with a hacking, productive cough that was eerily similar to the way my bronchitis had begun last winter, and in an effort to avoid getting ill like that again, I went immediately to my doctor. She agreed that it was prudent to treat this aggressively and gave me a prescription for an antibiotic called Levaquin. I had taken the same drug in the winter, after a Z-pack (azythromycin) and Keflex (cephalexin) had both failed to alleviate my symptoms. I believed that I had tolerated Levaquin before, and was eager to complete this course of medicine and stop my bronchitis before it really got started.

Nine days later I found myself in my doctor's office once again, this time in agony. Every joint in my body--and I *do* mean every joint--felt as if it was simultaneously broken and on fire. My neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, knuckles, hips, knees, ankles, and spine ached and sparked electric fire with even the smallest movement.

I was aware of the black box warning on Levaquin that was added by the FDA in 2008 warning of the risk of tendon rupture, especially of the Achilles tendon, in certain vulnerable patient populations. I have never had a ruptured tendon, and not knowing what that pain would be, I was not confident that I was experiencing that side effect. I DID know, however, that something was terribly wrong.

In many ways, I am quite lucky. My primary care doctor and the nurse practitioners in his office are amazing, capable, compassionate individuals. The APRN that I saw quickly diagnosed a reaction to the medicine and insisted that I stop taking it immediately. She had no better suggestion for me than to rest and drink plenty of water, unfortunately.

Each day since then has been a challenge--physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. I am consumed by pain, which is frightening in its intensity. It migrates from joint to joint, with one day my shoulders feeling the worst, then the next day it's my hips, and then the next it's my ankles. I am exhausted, I am cranky, I am depressed, and I am stressed out. All because of a medication that I took in good faith in an effort not to get worse.

Oh, the irony.

The good news--which I am holding on to with all the zeal of a bulldog--is that I was diagnosed quickly. Google helped me find the thousands and thousands of other people like me, people that were injured while taking a medication prescribed by their trusted medical professionals, and that were now left coping with a series of conditions that are difficult at best, and crippling at worst. Connecting with communities of others that have experienced the same symptoms is both uplifting and demoralizing.

I was literally in tears the first night as I crash-coursed my way through the many, many articles about the dangers of fluoroquinolone antibiotics. There were an overwhelming number of personal accounts detailing how profoundly people had been affected by the medication they had taken. It was difficult, in fact, to find positive stories, stories of survivors and thrivers.

I am still in the "acute" phase, which the general consensus tells me will last approximately a month. My doctor seems to think I will take six to eight weeks before recovering completely. I have read one story after another from other "floxies" that show a more sobering timeline: often six months to two years, if not longer before life gets back to some sort of normal.

I'm not going down without a fight, however. After all the challenges I have faced in my life, THIS is not how I'm going down. This will not be the end of me, if I have to fight tooth and nail to make it happen. So, if you have recently discovered that you, too, are a floxie, don't you dare give up hope. Yes, this sucks. It sucks beyond all possible reasoning, and not many people around you are going to truly understand the magnitude of what you are dealing with.

But don't give up.

There is an abundance of information at your fingertips via the Internet, there are support groups on Facebook and Twitter, and there are websites whose sole message is one of hope and healing. Two of my favorites can be found here and here. Educate yourself. Reach out to others. Surround yourself with loving family and friends that will support you while you heal. And most of all, don't give up hope.

Please check back soon, as I will be following up with my progress, and hopefully will have some more information for you regarding what treatments have worked for me, and what hasn't helped. 

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