One Month Post Flox

One month ago my world changed, perhaps permanently.

As you may have seen in my last post, the newest word in my dictionary is "flox." I imagine that you have never heard of the word before now, and if you haven't then you can certainly count yourself a lucky one. Of course, it's not necessarily a word recognized by the medical community, but if you are one of the luckier floxing sufferers you have a doctor or medical professional that is familiar with the devastating side effects drugs such as Cipro, Levaquin, and Avelox cause.

Perhaps the greatest side effect, that you will likely never see on any manufacturer's packaging insert, is the loss of self.

It's not the breath-stealing pain exploding in my joints. It's not the burning ache smoldering in my muscles and tendons. It's not the vertigo that causes the room to whirl like an out of control carnival ride. It's not the stiffness in my spine that makes it impossible to bend, twist, or lean. It's not the emotional upheaval from having your world stolen overnight by a medicine.

The worst thing, for me, is feeling like I've lost myself. I was a wife, a mother, a friend, and a full-time employee. Six pills was all it took to steal that from me. Instead of an active participant in my life, I am a bystander. I am a lonely onlooker, excruciatingly aware of what I had one short month ago, and what I no longer have.

Keep your head up, they say. It will get better, they say, It won't last forever, they say. But they don't live my life. They don't walk in my shoes. They don't have to look their loved ones in the eyes and say, for the thousandth time, "I can't."

This post isn't supposed to be about doom and gloom. And I certainly haven't given up. But this fight is a hard one. It's one of the hardest thing I've been faced with in my entire life. I'm just one month in, and still in what most would call the acute phase. I very likely have many more months ahead of me before I ever get back to normal.

Until then I will continue to fight for a new normal, and ignore the pain, the muscle cramps, the balance problems, and the depression. Until then, I will continue to push for therapies that help relive my symptoms and give me back myself. Until then, I will continue to look my seven year old daughter in the eyes and say, "I can't right now, but mommy won't stop trying."