Fluoroquinolone toxicity - 2-3 years later - photos

Photos of the hideous effects on hair, skin, muscles, fascia, fingernails (always dirty because they're so rough and ridged.)

Two and a half years and still rotting.

The most important part of this page is at the bottom.

None of us should be smiling.

This third winter has finished me. I knew it would - I knew ages ago - but I still hadn't understood the extent of people's wickedness:

Sometimes not too bad

I do try!

22.03.2012:  I'd lost a lot of hair, but it all grew back.

03.05.2012: Then another attack of cold, tender prickling and suddenly, in the space of a few days - whoosh!

Lately, my mouth has gone soggy and floppy. It flops to the left. I have to remind mysef and make a conscious e ffort to shut it, but it soon flops again.

 

Never before have I had that expression, or a hint of such an expression, even for an instant, because never before have I felt what I feel recently, never, ever. You know what it is, don't you? It's the sign that hatred and bitterness are getting into me. Until a few weeks ago – around mid-May, because it was after my last experiences with Expats Rool Okay – no amount of cruelty, destruction, desolated, devatsation, to me or to the rainforests or to my loved ones or to truth, no amount of stupidity or selfishness, no amount of abuse, none of it got into me – it only hit and sliced and devastated from outside. I stayed nice, I stayed pure inside, in my feelings. I'm letting it – them, all of it – destroy my soul and that's the worst possible thing. It's my own fault, because only I can be resonsible for my thought, feelings and soul. Once a bit has got in, it'll be harder to get rid of and it'll have left its mark not only on my face, but everywhere.

I'm no good at being among corruption and callousness - I haven't the right sort of strength – and I never manage to lift it, only to get knocked over by it or sucked into it.
I don't mind that nobody helps me or cares about me; it's that they don't care about anything. They think that "In the beginning was Capitalism," as well as, "gave man dominion over all life on and off and in earth and even all spirit." They think they're being altruistic if they donate a kilo of rice to "give poor people a happy Christmas." They think "environment" is something invented by lunatics, not where we live. In fact they don't think and apparently wouldn't care anyway. I was already broken-hearted about it all and was aware that my happiness was only partial and temporary, so this isn't a surprising end and I think it's highly appropriate that I should die on a tip at the tip of Europe - I wouldn't have stopped here if I hadn't bumped into the coast and I wouldn't have been in a van of I'd been young enough to do it on foot or with a horse. We shouldn't be here, behaving like this, and now I have no choice but to pollute like hell. I reckon I've created more pollution in the last three years than in all my life before and I've done nothing to counteract it - I can't.
Being chemically toxed is like being a garden sprayed with glyphosate and, although I was much more aware and unpolluting than the vast majority of people, I've done quite enough harm to deserve this. Even if I hadn't, I'd be happy to be sharing the plight of the victims, the meek, the honest, the natural - I only wish it weren't so.

It's not absolute hell all the time..

..and when it's not hell, Kiti can always make me smile or laugh.

 
..but those times are very rare and brief. I'm adding these only to cheer myself up! In truth, when I say, "a good day," I mean a day with 1-3 good hours, usually after 5p.m. Also, I want to show other people and remind myself that I haven't always been hideous and miserable, sour and gloomy. I used to be a nice person; I went on being a nice person until just a few weeks ago. It's not what's done to me; it's that no-one cares about anything. It's hard to be happy or not kill myself, in a world full of mad, selfish, wicked destruction. I only keep on and on for the sake of Kiti and because I'm still trying to get my stupid legal and terminal affairs sorted and tidy, because I thought that was my duty. Now, I doubt that; in this mess we're so enthusiastically making, I've done more harm to myself and to nature and given more profit to those who didn't deserve it by each day of my continued existence, than has been justified by saving one cat. I don't think I'll ever smile again - and I shouldn't.

None of us should be smiling.

Not Waving but Drowning

By Stevie Smith

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

Stevie Smith, “Not Waving but Drowning” from Collected Poems of Stevie Smith. Copyright © 1972 by Stevie Smith. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation. Source: New Selected Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1988)