How to Get a Parasite
The posts on this blog are based on my personal experience and are not medical advice.
For seven years now I have been fighting and testing positive for parasites. In 2011 I went to Mexico City for an internship. Two days after I returned I began bi-hourly diarrhea. Several tests for pathogens including parasites were all negative but after two weeks spent in the bathroom and bed I was given the commonly prescribed anti-parasitic, Flagyl, from an infectious-disease doctor. While I immediately got relief from the diarrhea, my digestion, energy levels, and hormones have never been the same. At best the Flagyl pill brought me back to 70% health, but my health was far from strong.
Looking back, I think the Flagyl killed some of the parasites in my body but not all, and additionally introduced some more problems by altering my gut flora (also known as beneficial gut bacteria). We know that antibiotics and anti-parasitics kill strains of beneficial gut bacteria in your body, and while some bacteria repopulates after a course of antibiotics, not all of it does. These bacteria are connected to a good immune system, hormones, and overall health.
Before I went to Mexico I ate and drank everything. After taking flagyl I immediately became intolerant of many foods. I began slowly weeding out all of the usual irritants: alcohol, caffeine, dairy, gluten, sugar. Then to weeding out deeper things: I stopped going out, I stopped going to sleep after 10pm, I stopped working a demanding job, I stopped traveling to poor countries, I almost completely stopped being sexually active. Activities like two-day camping trips or pick-up basketball seemed daunting. Every time I told myself that the problem was psychological and drank alcohol or ate the wrong food I would spend the following morning having terrible gut problems.
Despite living like a healthy 50 year old, I was chronically tired. I needed a nap every day and I woke up tired. Much of the energy in my life was gone. My confidence was gone. My joy was gone.
I knew I needed help. I was depressed. I felt languid. After barely, barely graduating from Brown (the school allows you to take as many of your classes pass/fail as you "need," lol. I had to carefully explain to the TA of my film class that if I didn't get a 85% on my final paper I wouldn't pass the class and wouldn't graduate. I got an 85%. I moved in with my parents and did very little. I found myself eating Ben & Jerry's at 10am.
I had a feeling that my problem was multi-layered. I noticed that my symptoms were exaggerated or eased depending on my mental state. But I was still pretty ignorant. The only thing that I had total confidence in was my disillusionment with mainstream American doctors.
My journey was just beginning. I was still bottoming out.