Mark’s Story – Levaquin Poisoning

Mark G FQWall


I was floxed with Levaquin in the fall of 2007, probably before and since as well, but I’m not certain. Unfortunately, I also had another major medical mishap at the same time, as the Sierra Heparin and saline syringes I was given to rinse the PICC line in my arm were contaminated, so it has been hard to tell which horrible health problems came from which disaster. In fact, I just heard about the problems with Levaquin a few weeks ago and was pretty sure it was one of the many drugs I took during this long miserable ordeal. I dug through piles of old medical records and there it was; I took Levaquin orally just before my Peronial tendon ruptured.


First, here’s a short version of the long story about how I got to where I was taking Levaquin and what happened afterwards. In the summer of 2006 I tore a lumbar muscle and slipped a disc. I was out for 8 months. It should have been longer but our system likes to get people working again ASAP. First day back I slipped in snow. As I braced my back my left ankle folded, shearing the tips of both leg bones off at an angle. They put screws and a plate in but one snapped so they had to drill it out from both sides. During that surgery I got a bacterial infection. They pulled the hardware out, cut away the diseased tissue, irrigated everything, put new metal in, and pulled it around as best they could to sew it shut. They also jammed a tube into my arm down into my heart to inject an antibiotic called Ancef, and gave me Levaquin pills to swallow. I actually started feeling bad before I left the hospital and the nasty letter I wrote them is part of my file. Soon, I went from horrible to worse. I was dizzy, nauseous, confused, my heart was racing, my whole body hurt, I had headaches, and so on. One day I suddenly began wetting myself so badly we had to throw out the couch. I called Pinnacol Assurance about these problems for days trying to get approval for treatment before they finally relented and let me see a doctor, who prescribed Dettrol. It slowed the flood to a trickle for a few days but then my left arm swelled up and turned purple. I had blood clots all along the PICC line in my arm and chest. They pulled the PICC line out and kept me in the ICU for a few days while they loaded me up with blood thinners. I still have those unused syringes in a box and the rest of that Levaquin may well be there too.


The next few months were pure hell. I was taking an unbelievable mix of drugs every day to battle the symptoms, ease the pain, and help me sleep. I was taking Warfarin for the blood clots, of course, but the dose would never stabilize so we had to increase it and decrease it over and over again. I had a whole bunch of different pain pills, including Oxycontin, Percocet, and Vicodin, which I mixed according to how much pain I was experiencing. The strange thing was that even though I’d had three surgeries on my ankle and they’d just chopped some of it off, I was feeling pain all over my body, and my headaches were terrible. I was also taking Naproxen as an anti-inflammatory. I was taking Flo-Max to shrink my bloated prostate so I didn’t have to pee every twenty minutes, which is a real drag when you’re on crutches and hooked to an oxygen generator. I was also taking Flexaril and Valium to relax my muscles and to reduce spasms. Despite all the narcotics and relaxers I still couldn’t sleep so I took Ambien and Tylenol PM before bed each night. My blood pressure had shot through the ceiling for some reason so they had me on Hydrochlorothiazide in the morning and Atenolol at night, or vice a versa. All these pills hurt my stomach, so they gave me Prevacid for the indigestion and some other crap called Ondanesterone for nausea. I took Imodium every day for diarrhea. My lungs were clogging up so they gave me a couple of inhalers, Flovent for the mornings and Albuterol for when I was having trouble breathing. There were some others as well but you get the point; if a medicine is giving you trouble they prescribe another medicine to help you deal with it.


I kept telling everyone involved in my care that something was terribly wrong but just like before the doctors seemed to discount what I told them, and the insurance company did not want to admit that they might have to pay for anything else. The doctors just kept adding medications for the various symptoms and after haggling for a while the insurance company paid for them. Of course I had no idea yet what it was that was causing all this agony.


During this period huge varicose veins bubbled up on my right leg that looked like bunches of purple grapes under my skin, and soon an itchy bleeding rash appeared above them. I had a painful red infected looking rash all around the slowly healing surgical incision on the outer side of my left ankle. Both of my heels had huge, dry, hard, cracked, jagged, bleeding calluses. I also had an itchy, scaly, fungal rash on my scrotum. I had numbness or tingling in my lips and sometimes throughout my face, and I had both numbness and pain in my hands and feet. All of my joints seemed to be painful but especially in my hands. My lower back hurt more than it had in quite some time and the spasms which originated in the left lumbar region became increasingly severe. I began to get a strange tingling sensation in my back, shoulders, and neck, which often originates from the area between my left shoulder blade and spine, although sometimes it begins in one these other areas, and often it seems to flow around. I was very weak physically and exhausted all the time and yet I had trouble both falling asleep and staying asleep. My mind would not shut down when I tried to sleep; it was as if a thousand voices were talking all at once. After a few hours of sleep, if some little sound awoke me I would be unable to go back to sleep. Of course, I also had to wake myself from much needed sleep on a regular basis to take more and more medications, and often I would wake up from extremely vivid dreams or hellish nightmares. I often had ringing in my ears and my vision seemed to be getting worse. I found I was taking a fairly new pair of glasses off to read. I had horrible headaches and felt dizzy and lightheaded most of the time. I frequently felt warm or flushed. My heart often felt like it was racing and my blood pressure was usually quite high even though I was taking two different medicines for it. I was so thirsty and dehydrated that my lips and the tip of my tongue would crack even though I drank tremendous amounts of water. Before all this happened I drank lots of coffee and lots of beer but during this phase I developed sensitivity to both and stopped consuming them. I felt a frequent need to urinate and yet little or nothing would come out. I was frequently quite nauseous but fortunately I vomited only a few times, however on the occasions that I did it was always a long horrible heaving session with some sort of bitter brown slop from deep inside of me gurgling out. Since I had constant diarrhea maybe it was coming out the wrong end. I kept Imodium with me all the time to try to keep it together but sometimes I still lost control. I also had indigestion most of the time, and occasional stomach cramps. My lungs were filling with a slimy mucous which made it hard to breathe. I was also getting strange bruises all over my body even though no impact had caused them. I was getting fatter from being sedentary and eating crappy food. There were many more physical issues but I can’t remember them all right now.


Not only was I enduring all sorts of physical problems, I was also struggling with a wide variety of mental issues as well. My short term memory was shot. My ability to concentrate or pay attention to anything was severely diminished. I had to read sentences over and over again before I could make sense of them, but strangely, I was still able to organize my own thoughts and write them down fairly well, just a lot more slowly than before this nightmare began. I also found that I was unable to follow simple instructions. It was really strange, I could almost understand them. It was there, but it wasn’t. I was fairly sure that all this confusion was more than just a pain pill fog for quite some time but one evening during an exam in my computer class I became certain (yes, I actually attempted to attend college in the midst of all this mayhem). I had studied and studied and was sure I was ready but when it came time to answer the questions I just could not understand them, but what happened next was the clincher. I burst into tears, hopped onto my crutches, and hobbled out of the room sobbing and blubbering, feeling an overwhelming sense of despair and embarrassed beyond belief. I am not a particularly emotional person. Before this I never had crazy mood swings. Sure, I was pretty damned depressed in an ongoing every day realization that my life totally sucked kind of way, but starting that night I began having sudden feelings of hopelessness that completely overwhelmed me. Suicide went from being a ‘cold calculated long term option to be considered more seriously if things did not improve or got worse in the future’ type of thinking to a clear and present danger. I began to see a psychologist.


As November came along my ankle had become much less swollen and far more flexible but I was still very stiff and slow, my body hurt in varying degrees from head to toe, my mind was in a fog-bank, my mood was swinging wildly from bad to worse, and my weight was up. In an appointment for my ankle they suggested that I was probably about ready to return to work. I said that because of my general condition that was ridiculous, and that besides, there was still a very painful bump behind and below the outside ball of my left ankle. It took some arguing, but I got them to do an MRI; it revealed that a tendon had split. When I returned a few days later to find out what the next procedure would be my doctor no longer worked for them and they were no longer in charge of my case. They apologized profusely as they handed me all my paperwork and DVD’s and so on. I was transferred to a new doctor who pretty much specialized in fixing other doctors’ ankle mistakes.


This new doctor told me that I would need at least two more surgeries on my ankle. The first would be to repair the ruptured tendon, which they believed had somehow strangely managed to saw itself in half on the hardware. They would also remove that hardware during this surgery. The second surgery would be to repair cartilage.


I had the tendon surgery in January of 2008. There were numerous issues with my medications and with how the insurance company arranged things that are not really relevant to the floxing short version of my story but that I’ll explain fully in the book version of this long miserable ordeal. The doctor was certain that I would not need any antibiotics even though I’ve had troubles with infections time and time again. He went in through the same incision that had been used on three previous occasions including the most recent one where tissue had been removed from either side. The hardware was removed and the tendon was repaired, but as time went by the wound refused to heal. I tried to keep the gaping hole in my leg sterile and bandaged but eventually it became infected. I was eventually prescribed some sort of antibiotic. I do not recall noticing any immediate adverse reaction or I might have pegged fluoroquinolones as a culprit much earlier than I did.


Another thing going wrong was that my left knee hurt. The doctor seemed alarmed at how loose it was until he compared it to the right one. I guess since it was almost as sloppy they figured that’s just how my knees are and that there was no issue so we didn’t do anything. The pain went from sharp to dull and has stayed that way.


It was around this time that I found out about Heparin. AM2 PAT, the company that packaged it into syringes was fraudulent from the start. Their “clean room” was filthy, with a fan duck taped in the window and high school dropouts doing the work of skilled professionals. Syringes with numerous contaminants sickened many people and killed a few. Blood clots were one of the most common problems, and I had most of the other symptoms they listed too, as well as a whole bunch of others they did not. I was pretty sure I was a victim so I contacted a lawyer and then forgot all about it.


One day in March I got a phone call. Good news they said. A donor was available to give me cartilage. When they explained that this meant a young girl had died in a car accident I told them I had trouble feeling good about this news. A few days later I was in the hospital for the surgery but unfortunately something went wrong as we transitioned me from Warfarin to a different anticoagulant called Lovenox, which doesn’t make blood thinner so they can do surgery; I had a broken a blood vessel in my foot. The surgery was cancelled but I had to spend a few days in the hospital for all sorts of unpleasant tests. When they finally released me they said I no longer had clots and that I could stop taking the blood thinners. I was pretty happy about that because until then I was pretty sure that they were causing the cognitive issues and other generally miserable symptoms I was experiencing. I was wrong. My problems didn’t go away; in fact, I was noticing new symptoms as well. My left eye had a tick or twitch of some sort, and I had similar little muscle tremors in my legs and hands. I’d become surprisingly sensitive to sunlight, or even bright lights indoors. My hair was becoming brittle, especially on the left side of my head. Also, whenever I was in the hospital my oxygen levels had been really low. Finally, the hole in my leg where they had cut in so many times was still wide open. Also, my mind was still not working properly and I still had trouble sleeping.


In June another donor was able to provide cartilage. I still felt terrible but it’s good that many people benefitted from the loss of this child, and that her family can take some small comfort in that. The surgery went well. They cut in through a different section of my ankle because the old spot still had not really healed after more than five months. I was back on my feet in just a few weeks. In early august on the day that they switched me from a walking boot to an uncomfortable little ankle brace I was cleared to return to work, although they didn’t tell me to my face. I found out in a letter from the insurance company. I could barely stand for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time. I was nowhere near ready to return to a commercial kitchen. Not only did my ankle hurt, I was still experiencing the problems I listed earlier and new ones as well. My ears had cracked sores in them that would bleed into my ears. I was sleeping a bit better but my eyes were gumming shut and glazing over, and I was getting double vision. They released me to my family doctor who wrote that I would be unable to work for several months, as did my internal medicines specialist, but the insurance company stopped paying for anything else. I went and saw a doctor about the varicose veins and he prescribed a compression stocking which turned out to be a horribly uncomfortable one legged pantyhose thing that pinched and squeezed with a tight elastic belt that bites into my fat belly.


I lived for awhile on the small settlement they gave me, and for awhile longer on student loans, but I never got healthy. During the winter it became increasingly difficult to breathe. I was coughing up huge amounts of crud and was even passing out once in a while. On March 19th of 2009 I woke up in the emergency room with pulmonary edema. The doctor said I had to move to a lower altitude as soon as I could. I abruptly hauled many pickup loads of stuff and moved down out of the Colorado Rockies into the basement of a friend of a friend a hundred and forty miles away. My stuff was already in complete disarray because I’d been sick and on crutches for so long but now it was really mixed up. I spent nine months alone in that basement sorting through my stuff, still confused, still having terrible back spasms, but fortunately walking just a bit more each week, with ups and downs of course. One thing that helped immensely was medical marijuana. I hadn’t smoked in years but I found that it helped back spasms better than anything else and after all the problems modern medicine had caused in my life I was more than ready to try something natural. With a little help from my friends I managed to get a small garden going, but it wouldn’t yield medicine for half a year. At that point I saved what little I had for spasms, but that was OK because like so many other things, my tolerance level for pot seemed very low.


In the fall of 2009 I was in my final semester of community college but I was still having a tremendous amount of trouble. I spent all day every day trying to pass my classes but my mind would not absorb information and I was still suffering all the symptoms I listed before. I paid my rent through Christmas with a student loan but my landlord didn’t pay his mortgage so we went into the holidays broke and on the brink of foreclosure. My back spasms were getting really bad. By this time I had been in constant pain for three and a half years. Since I was unable to complete my classes I would be ineligible for a student loan. I was extremely depressed.


I’d been waiting to see what would happen in the class action suit for the Heparin when I received a letter from my attorneys. The CEO of the company had fled the country with the assets; there was no longer a lawsuit. I was screwed. I was flat broke and deep in debt to my friends, my family, credit cards, car, student loans, hospital bills, rent, phone, power, cable, and so on. My head and body still hurt all day every day. I still couldn’t make sense of things I was reading. Sitting alone in my filthy basement room on Christmas day, I decided to kill myself. I figured that it wouldn’t be right to do it on the holidays or near any friends or families birthdays, so March 1st seemed like a great day. I felt relieved, like a ton of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders. I spent what was left on my credit cards and stopped paying on them. I began giving away all my possessions; stereo, TV, CD’s, movies, books, tools, furniture, clothes, all sorts of stuff, before people intervened. My family called every day. Friends came down from the mountains to visit. One friend offered to let me stay at his place.


In mid January I went and got a new pair of glasses. The optometrist was quite surprised at how much my vision had deteriorated. Within days my headaches were less severe. Things were starting to get better. In late January I harvested my marijuana. Suddenly I had enough to smoke when I wanted to and some to sell to a dispensary for a bit of cash. I also had the pride of knowing I had actually done a pretty good job despite the pain and confusion I’d been suffering. As I began smoking more often my mood and outlook on life improved dramatically. I found that I could smoke and then do more physically, from simple house tasks like dishes to walking around the neighborhood. It was at this time that I began putting some of my stuff in a storage shed near the friend’s house I was going to stay in for awhile. One day in mid February something in my back gave out and I fell to the floor. I crawled into bed and stayed there for more than three days in agony, barely able to crawl to the toilet and sit there. My roommate brought me food and water. On the third day something slipped back into place and suddenly my back worked again, although it was still sore for many days. It is now 14 months later and I have not had a single back spasm since then. My lower back still hurts a bit all the time and a whole lot sometimes, and my upper back, shoulders, and neck area hurt pretty often too, plus I have the crawling tingly thing going on, but no spasms. YES!


By the end of February I had most of my stuff piled in the storage shed. I stayed at my friend’s in an unfinished room on an air-mat with a few boxes of stuff and my computer. He had no kitchen. I was so broke I was living on raw potatoes and junk food from the food bank. The credit card people called every day until the phone stopped working. One day I suddenly got severe vertigo. I had been a bit dizzy and disoriented on a fairly regular basis throughout this ordeal but this was something new. The room was spinning and I couldn’t balance. I also experienced a sense of panic. It lasted a couple of days and then mostly went away. I figured it was a new problem from what I believed to be damage from the contaminated syringes. As I completed some of my classes I began to research more about Heparin. I began to think that perhaps something more had happened to me but I didn’t know what.


I planned to graduate in May and needed a plan to get out of my friend’s house. The plan I went with was to get out of America and back to Canada where I was born, to stay with my sister, probably for a year. As spring set in I was able to go to my storage shed and organize the wreckage of my life. I whittled down what I had to a tiny locker full and what I would take with me in my Ford Explorer. I began to walk several miles at a time by this point. It hurt quite a bit but mostly in a good way. I topped out at over 5 miles in one walk on several occasions. I went back up to Leadville several times to visit and say goodbye. I had invested more than twenty years building my reputation and network of friends there but I still got sick just driving back up. I cannot even visit the place where most of my friends are, the place I thought I would live for the rest of my life without getting sick. FUCK! I drank beer a few times during this period but the hangovers were beyond belief. I noticed that even as it was becoming warm out that I was still cold as I lay in bed. Also, I could hear my heartbeat pulsing in my head. I still had trouble sleeping but at least the thousand voices were not torturing me every night. I graduated at the end of May, wrapped up my weird act in America, and headed off to Canada with a car full of crap, my dog, and a rider to Ohio.


I rolled into Canada on June 21st, 2010. My back and legs had done surprisingly well on the 2,000 mile trip. I settled into my sisters and within a few days I had my Social Identification number and a bank account. My sister pays me anytime I do more than my share around the house so I quickly had a bit of money in my pocket. I felt pretty healthy; I think the drop in altitude helped. I did some research and found a restaurant that I really wanted to work at so I sent them my resume. They hired me and so in mid August I was working again and by September I was working more than 40 hours a week for the first time in years. It felt so good to be cooking again but my god my body hurt. My feet were sore, my back was killing me, my hands and wrists were pulsing in pain and going numb. My head ached and I was getting that tingling in my middle back more severely than ever before. Every part of me ached from head to toe and it wasn’t that good type of pain I was getting a few months earlier from carefully and gently pushing myself to exercise properly. I was taking a combination of Aleve, Advil, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and Aspirin to combat the pain, and Flexaril many nights before bed to help me sleep.

I got my Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP) card after 90 days and went to my first appointment, a meet and greet with a doctor located in a little clinic in the same parking lot as my new job. It is hard to find a doctor in Ontario so I was glad to get one in such a convenient location. In my second appointment he gave me a brief physical and ordered blood and urine tests which I had done in a little facility across the street. In Ontario there are all sorts of these little clinics and medical facilities in strip malls everywhere. In the next appointment we went over the blood tests; they came back great, and I did not have diabetes either. This was good news because my numbers sucked when I was in the middle of all the problems a few years earlier. My next visit was for the swollen varicose veins on my right leg. This time the news was not so good.


My doctor said I would need surgery so he scheduled an appointment with a vein specialist. She scheduled me for an ultrasound which showed three big red lines from my hip to my ankle. She said that I needed to have all three of them stripped out and that she was referring me to a surgeon at Ottawa Hospital. That was two months ago. Despite calling the vein clinic to see what’s happening I have yet to hear anything from the surgeon, and in this system there seems to be no way of calling anyone to find out what’s happening. This is extremely frustrating because the vein specialist said I could expect six to twelve months downtime after this surgery, and that I should probably expect similar damage in my left leg so I’ll probably have another surgery after this one with even more down time. I expected to have to wait longer for surgery in Canada than in America but I didn’t expect to wait months just to find out what’s really happening. I’m considering paying for a laser or radio frequency surgery because the down time is much less.


I never really got up to speed at my job. I once was a truly awesome cook but at Tucson’s I topped out at pretty good. The food I made was excellent and I was a great addition to the staff but I could never quite get the menu down and always had a bit of trouble when I was on the line alone. About the time I was told I’d need another major surgery my concentration started slipping. We joked around about it at first but eventually it became apparent that there was a problem. The chef adjusted my schedule both by cutting the number of hours I was working and by scheduling me on the shifts where I spent the least amount of time alone in the kitchen. He even brought in the other cooks a bit earlier to help me out, but all to no avail; I was simply not up to handling a rush, either by myself, or even with a co-worker. I had to quit. This was very frustrating and depressing.


My next appointment with my doctor was for the confusion and headaches I was getting. I forgot to mention that in mid January I took an ambulance to the hospital because I had another vertigo attack much like the one I’d had the previous spring. I also had tremendous pressure behind my eyes and forehead. This was probably the point when my concentration began fading. The doctor recommended a CT scan of my head. It took well over a month to hear from someone but I now have an appointment for that on April 18th.


Each visit to the doctor is supposed to be about one thing at a time but with all the issues I have, and with so many of them being related, this simply wasn’t working for me so I tried to think of ways to say I was there for one thing and address as many as possible. My next visit was for pain; pain in the ankle I had five surgeries on, pain in my throbbing varicose veins, pain in my lower back, pain in my upper back, neck, shoulders and head, pain in my feet, and pain in my hands and wrists. He said he would get me a CT scan of my back and refer me to a pain specialist. It’s been about a month and I’m still waiting to hear about either of these visits. He also prescribed Elavil which is an antidepressant. I was skeptical but the paperwork said that it was also commonly prescribed for chronic pain so I gave it a try. One pill made me dizzy and disoriented and dazed beyond belief. It was absolutely terrible for two days, and it took a week before I was sure it was out of my system.


On March 17th I applied for ODSP, which is Ontario’s disability support program. It takes many months to get the paperwork put together, submitted, and approved so it will be quite some time before I even know whether I’m eligible or not, but considering all the problems that I can document I’ve had I believe I’ll get it. I may also be eligible for U.S. Social Security through a cooperation agreement between America and Canada. I can apply through the Canadian Pension Plan but one step at a time. I’m working on disability for now and considering my brain just isn’t working quite right this is a very daunting task.


My next visit to the doctor was about two weeks ago, to get paperwork signed for employment insurance and to go over the disability paperwork. He signed the EI form which will provide 55% of my average income for 15 weeks, and explained the disability paperwork to me and my sister who came along to help me remember and ask questions I forgot to. When we talked about my depression and thoughts of suicide he asked me if I could promise him that I would not do anything drastic in the next few weeks and I told him that although I think it would be highly unlikely that I could not promise him that. In addition to losing my job and feeling like crap from head to toe, I had just come across an article about Levaquin; all the problems that people who reacted adversely to this drug were reporting was the story of my last few years. I took Levaquin and then suddenly my tendon split, which is a primary symptom, and I had mysterious cartilage damage too, which is another one. I had headaches and confusion, tingling nerves, sensitivity to sunlight, and on and on. The symptoms or problems were obviously exactly what I was/am going thorough. It was both refreshing and discouraging to find this information. The thing that really bummed me out though was that apparently most people who got it as bad as I did do not really recover. It looks like this is how my life’s going to be. Ugh!


I told the doctor that I still think about suicide every day, buts it’s the ‘calculated long term option to be considered more seriously if things do not improve or get worse in the future’ type of thought, not the ‘do it now’ that I experienced last year. He recommended I see a psychiatrist and picked one at random from a list on his computer. He also gave me the doctor’s number. I called the doctor the next day and his secretary said that he was a forensic psychiatrist and that fortunately I didn’t qualify to see him. I tried to find another psychiatrist through my sister’s psychiatrist. When I explained that what I really needed was someone to help me organize my thoughts and my medical record and to understand the damage that had happened to my brain she recommended the Robin Easey Center for brain injuries so I called them and arranged an appointment. I went and met with them. Hopefully they can help me but like everything else in the Canadian system I’ll have to wait to see a psychologist who can recommend that I be put on their waiting list.


So here’s where I’m at right now. I’ve been unemployed for a couple of weeks except for the bit of work I do around the house to help my sister. My body hurts from head to toe. I can rarely walk the two kilometers that I was walking six months ago without issues. Now my back hurts, my hips hurt, which is new, my ankle hurts, as always, the arch of my good foot has begun hurting, tendons I’m guessing. My muscles cramp up, my hands and wrists hurt when I use them for more than just a few minutes at a time, my joints all pop on a regular basis either with pain or without, my hands and feet go numb, I get a creepy crawly tingling sensation in my back very frequently, my shoulders, neck, and head hurt almost all the time. Vertigo comes and goes but fortunately not in an overwhelming fashion as it has on occasion before, my vision seems to be deteriorating again, I can’t understand what I’m reading or simple diagrams like ones to indicate which switch controls which burner on a stove, I can’t stay asleep at night, I’m exhausted most of the time, I have ringing in my ears and pulsing in my head, and I seem to be prone to frequent sore throats and infections on my fingers. I am also quite depressed.


Why the hell does any supposedly compassionate and responsible medical system let people slip through the cracks like this. They must know that Levaquin is doing harm to people like this but their greed gets in the way. I feel like Charlie in Flowers for Algernon as I slip back into darkness.


My floxing story is also my contaminated syringes story, and my many failed surgeries story, and my repeat acquisition of hospital infections story, and my broken hardware story. It’s also my medical marijuana story, and it’s now becoming my transfer from the American medical system to the Canadian system story too. I hope that someday it’s a success story.

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