My symptoms were a blend of hormonal devastation and mental imbalances. Between these two things, I was thoroughly scared to death. They started off very, very slow and developed over the course of six or seven months. Obviously, not knowing it was the Propecia, I kept taking it……
For four years.
It was also around this time that my incessant internet search for what the hell was wrong with me finally paid off. After stumbling onto a few websites, I was able to put two and two together. I found out it was Propecia which was causing me to slip further and further into hysteria.
By the end of this time, I was an absolute mess.
I was a shell of my former self. A mere shadow. A very meek one at that. I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I didn’t know who I was. The sad-drawn out face looking back at me in the mirror was not me anymore. It was horrifying.
My worst symptoms were:
Complete sexual dysfunction. Inability to get or maintain an erection. This along with a complete inability to become aroused.
No libido. At all. Ever.
Penile tissue changes. Shrinkage, narrowing and shriveled up penis.
Total numbness of the genitals. Absolutely no brain/penis connection.
Genitals were cold to the touch.
Feminization of my facial features and body. My face became plump and round and my body fat deposits changed.
It felt as though I had been castrated.
All of the symptoms mentioned here were due to skyrocketing estrogen and a huge drop in testosterone. Also, all of my androgenic features were being starved of DHT. The Propecia was doing its job, and doing it well. Too well.
But that’s only part of it….
The worst symptoms, by far, were the neurological ones. I could no longer look someone in the eye when I spoke to them. My anxiety was crippling. I saw the world through a dense fog, which never seemed to let up. Trying to do every day tasks was a struggle. It seemed like most of the time I was “thinking through a blanket.” The thickness in my head was like I had been brain damaged.
Along with this came terrible depression. I had no lust for life anymore. I was completely shut down. I was broken.
To make matters even worse, when I wanted to just escape, to not be conscious in my personal hell, I couldn’t because of the relentless insomnia that wouldn’t let up. I would be up for days before collapsing into a semi-state of very, very light, unrefreshing sleep. All the while the ringing in my head made any peace I tried to so desperately get, unattainable.
I imagine if there was a hell, this was it. I didn’t need to die to go there. I was there, alone, every day. It was bleak, desolate and isolating.
After much research, it wasn’t difficult to understand why this was happening…….
The wound is the place where the light enters you -Rumi