It’s been a while since I posted an update.
I’ve continued to give everything I have to raise awareness, expose the truth, and push for accountability from Merck and the authorities. The injustice, the denial, my survival instinct—and my son—have kept me going far so long.
Personally, my health has continued to deteriorate at an unbearable and alarming rate.
I am emaciated. There’s barely anything left of me. I look like I have AIDS and have aged beyond recognition in just a few years. My bones and tissues have wasted away—my face included. Everything I eat causes immense problems. My digestion fails. My colon is inflamed and has been prolapsed for over two years. Going to the toilet is painful and pitiful. Food sits undigested, rotting inside me, releasing toxins into my bloodstream. Leaky gut causes continuous immune reactions and toxic overload.
I’ve been surviving on organic apples that i peel freeze and thaw —easier to digest once into a softer state. I remove the peel because the quercetin, a known 5-alpha-reductase inhibitor, was making things worse. I now suffer from severe noise and chemical sensitivity. Being around people became nearly impossible. With the drop in neurosteroids and multiple hormonal issues, I lost my sense of identity, belonging, and association.
Sleep has deteriorated. What little I get is broken by nightmares, screaming tinnitus, and nerve pain. My face continues to collapse—new holes form under the skin daily. My brow line cheek bones jaw and gums receded and flattened while the structure got smaller and skin became thinner and looser with loss of collagen and lipids. I have facial pain daily as the shrinkage continues. My urine is dark and frothy, a result of protein loss and insulin/glucose issues. My immune system relentlessly attacks 5AR-related tissues.
Any attempt to add new food stalls my colon and leaves me unable to walk, as inflammation rapidly worsens and damages my organs. My lymph nodes are often inflamed. A recent scan revealed the largest haemangioma on my liver has grown since last year. I stopped producing bile long ago—can’t break down fats, oils, or animal proteins. I’ve also been diagnosed with pancreatic insufficiency and low digestive enzyme levels. Enzyme replacements caused further crashes, likely due to gene expression alterations.
Cognitively and emotionally, I’ve only worsened—adrenal burnout increases my cortisol sensitivity, pushing me into a constant state of fight-or-flight. Reduced neurosteroids and the loss of functional androgens deeply impact my cognition, mood, and behavior.
Arrhythmia, especially at night, became more frequent—bringing a weak pulse and immediate, blinding headaches. I expected a fatal event at any moment. Electrolytes helped for a short while, suggesting adrenal related but they soon triggered prolonged suicidal thoughts, severe irritability, and dehydration. I had to stop them, and the arrhythmia returned.
This isn’t even half the story. My symptoms are well documented in my threads. But what was already unbearable has only gotten worse.
Over the past two years, I found myself on the edge of a bridge more than once. A few weeks ago, I even tried on a belt. But fear, my son —and a flicker of hope for divine intervention—pulled me back.
My family and friends never understood. The more I tried to help them understand—sharing literature, telling them other sufferers’ stories—the harder it became. I was accused of forcing my situation onto them, manipulating circumstances. On one occasion, I was told that mentioning suicidal thoughts was a ploy when it was actually a desperate attempt to be seen and believed. I’ve even been judged for behaviours caused by this medication’s after effects.
My wife’s uncle recently made a sarcastic comment to my son about my allergies. My son found it distasteful. This has all cut me deeply. The people I thought loved me made me feel like as though I was exaggerating for attention.
Why the hell would anyone choose to live like this?
No one believes the degree of harm that this drug can cause.
I felt belittled, silenced, invalidated, and completely isolated. No one had my back.
Thousands of us are reporting the same symptoms to varying degrees. The common thread? Finasteride. What the hell is going on in today’s world?
Years ago, I said I wished Post-Finasteride Syndrome (PFS) would “show its face” so it could finally be acknowledged. I got my wish. The disease ravaged me quickly—yet even then, the scepticism only got worse.
Forum posts show that the more severe the case, the more intense the gaslighting. I can attest to that. When I could still fake being okay, people were more accommodating. But as my ability to mask it faded, so did their belief, interest and tolerance.
Many have said: if this were cancer, things would be different. We’d at least be validated, treated with dignity and respect.
My son is a beautiful boy. He loves me. He saw my pain in the later stages—no explanations needed. We didn’t talk about it much because he just understood. It was the opposite with others. I tried to be a good father, to leave him with some useful life lessons—hoping his life is long, enriched, and full.
I’ve had rheumatoid arthritis since childhood. I also survived testicular cancer—later learning Finasteride likely caused it. I never asked for sympathy. I even joked about both That should’ve been a clue to those around me—how serious this really is.
Yes, the rheumatoid drugs had side effects. But Finasteride destroyed everything. People accepted Merck’s narrative—deflecting blame toward to the victim citing psychological issues—despite clear literature proving the physiological basis: a collapse in allopregnanolone and androgen levels. Their refusal to believe me felt like betrayal.
Those who truly cared will understand after I’m gone. Those who don’t—never did.
Prior to PFS all I ever wanted was to bring joy and happiness to others, mostly through humour and my positive outlook.If I made someone laugh or helped them with advice or support, I felt I made a difference. people often came to me for those things—even if my humour wasn’t to everyone’s taste.
In a better world, I would’ve died much older, peacefully in a hospital bed, surrounded by loved ones—sharing memories, saying goodbye, offering words of love and advice.
I prayed to God every day over these last few years. I always believed in him, but like many, only truly reached out when I was drowning, I recently felt God’s presence during prayer but I became afraid anxiety closed the door—but maybe that’s how it had to be. I rest in the belief that he loves me saw both my suffering and courage. Despite everything, I always tried to stay true to myself and my values. I believe he’ll welcome me to Heaven with open arms…I hope my passing brings reflection.
God asks us to forgive—but it’s hard, considering the gravity of this and the way we’re treated like modern-day lepers. Maybe on the way home, I’ll find peace from this pain and unforgiveness.
One day, Merck and the authorities will be exposed. I hope those who defended them wrestle with their conscience for playing a role in this—through denial, trivialization and passive ignorance.
The medical system has been unable to help. In the last year alone my GP sent a detailed referral. At the appointment itself (Gastro) I felt invalidated; despite saying I had a prolapsed colon and was suffering intense inflammation and digestive issues I wasn’t examined. I also stated replacement enzymes caused me problems yet was dispensed another script for them in the post. I’ve heard nothing more. This is just one example of the medical gaslighting. Prescription drugs/therapies that I did try only caused problems and sometimes further worsening. My Dr has tried but admitted to feeing out of her depth, helpless as did the musco skeletal professor. All sufferers have similar experiences yet the MHRAs direction to those experiencing side effects is to seek medical help. The current guidance is deeply flawed and dangerous. They don’t know who is at risk they downplay the side effects then discharge responsibility to the NHS who cannot help in any meaningful way.
I’ve reached a point where I can’t take any more. The brutality of this illness, the lack of help, understanding, support, or even tolerance—it’s been too much. I never wanted sympathy. I just needed a space where I could be supported without being dismissed , challenged, or humiliated for simply reaching out.
This might be my final update. I’ve written it to show that even those closest to us often fail to see the reality of this condition. That’s a serious problem. The lack of recognition has likely pushed many sufferers to give up.
Despite what I sometimes feel, I won’t take my own life. I won’t give Merck that victory. Still, I don’t think I have much time left. How many more deaths will it take before the world wakes up to this scandal.
To those I’ve met through this journey—thank you I’ll never forget you. I hope my support and words helped, even a little.
One thing I’ve learned: those who’ve truly suffered in life are the most humble, loyal, and empathetic. I wish I had stayed closer to people like that.
Don’t see my experience as your destiny. Years of repeated exposure brought me to this point . The landmines were laid everywhere.
One final thing continue to send reports to the regulatory authorities numbers have never been higher. The importance of this cannot be overstated.
Please don’t offer up any suggested protocols etc it’s too late for all of that and is like a minefield as most know.
God bless you all.
Stay strong. Be kind to each other.