Vaccine Injury of Juan Manuel Roux

completely normal

“When the Ground Disappeared Beneath Me”
Testimony of Juan Manuel Roux
Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I had an active life, a steady job, strong relationships, and a future full of plans. But at the end of January 2024, my body started sending strange signals. It all began with swelling and a constant tingling in my legs — mostly in the right one — along with some skin rashes and a sharp pain that reached up to my knees.
I had received both doses of the AstraZeneca COVID-19 vaccine before that. I’ll never know for sure if that was the trigger, but from that moment on, my life changed completely.
On January 27th, I went to Hospital Alemán. They did a venous Doppler scan, which ruled out thrombosis. They thought it could be cellulitis and prescribed cefalexin and meprednisone. But I didn’t get better. In fact, things got worse. I was then referred to the Instituto Argentino de Diagnóstico y Tratamiento (IADT), where I was admitted on February 1st and a whole round of testing began.
They did a brain CT scan — no lesions. My bloodwork showed a mild vitamin B12 deficiency, so they started me on supplements. Because of my neurological symptoms — pain, dizziness, double vision, growing weakness — they even suspected a brain tumor at one point.

They ran several tests:
• Bone scan (Feb 5): ruled out Sudeck’s syndrome.
• EMG (Feb 8, Instituto de Neurología de Buenos Aires): showed a sensory axonal polyneuropathy in my lower limbs.
• MRIs with contrast (Feb 9–10) of brain and cervical, thoracic, and lumbar spine: no signs of demyelination or acute lesions. Minor findings included some disc issues, a filum terminale lipoma, and a vertebral hemangioma.
While I was in the hospital, I also caught COVID-19. It was mild, but feeling so vulnerable made everything worse. I felt trapped in my own body, and the uncertainty around my condition was overwhelming.
On February 13th, I was transferred to FLENI, where I stayed until the 17th. That’s where I received the clearest diagnosis so far: painful sensory neuropathy under evaluation, with suspected small fiber neuropathy.
At FLENI, I was treated by Drs. De Vedia and Baudo. They ran new tests: full bloodwork, rheumatologic profile, lumbar puncture (which showed no inflammation), echocardiogram, brain and orbit MRI (normal), and a second EMG — which didn’t show large fiber involvement. They ruled out several possible causes: autoimmune diseases, viral infections, amyloidosis, vasculitis, thrombosis, and rheumatological disorders.
Still, the pain and loss of function continued. I couldn’t walk normally, work, or live as I used to. The independence I had taken for granted was gone. My mental health began to decline too — anxiety, insomnia, constant frustration. My personal and social life was deeply affected. Some friends distanced themselves. Misunderstanding and helplessness took hold.

Treatment was focused on symptoms: pregabalin, oxcarbazepine, amitriptyline, vitamin B complex, vitamin D, pain meds, psychological support, and daily physical therapy. I left the clinic with a long list of instructions… and a completely different life.
Today, I’m still under outpatient neurological care at FLENI. The pain, weakness, and emotional toll are still part of my days — but so is a new way of seeing life. I’ve learned that health can change in an instant. That there aren’t always quick answers. That the medical system can be helpful — and exhausting. That invisible suffering is hard to explain. And that asking for help is a form of strength.
This is my story. An open wound, a process still going — but also a way to heal, and to speak up for those who, like me, live with a condition that can’t be seen… but hurts with every step.
I am deeply grateful to my family, the friends who never let go of my hand, and the people at work and in life who supported me without judgment — with empathy and quiet presence.
I’ve learned that real strength isn’t about pushing through like nothing happened. It’s about having the courage to face what hurts and still keep looking for light in the dark.