]It started exactly two years ago. The pain came in silently, uninvited – a strange discomfort near my lower back and hips that never quite made sense. Not a stabbing pain, not even clearly locatable. Just a dull, persistent weight, like something pressing from the inside out.
Doctors tried. I tried harder. I went from one specialist to another, hoping someone would say, “Aha! I know what this is.” I spent over 70,000 PLN (or 120k till now total) on tests, scans, panels, MRIs, ultrasounds – you name it. A year went by. No answers.
There was a theory at one point: maybe it was a bacterial infection in the kidneys, radiating pain down to the hips. A few swabs should confirm it, right? We did them. Then again. And again. Every test came back negative. Different labs, different nurses, different days. Negative. Even urine cultures gave me nothing. “Sterile,” they said. “Normal.” But I knew something was wrong.
And so began the dance I didn’t know I was entering: empirical treatment. The medical version of “let’s see if this works.” Broad-spectrum antibiotics – first one, then another. Penicillins, fluoroquinolones, cephalosporins, macrolides… I can name them now. Back then, they were just new words, strange promises in blister packs.
Nothing worked. The pain remained, growing in confidence as the months passed.
At some point, I realized I was going to need to be more than just a patient. I started reading – a little at first. Then obsessively. I found myself in medical textbooks, academic journals, even Danuta Dzierżanowska’s “Antybiotykoterapia praktyczna” – a book med students are forced to read, but I consumed like a detective novel. It opened a door. Suddenly, I was learning not just drug names, but mechanisms:
- How some antibiotics block protein synthesis, while others disrupt the bacterial membrane
- That bacteriostatic and bactericidal drugs aren’t the same at all – they differ in strategy and tempo
- That the effectiveness of a drug isn’t just about what it targets – it’s about whether it can even reach the infected tissue at the right concentration, for the right duration
And here’s something they don’t teach you in the waiting room: most clinics don’t do enough bacterial sensitivity tests. Cultures. Antibiograms. Those tests that actually tell you what bacteria you have – and what kills it. They’re time-consuming, not always reimbursed, and often skipped. So instead, doctors guess.
They guessed with me. For over a year.
By then, I had read nearly 70 academic papers. I had stumbled into entire disciplines I didn’t know existed – e.g. phlebology just to name one, the study of veins and circulation. I wasn’t just trying to fix my pain anymore. I was trying to understand how the system had failed so quietly, so routinely.
And that’s when the story turned again – from my pain to our problem.
Because when antibiotics are used like this – repeatedly, empirically, without confirmed infections – they don’t just fail to help. They teach bacteria to fight back.
That’s antibiotic resistance.
Every dose of an antibiotic that doesn’t kill what it’s supposed to is an opportunity for evolution. Bacteria adapt fast. They share knowledge faster – passing resistance genes like cheat codes. Already, antibiotic-resistant infections kill about 700,000 people each year. By 2050, that number could reach 10 million, overtaking cancer as the leading cause of death.
Let that sink in. Ten million deaths a year – not because we lack drugs, but because we’ve used them blindly for too long.
This is why I became fascinated with a Polish startup called Bacteromic. They’re trying to fix the core problem I experienced: guessing. Their technology – built under Scope Fluidics – rapidly tests how bacteria respond to a wide panel of antibiotics. Instead of playing pharmacological roulette, doctors can use data.
Their system already has CE IVD certification. It’s clinically validated. The potential – for hospitals, clinics, even national health systems – is enormous. If we can identify the right antibiotic before starting treatment, we not only treat infections better – we preserve the drugs we still have.
Bacteromic might not be a household name yet. But it represents something rare in medicine today: precision at the point of decision.
I was lucky enough to finally find a 10x doctor. Someone who looked at the problem differently, connected the dots, and made the right diagnosis. It turned the entire process around. (That’s a story for another article.)
But what stuck with me is this: I’m not the only one. My case might be rare in detail, but it’s painfully common in structure. This isn’t just about me. It’s about the system we all rely on when our bodies stop working – and the cost of letting that system run on autopilot. When diagnostics are of pool quality, protocols are vague, and antibiotics are handed out like hope, patients get lost. Sometimes permanently.
We deserve better. And now I know how much work there is to be done.
We can’t afford another decade of “let’s try this and see.” We need diagnostics. We need evidence. We need to stop shooting in the dark.
And above all – we need to stop guessing.
