The Skin I’m In

I think I was about 5 or 6 the first time I got the funny red bumps all over my body. Various friends and family thought I had measles or mumps or something terrible and contagious. I didn’t.

It was my first bout with psoriasis.

Psoriasis is a genetic skin disorder where the skin cells regenerate many times faster than normal, creating red patches and spots. There are multiple different types of psoriasis, though when I was a child, I was diagnosed with guttate psoriasis. Since then I’ve self-diagnosed myself with several others, based on research done via the internet.

Guttate psoriasis is what I’ve struggle with most of my life. If I got sick with strep throat, my skin would break out within a couple weeks. After that, I would make regular trips to my dermatologist, slather multiple ointments on my skin, take many baths in tar-smelling stuff, and eventually have my skin return to normal. I had 3 different bouts that I can remember, at approximately 6, 12, and 16 years old. The psoriasis flare-up I had at 16 was by far the worse and changed how my body reacted to the ointments forever.

I’d been very sick that winter, with two bouts of strep and a couple of the flu. By the turn of the new year, I had huge patches of psoriasis on my body, not just little spots. My lower legs were almost completely covered in red, itchy, dry, scaly patches. Every visit to the dermatologist gave me more ointments and medicines to try and I took multiple different vitamin supplements, all to no avail. We tried tanning booths and UV treatments, until the doctor roasted me in the UV booth, after which I stopped seeing him.

It wasn’t until the days grew longer and the sun was out more that I actually saw some results. For whatever reason, natural sunlight is the closest thing to a cure that has ever worked on me.

Over the years, I’ve learned to deal with it. I’ve found one vitamin supplement that helps, and being pregnant and nursing actually cleared my skin up completely, but other than that, my elbows are always patchy with psoriasis and I always have several large patches, between a quarter to an egg in diameter, on my legs.

Back in October 2016, my whole family got sick with strep. Every single one of us. We all got on penicillin and I went on, thinking that since I’d had psoriasis almost constantly for the last 16 years, that the strep wouldn’t make any difference.

Boy, was I wrong.

I started noticing one day that my face felt really dry. REALLY dry. Painfully so. I went in the bathroom to put on some moisturizer and actually stopped and looked at myself in the mirror. My face was blotchy, scaly, and red. After a moment of close examination, I realized that it looked like psoriasis. Practically overnight, my body completely broke out. The patches on my legs spread to cover almost my entire lower legs. My arms grew similar patches. Hundreds of small spots appeared on my upper legs and torso, many growing bigger than quarter size in a few days. No part of my body was spared. But the worse, by far, was my face, the only part that I couldn’t cover up and hide. My skin was red, swollen, dry and peeling.

Self esteem tanked. I didn’t want to leave the house. I didn’t want anyone to see me. Nearly every time I did go out, someone commented on my face. I hurt. I felt ugly. And I saw no end in sight.

Then I had family come along to help me out. My sister, who recently started a skin care home based business, got one of her skin treatments to me. My in-laws paid for me to see a dermatologist and get some of my old, familiar ointment.

I have to say, my sister’s stuff works better than anything I’ve ever tried before. She had me take a before picture and then I took another one 30 days later and the results were staggering. She posted them on Facebook and now I’ve become a small celebrity among her business partners and their Facebook friends, with multiple people asking permission to share my before-and-after picture. It’s rather funny, but I still flinch every time I see that before picture.

I’m tempted to use the face stuff on the rest of my body, to see if it would heal the other parts, too, because even the doctor-recommended medicine isn’t clearing me up nearly as fast as I’d like. Or I may have to wait until the sun shines a bit more and I don’t risk frostbite by going outside in a t-shirt (seriously, it was -26 degrees here recently).

That’s my story of the skin I’m in.

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