I've been struggling since July with a nearly debilitating version of dyshidrotic eczema. After a gazillion visits with "the premier specialist in the field" (in several fields, actually. The doctors can't decide whose problem it should be.) and all sorts of wacky tests that last for days and days, still nobody knows why. You can see why having hands like this would be little tricky for anyone, but especially a mom who must wipe away tears and change diapers and do dishes oh, and be a piano teacher. (warning: that link leads to a gross picture of somebody else's hands, but is a fairly accurate representation of my hands at their worst.)
Last month, Lilyanna developed regular garden variety eczema all over her face. It is so sad and she's so uncomfortable. (And yes, we're doing all the stuff you're supposed to do to help.) And I know it doesn't work like this, but there is a part of me that keeps trying to strike bargains with the world. "Look, I'll take this nastiness on my hands for another year, if she can just get better, please. PLEASE!!"
Apparently given my struggle with eczema my whole life, and the fact that Todd has asthma and allergies, it's something of a miracle that all of our children didn't struggle with it as babies. For that, I am very grateful. I am also grateful that she will happily play for long periods of time. But then it's like it all comes back to her how itchy and uncomfortable she is and she has a little meltdown.
Did I mention it's so sad to see her so uncomfortable?
|You can see it looking not so bad in this picture, but it's definitely spread more since this picture was taken a couple weeks ago.|