I suffer from eczema.
Worse still, it shows up on my hands.
Even worse still, it appears to be stress-induced. Every time life hands me those bitter little lemons, I try to make lemonade and my damn hands get all busted up.
Last week, after using evil, skin-thinning cortizone cream for far too long to absolutely no avail, I decided to try the healthy, hemp-happy health food store. I am a crunchy girl at heart, after all. I like natural things with ingredients I can pronounce, preferably not tested on angry monkeys.
I made one big mistake: I brought Spawnling with me.
Actually, make that two big mistakes: I brought him right after I fed him a donut full of sugar with sprinkles full of artificial colours.
When we pulled up, I guiltily attempted to wipe the multicoloured evidence off his mischeivous little face, took him out of the car seat and walked into the organic wonderland. I directed him toward the little play area for kids and walked a few steps over to find the naturopath. There, I showed her my hands and we started to talk about how and why this rash was happening.
"Have you had this rash a long time?" She asked me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spawnling climbing out of the toy area.
"No... Well, yes. I mean, sort of," I replied. Spawnling was now examining the bags of kettle chips and thinking about picking one up. He decided against it and shuffled just out of sight.
She said "Are you asthmatic?"
Spawnling started walking toward us with a jar of honey. "Um, excuse me for just a .... Spawnling, can you put that back, please? Very gently. That's right. Okay, go play with the toys now.... Yes, sorry. Mildly and unmedicated most of the time."
"And do you have trouble sleeping? Anxiety?" she asked. My three-year-old giggled and ran down another aisle.
"Um, a little. Yeah. I mean I sleep okay. Anxiety, yes. I have a history of it."
"Do you have a lot of stress in your life?" Spawnling ran at me with a loofah.
Stress? Really? Did she just ask me that? Lady, I have three kids. One is a teenager, one is a quick-to-anger seven-year-old, and the other is attempting to impale me with a sponge on a stick as we speak. My house is a mess, I have next to no time for myself, I'm always busy but nothing ever seems to get done... and you're asking me if I have a lot of stress?
I took a breath and smiled as I walked The Spawn back to the natural sponge display rack, then back to the toys. "Yes, I think it would probably be safe to assume that. See that little testosterone terror? I have two older versions of him at home."
Her eyes went wide. "THREE BOYS?! Say no more. No wonder you're stressed. I have three girls and that was pretty busy, but I can't imagine three boys! Do you ever get time to breathe with all that energy in your house? Oh my goodness. You need a B-Complex for stress, a probiotic to cleanse your gut, and some topical cream for your hands. And rest, and some extra help if you can get it. Come back and see me if this doesn't help. And good luck." She handed me the goods and gave me a look filled with -- was that respect? Respect because I was still breathing, perhaps, or maybe just because I managed to have a shower and put makeup on that morning.
My hands are slowly getting better. The B-Complex is helping a great deal, and my tummy feels healthier already. No loofas were injured during the retelling of this tale.