The first step ...

14 May 2012

Mood: Neutral

There was always a fear, but having so many years of luxury of having recovered from my eczema – I did not realise it had existed within me. However, for the past month a lot has crossed my mind.

The thoughts of the past, came flooding in one by one from to seeing a naturopath to seeing multiple Chinese herbalists to seeing a fair few dermatologists and getting allergy tests before being recommended to one  dermatologist that had finally put water to the burning flame within me.

After being on cortisone for three years, my eczema had been held at bay. My weight however had gained sufficiently due to the effects of the medication. I have to this day been off cortisone for about five years.

But through this horrid autumn, it has come back. This unknown fear has surfaced me for the last few days; I do not want it to be back. Little had I expected that having the luxury of having good skin would make me feel like I wished I never had those five years at all, to know what it was like to be good.

Today, I start this blog for myself. This has also been a big regret for the last few days that I had not done this previously, as my memory has failed me. Failed to remember the horrid pain I had felt, only remembering what I had been through. This blog however, is to mark my journey to recovery. Also, to remind me – if life ever throws lemons at me, no lemons could ever sting me as much as this. I can always look back and think, I have had worse and this is nothing.

As it has been about thirteen years since my eczema had first flared up, I believe my mind has matured – my thoughts and views on certain things have also changed. I am more willing to try things in order to see where it can lead. Though, I may still hold a reserve on some things – but I believe I have opened my mind more.

I have begun to see a Chinese herbalist again, and I simply laugh at the memory, which flooded my mind. My uncle and aunt chased me around the house holding a bamboo stick threatening me to drink that horrid black medicine. But sadly, their good will had come to no avail; I had still refused profusely to take that liquid. But now, I look at the black liquid with an open mind, and simply pour it down my throat washing it with water.

Then I’m reminded of the baths I had to take, once even having to wash myself with boiled Chinese herbs. I don’t remember how bad the sting was, all I remember was sitting in the bath tub with tears rolling down my eyes, and shower time was something I had dreaded dearly every day.

It seems that as days pass by, as much as it is to my regret that I forget the pain. I am reminded of events, events in which I am glad that I have the people that were around me. The people who love me dearly and even if I had no strength to carry on myself, they were there to offer me theirs.

They say; a mother’s love is the greatest love of all. I believe that, not only do I believe it, I swear by it. I actually don’t even think saying that one sentence can ever justify how strong it is.  There is nothing that can ever repay the love and attention I have received from both my parents, let alone to repay all the other aunts and uncles in which have helped me along the way.

I know both my parents look and worry, but then I also know a part of them wish this is something that had happened to themselves rather than see me in pain. I beg to differ, if only they know that as their child to see them in pain, I too would wish the same.

However, this is what makes me who I am. This is what has made me who I am.