I’ve gotten a few concerned messages wondering where I’ve been lately. I’m here to confess that I have been hiding—avoiding might be a more appropriate word—from the world. There are a multitude of reasons, but they all stem back to one problem. My skin. No, it’s not a giant zit or newly developed wrinkles—I’m not as vain as Stasia Athory—I wish it were that simple.
The battle of the skin condition has been off and on for a few years and I’ve never really gotten a satisfactory answer as to what I’m dealing with. A few trips to the dermatologist explained it as contact dermatitis. I submitted to an allergy test, that was inconclusive. A particularly nasty flare ended me up at Urgent Care, where it was again chalked up to contact or A-topic dermatitis, a fancy way of saying eczema.
Every time, I was sent home with a prescription for steroid cream. This cleared it up, but the rash rebounded when I stopped using the medication. The gals at Prairieland and my faithful herbalist have been analyzing and experimenting trying to find me some relief for my itchy, peeling skin. Yes, it literally peels off in sheets and has led to the nickname Zombie Girl.
I’ve made changes in my diet, skincare and haircare. You name it, I’ve probably tried it. I can honestly say, it is affected by stress. My last flair showed up right before the release of Re-enchanted and attending ICON last year. This made me think back to the other horrendous episodes, yep, right before, or directly after the release of both previous books. Small flares reared their ugly heads at other stressful times. So maybe it’s all in my head.
After a recent appointment with my family physician, it was decided I needed to try a new dermatologist. Awesomeness that she is, my doctor is doing the leg work for me and finding me a new derm to pester with my zombie affliction. Until then, I’ll sparingly use the steroid cream and do my best to ignore the incessant itching, inflammation and pain. This is why I’ve been hiding out. The lack of sleep and discomfort has triggered a fibromyalgia flare, so I’m not firing on all cylinders. Talking to me is like talking to a brick wall.
Maybe I truly am turning into a zombie. I have a lot of the traits, lack of focus, skin falling off, and I can out blank stare anyone. If this is true, you should be on the look out for “Confessions of a Zombie Hairstylist” by Rachel Aukes. After all, I would want Iowa’s zombie expert to write my memoirs.