Eczema and Compassion

Why am I writing about eczema and compassion? For me, the two words have become highly correlated. The worse my eczema is, the more compassionate for others I become. I suppose this is better than wallowing in my own sorrows, at the very least.

Is This Compassion a New Thing?

I’ve always been a relatively compassionate person. I think anyone who suffers from eczema (or another very obvious chronic disease) has their compassion taken to the next level.

I’m of course compassionate and empathetic towards my psoriasisters (I think I just coined that term?) and psoriabrothers (I’ll workshop that one). Psoriasis, like eczema, is frankly not a pleasant thing to look upon. I also think so many medications have been successful at treating (suppressing, rather) it that when we do see it untreated it’s particularly striking.

I suppose my main message on that is: the person with the skin condition knows they have it, where they have it, how big it is, what shade of red it is today, and what product-to-quell-it they used 10 minutes ago significantly better than you do as an onlooker. They are suffering. For the most part, they probably don’t want to talk about it or draw attention to it.

Don’t try to offer solutions if you can help it, just be empathetic.

How I Used to Perceive Eczema in Others

I actually still remember in my mild eczema days seeing a friend/acquaintance with relatively severe facial and hand eczema. His eczema was very much in a flaking stage (ohhh have I been there…now). Mine at the time was more just red and inflamed. I thought I knew what was up, and I remember thinking: “Why doesn’t he just put on lotion?! There are literally chunks of skin hanging off of his face and hands – can’t he just exfoliate?!”. Thank goodness I didn’t actually say these things. I am so deeply ashamed I had these thoughts now. He probably does exfoliate (by scratching and peeling the skin off his body manually, in the shower, or with a sugar or other scrub, etc.). He probably does use lotion. Unfortunately for him, those things don’t help (for longer than five minutes, at least).

Try to give the benefit of the doubt. Try not to offer a product the person should try unless they’ve asked you for a suggestion. (If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me “But have you tried XYZ lotion/salve/oil/medication to cure your eczema?“, I’d be rich.)

Eczema and Compassion and…Male Pattern Baldness?

Outside of skin diseases, I’ve also (strangely?) found a lot of compassion for male pattern baldness throughout my eczema journey. I’m highlighting this because MPB is another one of many visible diseases that are nearly entirely out of the sufferers control. Again, there are many visible (and invisible) diseases. I’m not sure why male pattern baldness struck me, but it did. So I’m writing about it.

Obviously, there are far worse things to be afflicted with than baldness. I think it struck me because baldness is also an appearance and confidence thing. I feel so entirely and completely not myself when my eczema is bad. Hiding in a corner of my house (or bathtub, actually) and just being alone, would be ideal. This is difficult as a typically confident, social, and outgoing person. I hate the way I look; I don’t look or feel like myself.

Bald men have to look and feel unlike themselves all the time. And they have absolutely no hope of it going away! I suppose the consolation for them is going bald isn’t painful (at least to my knowledge), and I expect at some point you do get used to your new look.

Obviously this compassion extends to cancer patients and those who lose their hair due to other medical conditions, but that sort of compassion is automated, not “learned” if you will, in the way it was for me with baldness.

What’d You Think?

Have you followed? Again, this one’s a bit odd, but it was a thought pattern around eczema and compassion I started to notice. So I figured I’d share. Basically, I noticed a change in myself (for the positive) thanks to my eczema.

My sphere of compassion, if you will, greatly increased in diameter.

I suppose that’s one thing to be thankful for?