My hands are better than they used to be. In fact, all of my skin is much better than it has ever been. Every once and I while though, I feel that tear, the one that lets me know I need to redouble my efforts moisturizing my hands.
It has been so bad in the past that once, when I was writing under the document camera a student actually said, “Ms. Gillespie, your hands really freak me out!”
Sometimes, they really freak me out, too.
But not right now.
Although there are a few problem areas, right now, only the knuckle on the middle finger of my right hand freaks me out. There is a canyon that runs perpendicular to the folds of the knuckle. I can’t say it hurts, really, but I am certainly aware of its presence. I do, however, take great pleasure watching the canyon fill with cream, turning it white, from the red it was before. It brings a kind of relief – a flexibility of the skin where there was only tightness before.
It is an ongoing battle. Really more like skirmishes these days. Anyone with eczema has to constantly channel Winston Churchill and say
“We shall defend our skin, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the fingers, we shall fight in the crooks of our elbows, we shall fight on the feet and the backs of our knees, we shall fight on the forehead we shall never surrender.”
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