He was in a between wake/sleep zone, unable to be comforted and soothed. We would hold him until the episode passed, and after 15 or 20 minutes, he would sink back to sleep.

I have always wondered the psychological toll of being awoken in the night in misery, so young, and so traumatic.

He was a spirited child, naughty pre-teen, extremely bright and studious as he got older, and now is in college studying physics. He struggles socially, is shy and quiet and finds interaction difficult.
Related? Maybe….like other parents, we watch and wait and hope for these kids. And keep researching for relief.

My memory of her being an infant screaming in pain and not being able to help her all the time is etched in my mind and I have often wondered if her insecurities and sometimes feelings of inadequacies are a result of the anger and pain she suffered as an infant, through her toddler years and now. She has Eczema on her face, arms, back of her legs, stomach. Elidel was a great relief to her pain but at $110 a tube, which in her case and because of the severity of which she had it would only last a few weeks. We did what we could and as she has gotten older she has suffered with many staph infections, strep through that because her skin is so sensitive it then broke out into impetigo (on her face, the backs of her legs and on her stomach- at different times). It’s my understanding now that Elidel isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

She’s a beautiful girl and as a young soon to be teenager, I do think she lacks in self-esteem about the white patches on her face, scaly arms and legs, the constant itching; it all feeds into her mental stability. I also do think that this along with a family history of mental instability could lead to lasting behavioral disorders.

Cedes Mother

I do believe it’s important to remember that there are other risk factors for mental health disorders (like family history, which exists in my case). But I don’t see how physical pain, staring, teasing, heavy sedatives, hospital trips etc. couldn’t have at least some effect on a person’s life further down the road.

True, it was less than pleasant in grade school and junior high when people were tactless enough to be visibly squicked about my touching them, or to be taken aback if they didn’t realize the condition my hands were in. But I don’t think it was psychologically damaging – or if it was, I got over it.

I *know* I was never whiny, angry or anything but accepting about the condition. It was there. I dealt with it. Sometimes it hurt. Having to soak my oozing, hugely swollen (and blackened) hand for two weeks in Burrough’s Solution instead of getting to go out and play definitely fell in to the ‘it hurt’ category.

But both my parents have told me that they were both astonished that I never did whine or complain about the eczema. In some ways, my mother said it almost made it worse for her because I didn’t — she had to be doubly vigilant because I wouldn’t tell them anything until the situation was truly bad.

In some ways, true, eczema can be a kind of disability. I would have loved to have been a vet, but there’s no way I could have worked in any part of the medical field. I cannot wash my hands so frequently, nor, after nearly losing my hand once to that staph infection, risk contracting infection through the open cracks on my skin.

But you know what? I’ve managed to do about everything else I’ve wanted to do. And *everyone* has something they can’t do. I’ve got a lot of other natural assets that others don’t have, either. That’s called life.

Let’s get over the psychological damage, already. What didn’t kill us made us stronger.