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Chamomile in a Crisis
As one who makes a fuss if his hair is a little overgrown or thinks a pimple needs to be excavated with a pneumatic drill, you'd think my husband might have shown a little sympathy when an unknown allergy caused my face and neck to erupt in unsightly scaly, red patches. My face itched constantly, even right up inside my nose. Each morning my eyes were swollen nearly shut and my skin was sensitive to the slightest puff of wind. Though my problem was not in the life-threatening category - at least my life wasn't threatened though my husband came nearer than he knew to a painful death - I was utterly miserable. The first dermatologist I saw advised me cavalierly to stay out of the sun and sold me a bunch of expensive creams and pills. Actually they did seem to help at first but hindsight as they say is 20/20 vision. I think now, this first episode was tailing off anyway. I had a few weeks relief before the next flare up. This time it was so bad that I had to go to emergency on a Saturday morning. Never a pleasant experience. While I sat in a corner shielding my poor face from the curious glances of rude strangers and endured the occasional 'witty' remark from the dregs of Friday night bar room brawls, I reflected on the little things we take for granted. Like not actually being aware of the contours of your face. By now mine was one screaming red patch of agony. My eyes were puffed almost shut and my crab-like scuttle from the car to the sanctuary of the cool waiting room had not saved my face from taking a hit from the sun. This doctor, lemon-faced as she was, at least showed some sympathy. She gave me a different set of pills, a different kind of cream and told me to see my own doctor on Monday. Okay. This cream formed a greasy barrier. It helped the tightness of my skin but it also caused me to itch. On Monday, I was there at the clinic an hour and a half before it opened to secure my position as an emergency patient and be seen as a priority after all those who had had the forsight to book an appointment. I don't know how they manage it, because here, when you follow the system and call for a doctor's appointment the earliest you are likely to be seen is in a week to ten days. Dr. Garcia took one look at me, told me to ditch the previous creams and prescribed another and made yet another emergency appointment with yet another dermatologist. At the pharmacy I had to ask the girl to repeat the cost of the ointment. If it costs this much it must be good, I thought naively. I was to be seen the next day. At least I thought if I am waiting to see a skin specialist everybody in the waiting room will look as weird as I do. Much to my disappointment when I arrived at the hospital the next day, everybody sitting there had skin as clear as a baby's bum. What on earth are they here for I wondered sullenly and cheered myself up by imaging all manner of carbuncles and faruncles blighting these innocent strangers. Eventually I was seen my a doctor who looked just old enough to date my six year old daughter. I sighed under my breath and resigned myself to another useless meeting. The child in the white coat asked me a few questions, peered at me under a magnifing light and pronounced that I had nothing more serious than exzema. He packed me off with more pills. What about a cream, I asked ever hopeful that some wonder ointment would sooth my pain. Chamomile Tea! Don't use anything else on your face except Chamomile tea. I really felt like crying when I left that young whipper-snapper. I'd already spent hours and hours in waiting rooms, spent a fortune on one cream after another and the last and most expensive of them all had caused a most unpleasant burning sensation. Despite my lack of confidence in the young doctor, I put on the kettle as soon as I got home and made a large jug of chamomile tea. I let it cool in the fridge and finally patted my sore and swollen face with the teabags. Oh, what blessed relief. It works. It really works! Now with my face more or less back to its original if slightly shop-worn state, I will have to eventually return to my wonderful young doctor and find out the source of these recurring allergies. It could be pollen or chemical or given his utter lack of sympathy I suspect it might even be my husband. Whatever it is will be scraped from the house like fungus from an infected toenail and replaced with a family-size pack of chamomile tea. |
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Wow you are so lucky that young doctor knew a thing or two about herbs! I think when you find out what the allergen is you should make your husband scrape it from the house! After all if you do it you're likely to aggravate your eczema. I think eczema can be caused by stress and also food allergies, like wheat. I'd be interested in knowing what it is when you find out if you feel like writing another intel on 'the cause'.
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This intel was contributed by JCHume
JCHume
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May, 2012
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