Milestones

During the first few months of pregnancy # 2,  I was tired 24/7, had a lot of headaches and some morning sickness too.  Thankfully, those pesky side effects of early pregnancy dissipated once my second trimester was underway and I’ve been feeling much better in recent weeks.

But while some things have improved, my hands have taken a turn for the absolute worst.  I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been dealing with eczema off and on my whole life.  I had a bad flareup last summer, involving eczema on my hands.  The flareup never went away completely but I was able to deal.  Then, a few weeks into my pregnancy (back in February), the hand eczema got really nasty and I developed a staph infection on my hands.  Antibiotics cleared it up but as soon as I stopped the antibiotics, the eczema on my hands returned.  I tried to cope as best I could, mainly by minimizing hand washing, having Jim give Taiho his bathes whenever possible, and refraining from using household cleaning products unless it was absolutely necessary.  I stopped using the creams I’d been prescribed because they didn’t help anyway and followed the only treatment that’s worked in the past: waiting out the flareup.

Recently the wait has become unbearable because this week took me to a series of low.  My sleep was bad because I couldn’t stop scratching the skin on my hands.  I couldn’t cook or brush my hair, and washing dishes was out, even if I wore rubber gloves.  Pushing the stroller made my hands burn so Taiho and I went out much less.  I spent a lot of time lying on my couch, trying to do as little as possible.  The rock bottom came at the dermatologist’s office on Friday.  When it was time to make my copay, I had trouble signing my name on the credit card receipt.  I guess I was struggling visibly because the receptionist kindly told me I could just write an “x” on the signature line.

None of the many dermatologists I’ve seen over the years have been more than marginally helpful, so I didn’t have high hopes for this new doctor.  The dermatologist told me pregnancy was likely exacerbating my eczema and was confident that if all else fails, it will clear up after the baby is here.  Great, I only have to live with blisters, crusty, cracked skin and oozing pustules for another five months or so! She prescribed some creams, one of which I’d already used with no improvement to my condition, told me to minimize my exposure to water (what else is new?), and wash my clothes with fragrance-free, hypoallergenic detergent (been doing this for years).  I prodded the doctor.

“Is there anything else I can do?  I haven’t had great luck with topical medications and I haven’t been able to function like a normal human being.”

“You could always try aromatherapy or a massage,” said the doctor.

At that point I knew it was pretty hopeless.  Here was a reputable dermatologist with impressive credentials, the former chief resident in dermatology at a highly-respected teaching hospital and her advice was… aromatherapy and massage?

I left the doctor’s office feeling even more demoralized.  My hands were a disgusting, painful mess and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do for them.  Still, I filled the prescriptions and bought some Benadryl.  The dermatologist recommended I take Benadryl before bed.  I think her rationale was that the Benadryl would knock me out so I wouldn’t be inclined to scratch my hands during the night.

It’s been a few days and I’m happy to report there has been some improvement.  I’m chalking it up to the Benadryl.  The Benadryl must be doing its job because I haven’t been waking up in the night to scratch my hands silly.  I’m still not doing dishes or bathing Taiho but I’ve been able to do a tiny bit of cooking and push the stroller.  And I am typing this blog post out without wincing!  I’m hopeful the worst of this eczema outbreak is behind me.

Despite the rough week, somehow I managed five runs.  It’s been a few months since I’ve run five days per week, and I’m glad I was able to make it happen again.  Running has been sort of boring at times; doing every run at an even pace and always putting in an even effort gets tiresome.  Still, I am so glad to be running.  There will come a point in this pregnancy when I’m going to have to stop running until the baby is here.  I don’t know when I’ll reach that point.  Until it does, I’m going to make each run count and be thankful for every day I lace up my running shoes and put one foot in front of the other.  My hands are failing me for the time being but my feet are coming through beautifully.  I could be doing worse.