Lady Macbeth Has Eczema
“These red spots sit there, staring back at me in the mirror, tormenting me. ”
“It’s only eczema.” The doctor pulls his hand away, blinking at me as if to double punctuate his statement.
What? Eczema? This foolish man! How could someone with my royal blood have eczema?
Sensing my internal debate, he says “It’s usually hereditary. And it can be triggered by stress.”
“But what is the cure?,” I ask. “Surely, there must be a way to get rid of these spots.”
“There’s no real cure,” he responds. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you a cream. It will help with the itchiness and inflammation.”
No cure?! But how can that be? “You mean, I must live with these spots?”
“Well, yes. Certain things can trigger outbreaks so pay attention to things like diet or too much sun or too much exercise…”
I tune out the rest of what he is saying. He’s useless to me! I will get this damn eczema under my control myself or my name isn’t Macbeth.
One week later…
At home, I spend every evening rubbing the prescription cream in and cursing these spots. I am not a vain woman, but to lose control of my skin like this is unheard of for a lady in my position. I will have perfect skin!
Another week later…
Well, at least the itching has subsided. But why aren’t these spots going away? This morning, there were even more of them staining my cheeks. Okay, let’s be logical about this. It must be something in my diet. I recall Lady Macduff once saying something about her gluten-free diet. That’s it, I must forbid gluten from my diet. And meat and dairy while I’m at it. I must instruct the servants. I’m sure it has to be something I’ve been eating.
Two weeks later…
God, I would really kill for a juicy fat steak. I’m sure cheating one day won’t make a big difference. I’ve been so good these past two weeks. I’ve even cut back on wine. I mean, dinner with hubby these days is impossible without at least a little wine to take the edge off. And my skin is finally starting to improve. No, I must be patient and strong. No steak for me.
Another week later…
God, that spa weekend was amazing. I really needed a break from the hubby. And it did wonders for my skin! The spots are even, dare I say it, finally beginning to fade.
A few weeks later…
I am in utter agony! I’m completely failing this diet. And the spots are back with a vengeance. Even this new dermatologist is saying there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe take a look at their deeper meaning,” she told me. What could she possibly be implying?! I mean, yes, life is getting stressful what with hubby never leaving the house anymore, wandering around mumbling all his nonsense. Then there are all the naysayers at work, whispering behind my back, saying I shouldn’t have gotten that promotion. Ugh, I’m so tired of it all. But I’ll be damned if this eczema gets the better of me!
The following week…
Yoga! It’s a new thing I’m trying to manage my stress level. Though I do really hate the idea of exercising and embracing serenity. It’s so unbecoming for someone in my position. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Nearly three months later…
Damn you spots, damn you! My life is falling apart and you still sit there boldly mocking me!
One week later…
Lady Macspot Spots. That’s what I’m sure they were all thinking at last night’s party. Why do I even bother washing, trying to make myself look beautiful. I wish I could just scrub my skin off. How dare these spots defy me!
Yet another week…
I cannot sleep for I only dream in spots now. Please, spots, just let me be. Out damn spots, out! For the love of god! I will not let something as commonplace as eczema defeat me. This will not be the end of me!
