Published on | by redblob6
Flake Update: Hot Handed
Do people with psoriasis make good burglars? I doubt it. Imagine all the evidence you’d leave behind. All the DNA-encrusted skin crust. You’d have to walk out of the house backwards, hoovering up as you retreated.
But, leaving that tangent for now, here are the flaky fingers that I promised to photograph in my previous post. It’s day 3 of my evening juicing routine, and they’re looking OK to me. An average 5/10 (flaky, but not too flaky, red, but not hot red).
So far I haven’t had a miraculous response to the juice, but it’s still early days. Although I do have a strange magnetic pool towards chewing tobacco, whistling through a pipe and flexing a tumorous-looking bicep like Popeye. That might be the 2 carrier bags of spinach I’ve ingested in two days.
For now, I think I’m going to extend my juicing routine for longer than a week to give my body space to react, expel toxins and begin rebuilding new skin. Skin itself takes ages to regenerate – one doctor I saw recently said it would take 6+ months to see completely new skin – so I might as well dig in for a longer period.
I’ve always hated having psoriasis on the hands. Meeting somebody, shaking hands. Running your hands over your lover’s body. Playing an instrument. Your hands are your tactile doors to the physical world, and having them bleed, flake, itch or just hurt in general is a pain in the ass.
Plus, giving hive-fives is NEARLY ALWAYS awkward with psoriasis. As soon as your hand is swinging through the air, it “clicks” for the other person that this human paw racing towards them is not right, and you can literally see the horror in their eyes as they contemplate the social impropriety of pulling their hands away to avoid contact, but by then its too late, and you touch, wondering “Did they feel that king-sized flake on my palm?”
Time for more juice.