In Germany in the late sixties, a new theory was enforced on people with psoriasis.
The believe was that tonsils are the main reason for psoriasis.
I was 18 years old when I was gain for the dirt time admitted to hospital because the psoriasis has spread all over my body. There was not on spot of my skin that had not been covered with the crusty layer of the skin disorder.
Psoriasis appeared shortly after my 12 birthday, very slightly visible on my scalp. My mother didn’t noticed it for the simple reason the never washed my hair nor cared for my hygiene. She was not even aware that I menstruate already as of 10 ½ year old.
In fact, I was 15 ½ years old when I saw for the first time a doctor for this well-known skin disorder. After the child protection agency had given in to my plea to be removed from my parents, I was send to the home for young mothers, because I was pregnant. A month after my arrival in the Elisabeth Home in Augsburg, a home for young mothers, a place for fallen girls, I was rushed to the hospital where I was diagnosed with a tubal pregnancy and had a emergency surgery. At this time, one of the doctors there recommended hospital treatment for my psoriasis.
Beds in hospital rooms were hard to come by and I had to wait another two month until I finally was admitted for the first time. For 5 ½ month, twice a day, the psoriasis that was all over my body, I was targeted manly with the application of a stinking tarp ointment and Zignolin that discolored the good skin purple. The head was greasy and smelling, raped up with stocking like cap. I as well as the rest of every psoriatic patent’s, our body was dressed in old cotton scrubs stained by the Zignolin. We all looked like the outcast of leprosy camp. None of the 15 people, age of 15 to 73 year old, who were stuffed in the same dark room as I am, was physical ill but we have to lie all day bed. The dreary blue white checkered bed sheets stained from the Zignolin were only bearable after the lights were turned of at 9 pm. Why we have to be in bed all day was explained to me by the hospital staff was, to keep control over the patients well being. Many of them were crying all day while others showed very aggressive reaction toward the nurses as well as their roommates. The only highline of the day was the daily doctors bedside visits, the absolute lousy food provided ironic entertainment and the visitors who came to see some of my roommates had.
I had no visitors and found a way to entertain my self. I sneeked out of the hospital, warring an over code over my stained camp racks and walked to the library nearby.
This was the time reading became my escape from depression. I began to read everything available from Freud, Jung, Greek, and Germanian mythology as well as law books. I was in a reading frenzy, which became the satisfaction I missed in my earlier childhood. I was not allowed to read, I had to work. As my mother said, “reading is for lazy kids”, we had to earn our food.
At age 18 while now in Weiher near Hersbruck, another home for bad girls, my psoriasis came again to a point where medical treatment was finally unavoidable. In spite of the house doctors recommendation that I should have a tub-bath at least once a week, to soften and loosen the crusty death layers of skin the psoriasis produces, I had to continue washing my body daily on the sink with cold water and a washcloth. Only every 14 days we all were allowed a hot shower, and I was no exception.
Finally, my psoriasis was infected, crusted with a smelling using psoriasis around my ears. Finally, I was admitted to the dermatological hospital in Nuernberg where Professor Weber was in charge.
The treatment was the same from what I have received 3 ½ year earlier. The room was a little brighter but held instead of 15 patient of all ages, now we were 20 in one room. Some new products were tested on me and cortisone shuts were the newest solution to “cure “ psoriasis vulgaris. After 3 weeks my psoriasis seams not making progress and a new Russian ointment was tested on my left leg in conjunction with high dosage of UVB light. With the ointment on my leg I had to lay necked for 30 second under this newly developed lamp. The problem was that the nurse, who was responsible for the treatment, forgot to set the timer. The result was, I was severely burned all over the front side of my body. High fever came a few hours later and was the first sign and blisters as big as golf balls growing out of my skin were the results of this careless treatment. Today I still have the marks on my left leg of 3rd degree burns in form of hand size big discolored area where even only white hair grow.
After I have recuperated from the burn wunds, a new treatment was on the agenda. To all doctors it was clear that the tonsils are the reason for psoriasis. It didn’t matter that my tonsil were in good shape, I never had more than the usual through infection, the tonsil had to come out, and they did.
The tonsillectomy was done with local anesthesia. Each tonsil was poked three time and injected with anesthesia. I don’t need to describe the pain I felt but I need to tell what came after.
While my tonsils became numb my through started swelling. Not only my trough was swollen, I felt my complete sinus system is closing down and I am no longer able to breath. I panic and try to jump out of the chair. Quickly I have surrounded with two male nurses who where holding down while the doctor used a sling cutter to cut remove the tonsils. As the blood tripped down my through I had flashbacks. I saw myself as a six year old being strapped into the dentist chair, being orally raped by my dentist. The situation from many years ago felt just like at this moment of being health down by the male nurses.
The next day after surgery the doctors visit ended by telling me that I was a real bad and non-cooperative patient and I should be ashamed to act the way I did and was send over the dermatology into my bed, that was still reserved for me.
Three month later, I was released from the hospital all together with only partially healed psoriasis and a healed left food where the skin was white. the melatone never returned after the burn.
Six month later, I finished my bachelor degree in Tailoring and was released from Weiher. I moved in to the house of my future parent in-law. Another part of victimization begun there and ended with my divorce in 1972.
Having met my Husband Harry while staying in the Hospital in Nuernberg it was the only way out of Weiher in Hersbruck.