Skin and Blood

Without wishing to get all Embarassing Bodies on you all, if I’m to talk about my time in hospital, as I very much want to, then you need to know how I ended up there. And to do that, I need to give you a little bit of background/context.

Around fifteen years ago, I was diagnosed with psoriasis. Here’s what the NHS has to say about the condition:

“Psoriasis is a skin condition that causes red, flaky, crusty patches of skin covered with silvery scales.

These patches normally appear on your elbows, knees, scalp and lower back, but can appear anywhere on your body. Most people are only affected with small patches. In some cases, the patches can be itchy or sore.

Psoriasis affects around 2% of people in the UK. It can start at any age but most often develops in adults under 35 years old, and affects men and women equally.

The severity of psoriasis varies greatly from person to person. For some it’s just a minor irritation but, for others, it can majorly affect their quality of life.

Psoriasis is a long-lasting (chronic) disease that usually involves periods when you have no symptoms or mild symptoms, followed by periods when symptoms are more severe.”


Sounds yummy, doesn’t it?

And boy, does my heart swell with pride to learn that I’m one of the lucky 2% in the country to be afflicted.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for psoriasis, but a range of treatments can improve symptoms and the appearance of skin patches. My symptoms were limited to my knees, shins and elbows, so could be covered up whenever I was out and about. I was prescribed various ointments which seemed to prevent the affected areas from spreading.

Then, around June this year, suddenly it went nuclear, spreading to pretty much every part of my body below the neck line. (‘Little Jez’ remained unaffected, not that anybody would know.)

I went to my GP, who referred me to a consultant dermatologist. I waited for contact.

A few weeks later, I’d not heard anything so I returned to my GP. By now there was an extra factor which I wanted to let him know about; during his previous examination, he had asked if I was getting any aches anywhere, which at the time, I wasn’t. But now, I had developed pain in my legs and feet, my arms felt like I had been punched and given a dead-arm, and I had a loss of grip and function in both of my hands. In short, walking had become difficult and painful, and I was unable to do the simplest of task, such as holding a pen, or opening jars and packaging.

It turns out there’s a complication of psoriasis called psoriatic arthritis, and my GP suspected I had developed this too. A quick call to the consultant, and I had an appointment a week later.

And so it was that I found myself sitting behind a curtain in my underwear, being examined by a seemingly unending line of consultants and medical students.

Which seems to be a pretty good time for a tune:



The Stranglers – Skin Deep

A week later, I returned to the dermatology clinic, for a further round of poking, prodding and blood tests.

That evening, my phone rang. The call showed up as being “No Caller ID”, so I ignored it, assuming it was a sales call. A voicemail was left, which I also ignored; we’ve all received those calls, where you listen to the voicemail and it’s an automated message asking you to contact somebody about the accident you’ve (not) been involved in, or the PPI you really should reclaim before it’s too late.

By this time, as my loss of function had worsened, I’d signed off work for seven days. I was now due to either return to work, or get officially signed off by my GP. I planned to go to see my GP the next day, which meant getting up early to try and get an appointment, so I went to bed early.

I woke the next morning to find a further ten missed calls. This seemed a particularly aggressive cold call sales campaign. As I went to listen to my voicemalis, the phone rang again. I answered, and found myself talking to one of the dermatological consultants I had met the previous day. She explained that they had reviewed my blood tests, which showed a very high probability – around 80% – that I had a blood infection. A serious one. She instructed me to get myself to A&E as soon as possible.


Supergrass – Bad Blood

Which is where we’ll leave it for today. Tune in next time for the next thrilling instalment.

Or, More Soon, if you prefer.

If you want to read more about the medical condition called psoriasis, then clicking here takes you to the relevant page on the NHS website.

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28 thoughts on “Skin and Blood”

      1. (not that I am suggesting I want to be friends with little Jez, I shoul have said ” asking on behalf of a friend”)

  1. Ouch, that doesn’t sound very fine, I must say! Then again, the fact that you’re back and writing again implies that the second part of the story will be less painful/dangerous …. at least I hope that this is the case!

    Either way: good to have you back, mate!

  2. I’ve had psoriasis for about 30 years but fortunately not any of the more extreme symptoms you’ve recently experienced Jez
    Tends to flare up in stressful situations but I have learnt to live with it

  3. Heck that sounds really horrid for you – As everyone else says though, the fact you are home and blogging again means things must have improved (hope so anyway). And, of course, you can depend on the guys to jump in with a witty comment or two. I suspect that’s just what you need at the moment. Sounds as if LJ had a lucky reprieve!

    1. Actually I’ve started blogging again to try and give my hands some exercise (that should attract some witty/rude comments!), but you’re right, I had missed the interactions via the Comments too.

  4. Oh god, sounds scary and awful for you. And you were stoical throughou; we didn’t have a clue what was leading up to this for you at the time. Glad you’re out now, and looking forward to next instalment if that doesn’t sound too strange – hopefully you know what I mean! – we all like those medical programmes on TV…

    1. No, that’s fine – I’m glad you’re all enjoying the idea of me being in pain! Just kidding; it’s funny but on several occasions as I was laying in my hospital bed, I found myself thinking “I can’t wait to blog about this!”

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