I’m Toni Morkel, and I am 67 years old.

I was born with eczema. It must have been so difficult for my parents.  Them learning how to deal with a child with a skin condition.  Over the years, they tried everything, from doctors to homeopaths, trying all the different lotions and diets.

There was a time in my teens when my skin was perfect. I was a competitive swimmer, enjoyed horse riding, and spent many hours out in the sun; I wondered if it had anything to do with hormones. Then in my late teens, the eczema just came rushing back. I know that my emotional state had a lot to do with it too. My condition has shifted from manageable to unmanageable and back to manageable over the years. I ended up in hospital several times with terrible infection and inflammation and lived on antibiotics to control the infection. During a really rough patch, my skin was so bad that I managed to scratch all the hair off my head. I didn’t have hair for about 18 months. At that moment, when I had scratched all my hair and eyebrows off, I thought, okay, that’s me; I look like an alien. I feel like an alien. I just want to hide in a dark, cool room.

Then there’s all the damaging things one does to try and satisfy the itch. That itch when it feels like it’s in my marrow, and I use a comb sometimes to scratch because I just can’t scratch hard enough. I remember my hands being so itchy and finding it immensely satisfying to hold them under scalding hot water, while knowing that all I am doing is exacerbating the situation. Just damaging myself more!
In my 20’s I began to realise that so much of my scratching has to do with my emotional state. I began going to therapy, and that has been a very important factor in my life. In fact, it is vital, and I can’t recommend therapy enough. I have subsequently realised that there is a huge correlation between my growing up with extreme OCD and eczema. I notice that I begin to scratch when I’m stressed or anxious. It’s a go-to impulse. I have to talk to myself when I see that happening and tell myself to relax and let go and try and shift the impulse of scratching to something more soothing. I’m not always quick enough to realise it, and it’s a constant battle between my mind and my body.

I am professionally involved in theatre and performance, which means I work in front of an audience. It’s physical work that gets me up and going, running and sweating. This seems impossible when my skin is flared up. Another challenge is when, in film, we shoot something one day and when we get to the next location my skin looks entirely different. It is so evident on the director’s face, or the make-up artist’s, when I walk in; they are already wondering how they will have to disguise what I look like.
The most recent diagnosis of my skin condition was about 3 years ago. I changed dermatologists, and after a biopsy, it seems I have mastocytosis. Although I responded well to the treatments associated with this condition, I still have to religiously follow my regimen of avoiding all the things I’m allergic to and staying out of the sun. It is my worst enemy; even just a few seconds of cloud glare leaves me with a puffy face and weepy eczema.

Although there’s no cure, I have learnt to manage my condition through a combination of medication and behavioural changes. I’m also fortunate to be in a relationship with a partner who is caring and understanding of my condition.