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My tonsillectomy
by Sieglinde W. Alexander
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 ˝ year
old.
In fact, I was 15 ˝
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 ˝ 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 ˝ 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. (staring the next chapter.)
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Haunting Shadows from the Past
