Condition 3 – Chapters

Before psoriasis entered my life, I was a completely different person.

Psoriasis first appeared in my body around 2008. Before that, between 2002 and 2007, I was living a normal, healthy life. I had quit smoking in 2002 after being a very heavy smoker, up to seventy cigarettes a day. I stopped cold turkey with the help of a medication called Zyban. When I quit smoking, food suddenly tasted amazing, and I gained some weight, but I stayed active and continued exercising.

I have always been physically strong, with a big build and strong muscles. I was also mentally strong, something I only fully appreciated later, because psoriasis would deeply test my mental resilience.

In 2002, I began my massage training, and that is where I met my lovely wife. Life at that time felt full and promising.

In 2008, I was hospitalised with severe haemorrhoids and underwent surgery. I believe my intense weight training may have contributed. After the operation, I lost nearly ten kilos. The weight loss itself was not the problem. What followed was.

That was when psoriasis arrived — unexpectedly.

At the time, I was working as a massage therapist. As psoriasis became visible on my skin, clients began cancelling their pre-booked sessions. This was a shock. Psoriasis is not contagious. It is not a disease that can be passed from one person to another. It is a condition — and yet the fear and misunderstanding were immediate.

Small patches appeared on my face. My hands became affected. My knuckles were covered, and the psoriasis began reaching my fingertips. I work with my hands. I rely on sensitivity in my fingertips to feel what is happening in another person’s body. Psoriasis was not just affecting my skin — it was affecting my livelihood.

This continued for fourteen years.

Over time, the psoriasis spread. Eventually, around eighty percent of my body was covered. My wife stood by me through it all. She cleaned after me as I shed skin constantly. A lizard sheds once a month. I was shedding layers of skin two or three times every day.

It was bleeding. It was painful. It was itching. It was unbearable.

I tried everything. Creams. Tablets. Injections. Laser therapy. UV therapy. Sun therapy. Experimental treatments. One after another, for years, with little or no success.

I reached the end of my patience. I simply could not take it anymore.

Then, unexpectedly, one of my relatives — someone I can only describe as my angel — reached out and offered me financial help. Without this support, what followed would never have happened.

I was introduced to a specialist. He saw me for only a few minutes. He looked at my skin and said calmly, “No problem. We will fix this.” I was sceptical. By then, I had heard many promises.

This time was different.

I was prescribed Cosentyx, without trial medications. When my insurance finally approved it, they agreed to cover only twenty percent of the cost. I didn’t realise what that meant until I saw the price. Around six thousand dollars per injection.

I was shocked. I could never afford this on my own. But my angel had helped me, and I used that support toward the medication. I covered what I could myself, even going into debt, because survival mattered more than money.

Over time, the psoriasis retreated. Slowly, but unmistakably. From eighty percent, it dropped to almost nothing — less than one percent of my body.

I understand that the word “cured” must be used with caution. But in lived reality, the difference between eighty percent and one percent is the difference between suffering and living.

Four months ago, I had to stop Cosentyx because the financial help could no longer continue. Since stopping, I can feel the psoriasis returning. I am now searching for a way to support my body holistically, to calm the inflammatory process without returning to crisis.

I remain hopeful. Medicine comes from nature. Plants are the origin of many powerful treatments. I believe there must be a way to help the body regulate itself more gently.

This is my story. I share it so others feel less alone, and so that honesty can exist alongside hope.