After 50 Years of "Just Living With It," My Mom Finally Found Relief From the Eczema That Was Stealing Her Golden Years.
My 72-Year-Old Mom Was Hiding Her Hands in White Gloves. 3 Months Later, She's Living Again.
By Laurie Jamison | Jul 12, 2025 | Sponsored Content
For years it was her hands. Then it took so much more.
I'll never forget finding my mom sitting at her kitchen table with her hands wrapped in dish towels.
"Mom, what's going on?"
She hesitated. Then slowly unwrapped them.
Her hands—the same hands that had raised four kids and volunteered at church for 30 years—were covered in angry red patches. Cracked. Weeping in some areas. Almost leathery. I also saw the same patches on her cheeks. It was so sad to see this.
"It's just eczema, Laurie," she said, quickly covering them back up. "It's come and gone forever. I just need to learn to live with it."
But I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't living with it. She was suffering.
Over the next few months, I watched my vibrant 72-year-old mother retreat from life.
She stopped going to book club. "My hands are too sore to hold a book."
She quit volunteering at church bake sales. "I can't knead dough anymore. And honestly, I'm embarrassed for people to see my hands."
She even stopped coming to my daughter's dance recitals.
The worst part? She'd started wearing white cotton gloves everywhere. First just at night to keep from scratching in her sleep. Then during the day too.
My mother—a woman who'd always taken pride in her appearance—was hiding her hands like a shameful secret.
The 2 AM research obsession
I became obsessed. Every night after work, I researched eczema. Not just basic articles—I went deep. Medical journals. Clinical studies. Forums where people shared what actually worked.
I learned that eczema in older adults is different. The skin barrier is already compromised by aging. Standard treatments often fail because they don't address underlying issues.
I learned about the "skin microbiome"—harmful bacteria (especially Staph aureus) can overgrow on eczema-prone skin, making inflammation worse and creating a vicious cycle.
I learned that moisturizing alone isn't enough. That harsh cleansers make everything worse. That steroids only suppress symptoms without addressing root causes.
The more I learned, the more frustrated I became. Why hadn't any of Mom's doctors explained this?
Why Most Eczema Treatments Seem to Fail (Even When Used Correctly)
What I learned surprised me. It’s not always that the skin is “too stubborn.” It’s that many routines never address the real triggers behind flare-ups.
For years, we kept layering on stronger products — but what I didn’t realize is that the skin itself can act like a natural barrier. When it’s dry, sensitive, or already irritated, creams and lotions may just sit on top instead of sinking in where they’re needed most.
The research I came across suggested a smarter, two-step approach:
Prep the skin first — to condition and calm the surface so it’s ready to absorb.
Then deliver moisture and soothing ingredients deeper — so the skin feels cared for, not just coated.
I had never thought of it that way before, but it made perfect sense.
Even better, the method didn’t involve harsh chemicals, burning sensations, or routines that strip the skin. There was no need for complicated scraping, soaking, or endless trial and error.
It was just a simple, once-a-day routine. The real key? Staying consistent.
So that’s what I did.
Week by Week… Mom's Skin Began to Change.
By the end of the first week, my mom had stopped wearing the cotton gloves during the day.
She stopped hiding her hands.
The cracks were healing. The weeping had stopped. The constant itching had dulled to an occasional annoyance.
She could hold a book again. Wash dishes. Touch her granddaughter's face without worrying about rough skin.
"I keep waiting for it to come back," she told me. "I keep waiting for this to stop working like everything else did."
"What if it doesn't?" I asked.
I saw something in her eyes I hadn't seen in months: hope.
Week three: "I'm going back to book club"
Three weeks in, my phone rang.
"What are you doing Wednesday night? I'm going back to book club."
When I picked her up, she was wearing a blouse I hadn't seen in months. She'd done her hair. Put on lipstick.
"You look beautiful, Mom."
"I feel almost normal," she said, holding up her hands.
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