She stretched out her arms – we hugged and cried... Throwing back the duvet, the itch all over my body was unbearable. At 1am, I trudged downstairs, wrapped myself up in my green fleece.
It was the only remedy I’d ever found.
It was July 2008, and over the next year, I suffered from horrendously itchy skin.
It might not sound so bad, but it was hell.
‘I’ve scratched myself raw,’ I cried to my husband Anthony, 47.
I wouldn’t even give my son Jack, 2, cuddles.
Instead, I taught him ‘scratches’. We’d sit gently scratching each other’s backs.
Doctors couldn’t figure it out. At first they suspected a skin infection, then an allergy, or eczema.
No treatments worked.
Being a busy mum to Millie, 6, Billy, 3, and Jack…
