If we have a family curse, it’s acne: red, splotchy, ugly, sometimes painful blemishes right on the face where everyone can see them.  Well, that and flat-footedness — but as annoying and limiting as that can be, it doesn’t strike the same note of shame and depression as acne. The other scourge of young adulthood, braces on the teeth, is so common now as to be barely noticed.  Acne takes such a toll on self-confidence that I actually prayed to God about it, “Let it not be as bad for my kids as it was for me.” Certainly, I thought, by the time I had children, there would be surefire cures for acne and the common cold; yet, that has not come to pass. Some stronger remedies, yes, but not without their side-effects.

 Sadly, our children have inherited the genes for acne on both sides, manifesting the two different varieties my husband and I suffered.  Donald had the larger, cyst-like kind, on back and shoulders as well as the face, which responded pretty well to Tetracycline. He can quote his Armenian-accented dermatologist to this day, “Let me see that pimple”, and his worst years were the later part of high school into college. Lucky me, I started younger, at an early puberty around ten. I remember my 5^th grade teacher examining my face and saying, “Is that really acne or just a rash?”  I had the prickly, all over the checks, chin and forehead kind, that didn’t respond particularly well to anything, although I was so desperate I tried toothpaste, mouthwash, pure alcohol, all so harsh on the skin. My mother bought a sun-lamp for me, at the doctor’s suggestion: out of that I had several sunburns and even burned the retinas of my eyes, as I tried to read while under the lamp, rather than wear the dark goggles. The only good think about my acne was early start, early leave, and by end of high school and college, it had cleared away.

 My poor boys.  The older one had the cyst type acne, mainly on his neck and chest, which made it so painful for him, it was hard to sleep on his stomach or to dive into water. We got to the dermatologist and tried every ointment available– mainly because I was so reluctant to start my son on the Accutane, the real powerhouse of acne fighting —because the potential side effects are frightening: stomach and liver problems, depression, high triglycerides. Being a boy, he didn’t have to worry about birth defects – oh, great. Finally, we conceded, and the Accutane was clearly the most effective remedy we’d tried, although it required monthly blood tests and monthly appts to the dermatologist who had to write out a new prescription each time, and have it called in to the Pledge program which monitors its use.  Out of this experience came a kind of up-side: the dermatologist took a real shine to my son, Knowing his interest in medicine, she tried to persuade him into dermatology – good money, few people die, and sometimes you can really help them, saying, she’ll hold a spot for him at the practice if she gets to be a senior partner.

 The younger one sailed through middle-school with mostly clear skin, and then over the summer before high school, acne became a problem. We came back early from Cape Cod so that he could have an appointment with the dermatologist and begin the regime. His is more like mine – not as severe, just blotchy and irritated looking, so that people first see the acne, not you. He seems to take it in stride – still somewhat vain about his looks, in spite of the blemishes. Maybe it’s different for boys; maybe the attitudes have changed. It’s still a work in progress, and requires some work on his part and some nagging on mine.

 But, maybe, perhaps, it’s not the curse I thought it was; and maybe it is the outward manifestation of all the changes that are taking place inside – the more important changes.  Maybe it’s my thing; not theirs. It’s not as serious, I know, as many of the conditions and birth defects that affect children, and require such a transformation of their parents and families. But, which I also believe make them evolve into better people with higher priorities. I get that there’s a reason for suffering – that it makes humans evolve, and makes them better, or more God-like, in attempting to alleviate suffering – their own, others, and that of the other creatures of the world. . But, seriously, I just don’t get the purpose - God’s or nature’s - in inflicting acne on already-struggling teens.