Plastic chemical linked to eczema in young children

Researchers at Columbia University in New York City have released a study showing a connection between a chemical commonly used in plastic household products and the risk that a young child will develop eczema. [press release] [paper] The work was widely covered in the media, including Fox News, which used a rather odd photo.

No, it's not BPA. It's benzylbutylphthalate (BBzP)--good luck pronouncing that--a component that seems to be found mostly in vinyl flooring, but which makes its way into dust, and thence into the body. However, the dominant source of BBzP is food, say the authors of the study, which was led by Allan Just at the Columbia Center for Children's Environmental Health.

BBzP is one of a class of compounds used to make plastics flexible. Scientists have little idea how it might interact with the skin and immune system.

For this study, the scientists took urine samples from pregnant women in the third trimester. Then, after the children were born, the mothers filled out questionnaires at regular intervals, noting whether their kids had had recurrent rashes or had a medical diagnosis of eczema.

The results, from a cohort of 407 women, showed that the chances of children developing eczema were positively correlated with the mother's prenatal BBzP concentration in the urine. The data makes it hard to give a simple number, but higher BBzP clearly means greater risk.

The pattern was similar for African-Americans and Dominicans, the two main ethnic groups represented in the study.

The scientists originally thought BBzP might increase the incidence or strength of allergies, but did not find that to be true in this work.

It's unclear what one can do about the issue, if the science is true. You don't have much control over your environment, especially if you live in an urban apartment, as virtually everyone does in NYC. And BBzP is only one of many factors, including genetics, gut flora, geographic location, diet, and parental smoking, thought to increase the risk of eczema.

Also, it seems that this problem, at least increasingly in the future, will be limited to the United States, since, as with BPA, Europe and Canada have recognized the toxic properties of BBzP and limited its use. The American Chemistry Council has most likely lobbied for BBzP’s continued use.

My daughter is not a smaller version of me. She has asthma

One of the subtle but surprising things I’ve learned as a father is that our children are not little copies of us. Their personality differences shine through from the beginning but become more apparent as they grow up. My son looks like me; he likes dinosaurs and Kraft noodles, as I did; he refuses to learn anything from a teacher, as I did; but he doesn’t “get” Lego, he has no interest in music; he’s got his own opinions, likes, dislikes, and outlook on the world.

Also, he doesn’t have eczema, thank god.

My daughter does, but not as severely as I did. I can see myself in the way she deals with the itch and indignity. My own experience with eczema meant that I knew what it was from the get-go, and I knew what to do to treat it, in the limited way that medicine permits. When my wife doesn’t know what an inflamed patch of skin is, or whether something is infected badly enough that we have to worry about it, I have an answer.

This makes me feel that I am a little bit in control. But here’s the danger: my daughter is developing asthma, which I know nothing about. She hasn’t had a serious attack yet, but when she gets a cold, she wheezes and breathes quickly and shallowly, and the doctors have had us put her on an inhaler—with Albuterol, a bronchodilator, plus a vaporized steroid for more severe incidences.

Because I don’t have asthma (and possibly because I am a dad), I worry less than I should about my daughter’s breathing difficulties. I don’t know what it means. I just assume she’s a small version of me and she’s got a stuffy nose. But she’s not. She’s got a well-defined medical condition that I need to take seriously.

My own father thought of my eczema as something trivial, something I needed to grow up and leave behind. (If only that were possible!) When I was 20, he told me to stop scratching—that adults were able to control themselves. He should have known better, because his own father had had eczema, but he didn’t. He assumed that I was just a younger version of himself who could benefit from some advice.

My daughter is not a smaller, younger me. So I’d better get informed about asthma: how it develops, what causes an attack, what to have on hand. It could be a matter of life or death.

Cryptic children

So I read all of the backlogged eczema news from the holidays. Quite remarkable: there wasn't anything worth talking about. A trawl of the internet at any given time turns up a host of hits for eczema, 50% of which are "eczema is..." explanations for the lucky people who don't know what eczema is; 45% of which are miracle cures; and 5% of which are Yahoo Answers postings along the lines of "OMG i have exsema on my face so gross what can i do about it." Every few days, you see something interesting. But not over the past two weeks, apparently.

And so today I muse: One of the more difficult things about having a very young child with eczema is that they can't explain what they're feeling. Voov is about 18 months and she's just learning to talk, and a lot of the things she says come out garbled. We think she understands most of what we say-- but her answer to any question is usually "yes." What are we to make of it, then, when she starts writhing and crying when we put CeraVe (unscented moisturizer) on her, and she can't tell us why? We ask "is it cold?" "Yes." "Does it sting?" "Yes." Of course, you get the same answer if you ask if it's warm, or if it smells like roses.

I put the CeraVe on myself, and didn't feel anything. But is her skin the same as mine? It must be much more sensitive. As far as we know, CeraVe is the best thing we could be putting on her, and it doesn't raise any irritation.

Lately, she's been learning how to manipulate us, especially where her brother is concerned. She likes to yell "Shmoop!" in a loud, anguished voice, and enjoys bringing her parents' wrath down like artillery on the competition. Perhaps she likes the attention she gets when she complains about CeraVe. It's hard to tell.