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Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

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Smell

Namaste

Evelyn Herwitz · November 29, 2022 · Leave a Comment

Staying in shape during the pandemic has been, shall we say, a challenge.

The nearby college gym, where I walked an indoor track and rode a stationary bike, shut down to non-students for months in 2020. Even when it reopened for members like me the following year, I didn’t want to risk Covid exposure. Same story for the studio where I took Pilates classes.

I tried some online classes, but that didn’t work. So, I fell back on my favorite form of free exercise, walking my half-hour route around our neighborhood. But, of course, cold weather and rain and ice presented plenty of excuses to cocoon inside.

Other than my daily morning and evening stretches, which have spared me from becoming totally inflexible, I have definitely lost muscle tone and strength. I’ve been somewhat better about taking my walks in good weather, but now that we’re entering winter here in New England, I’m having a harder time pushing myself out the door before it gets dark.

Given my recent diagnosis of Type II stress-induced pulmonary hypertension, however, something had to change. And so, after procrastinating and feeling more creaky as a result, I finally decided to sign up for an easy yoga class to build strength, flexibility, and stress-management skills.

The studio is 15 minutes from home in a lovely, historic carriage house near downtown. As soon as I walked into the space, with its soft lighting and lavender scent, I felt calmer. I introduced myself to the instructor and explained my limitations (can’t flex my wrists, limited range of motion, balance issues, stiff ankles and toes). She was welcoming and immediately helpful, setting me up with a thick yoga mat, knee pad, blanket, and blocks for support, and gave suggestions for how to modify some of the poses. Then, to my surprise, a friend showed up, so I had a buddy.

The hour passed quickly, and the pace was slow enough for my skill level. I’m pretty good at figuring out how to modify poses, although my muscles were definitely trembling with some of the balancing and downward-facing positions. But I made it through. And the most amazing thing—my back felt great afterward, a major bonus.

I returned last week with my younger daughter, who was visiting for the holiday weekend. She has more yoga experience than I do, and she really enjoyed the class, validating my assessment that the instructor is excellent and it’s the right level for me. And, it was great to be able to go together.

So, I’m going to do my best to continue. It feels good to be back in a studio setting with an expert instructor who really cares to help me succeed. It’s also great to realize that I’m not as out of shape as I thought. And finding a much-needed weekly oasis of calm? All the better.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

Image: Zoltan Tasi

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Filed Under: Body, Mind, Sight, Smell, Touch Tagged With: body-mind balance, exercise, hands, managing chronic disease, mindfulness, resilience

Backyard Ramble

Evelyn Herwitz · October 18, 2022 · 6 Comments

On Sunday I was feeling cranky. We needed to clean the house. I needed to get my Covid bivalent booster, but I didn’t have an appointment. Too much to do, not enough time.

Fortunately, my wise husband convinced me to get outside on a beautiful fall day to show me a new trail he’d discovered. Our Fair City has many hidden hiking trails that are a short drive from home, and he loves to explore them. This one was once home to a cider mill that has long since disappeared, but the field stone foundation remains, as well as two mill ponds and a stream that once powered the mill. The trail winds around the ponds and stream amidst oaks and maples and white pines and sassafras. Walking through the stunning fall foliage was just the antidote I needed, and I returned home refreshed. As for my booster shot, it can wait until Thursday. Hope you enjoy the view . . .


Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

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Filed Under: Body, Mind, Sight, Smell Tagged With: body-mind balance, mindfulness, resilience

Reunion

Evelyn Herwitz · October 11, 2022 · 2 Comments

This past Saturday evening I found myself at an old-time, family-run Italian restaurant not far from where I grew up. Along with several dozen former high school classmates, we were celebrating that milestone event, our 50th reunion. But for the name tags with our senior class photos, most of us would never have recognized each other, now grayer, heavier or thin with wrinkles, stooped. Hellos were immediately followed by squinting at the name tags and an, “Oh, I remember you!” Or not.

None of my high school friends made it, unfortunately, but the evening was pleasant and the conversations up-beat. Everyone I sat with was wise enough to stay away from politics. It was a good reminder that, despite our national discourse feeling like a high school hellscape, most people are considerate adults. We all grew up a long time ago.

The real highlight of my short visit back home, however, was the ever-stunning beauty of the Hudson River Valley. Someone somewhere (I keep thinking it’s Edith Wharton, but can’t find the quote) said that the landscapes of our childhood remain deeply imprinted in our hearts and minds.

So it is for me, growing up near Peekskill, N.Y. I don’t know if I fully appreciated it when I was young, but I was thrilled by the view outside my room at the old motel where our grandparents used to stay when they’d come from Cincinnati to visit—a wide expanse of the Hudson, glittering in the late day sun. Trains that run alongside the river hooted long and low, and even though we lived far from the river itself, that sound was wonderfully evocative of my childhood, beloved music that drifted across hills and woods to my ears, especially at night, especially in summertime when the windows were open.

I sent a picture of the view to my daughters, and my eldest texted back that I should go to Bear Mountain, which had always been a favorite spot when we’d come down to New York for Thanksgiving weekend. On Sunday morning, I checked out of the motel and took her advice, as the state park was only a short drive across the river. The route along the Hudson is winding and narrow, along a rock cliff, and I am no fan of heights, but I just focused on the road ahead as I crossed the iconic Bear Mountain Bridge, with its fieldstone toll house, no longer in operation. It was either that or another fieldstone shelter at Bear Mountain that makes a cameo appearance at the beginning of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.

Up the squiggly road to the overlook at the mountain’s top, I was followed by a couple of guys on motorcycles, but they were in no rush to overtake me on such a winding route with only large jagged rocks between us and the sharp dropoff. I passed a few intrepid cyclists on the way. At the top, the view did not disappoint, though enough other folks had decided to get there ahead of the weekend holiday crowd that there was no space to linger. I got a better view of the Hudson on my way back down, at a scenic overlook, alongside several tourists with real cameras equipped with telephoto lenses.

From Bear Mountain I drove through Peekskill, which, to my amazement, has barely changed since I was last there, at least 20 years ago. Some of the same mom and pop businesses still remain. The downtown, such as it is, remains dominated by red brick storefronts and the odd, curved, windowless, painted brick building that once housed Genung’s, the local department store where my mom bought me my first bra.

With a little help from my GPS to drive in the right direction out of town, I found my way to the familiar route to our old home. There were a few notable changes: the nunnery is now a condo complex; the community hospital where our mother was treated for the cancer that took her life in 1999 is now owned by New York Presbyterian Hospital.

I turned off the GPS and continued on, past houses that look much as they did when the school bus drove us by, past the decaying one room school house that’s now barely recognizable, past the gas station and general store where we’d walk sometimes to get Bazooka Bubblegum, past what was once a dude ranch for city folks that became a yeshivah while my dad was still living here, to the familiar left-hand turn onto our old road.

The house is barely visible now, hidden behind overgrown shrubbery, its yellow siding that my parents had installed decades ago now dark with mold. There were several cars in the drive and parked in the turnaround out front, so I quickly took a few photos, then drove down to the lake where I’d learned to swim and skate. It was clogged with algae and lily pads, no longer a place that anyone would dip a toe. Boaters were warned to proceed at their own risk. All that’s left of the large weeping willow that was planted when I was a kid is a ragged stump that looks like the remains of a lightening strike. There are weathered picnic tables and a playscape to one side, and the tennis court that used to be reserved for men only after they came home from their New York City train commutes, but the only signs of life, other than the aquatic, was a lot of Canada geese poop. Down the road from the path to the lake was a home with huge blue flags declaring the election victory of the former guy. It was time leave.

On my way out of town, I stopped at an roadside diner that used to be a favorite place for occasional dinners out. There are no longer any jukeboxes at the booths, and the restaurant has expanded well beyond its original blue diner car footprint, but the inside is authentic retro from back in the day, my hearty brunch was great, and it only cost twelve bucks.

Three-plus hours later, I walked in the door and found my husband decorating our pine-bough-covered sukkah, in preparation for the Jewish festival of Sukkot. Later that evening, after we’d finished eating out in the sukkah, I leaned back in my chair and studied the gourds that Al had hung from the lattice roof and smelled the pine boughs and was just grateful to be back home.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

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Filed Under: Body, Hearing, Mind, Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch Tagged With: mindfulness, resilience, travel, vacation

Ooh la la!

Evelyn Herwitz · August 30, 2022 · 2 Comments

At long last, after three years of Covid delays and a bout with Omicron in July, we finally traveled abroad on vacation. This time, we went to Canada, spending a meaningful weekend with family in Toronto and a lovely week in Québec City, which feels like going to Europe without flying across the ocean. I’ve been intrigued by the capital of Québec for years, and it was well worth the wait.

We stayed in the charming Old City and walked and walked up and down the hilly streets, using the funicular only a couple of times at the end of our visit because my feet were giving out. Over a week’s course, we learned a lot about the city’s military history and First Nations. Québec City was built on a high cliff as a fortress and played a major role in the Seven Years War between France and Britain for control of Canada. In a decisive battle in 1759 on the Plains of Abraham, the British won, a turning point that soon led to British control of the territory. This, after the French laid claim to lands that had belonged to First Nation peoples for thousands of years prior. Stories unique to place and time, but all too familiar.

The Old City’s architecture features stone buildings with dormers and metal roofs that are curved at the bottom so snow falls away from the foundation. Churches abound, though we learned that here, as elsewhere, the number of church goers in this predominantly Catholic province are declining. So some churches are being repurposed, including a tasteful renovation of a church into a public library.

We saw wonderful and moving art as well, including a powerful outdoor installation near the port by Ai Weiwei of hundreds of life jackets worn by Syrian refugees, which he collected from the Greek island of Lesbos. Talented street performers juggled and balanced on unicycles in the plaza next to the posh Chateau Frontenac, a landmark hotel. Beyond the Old City’s gates, we toured the Parliament building, which is modeled after the Louvre in Paris and home of Québec’s National Assembly, and the Musée national des beaux-arts du Québec, where we saw an exquisite special exhibit of carvings by Inuit artist Manasie Akpaliapik.

And we traveled up the St. Lawrence by bus to explore the Chute Montmorency, a thundering waterfall that is slightly higher than Niagara Falls, and from there by train to Baie-Saint-Paul, a pastoral town that is home to many artists. Other highlights included a guided tour of the Musée Huron-Wendat and a relaxing cruise on the St. Lawrence. A good thing we walked so much, even as I was exhausted by day’s end, because the food is excellent and the deserts magnifique.

Everywhere we went, we were surrounded by the lyrical sound of spoken French. While I was able to understand about 80 percent of what I read in museum texts, signs, and other materials, the spoken language is very fast and also a dialect, so we had to converse in English. Nonetheless, we were both grateful to our high school French teachers so long ago, that we were able to keep up as well as we did. And, yes, people really do say “ooh la la” instead of “oh wow!” Much sweeter to my ear.

So, here are some of my favorite images from the trip. Profitez-en bien!

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

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Filed Under: Body, Hearing, Mind, Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch Tagged With: resilience, travel, vacation

Quietude

Evelyn Herwitz · July 5, 2022 · Leave a Comment

I skipped the fireworks this July 4th weekend. I just wasn’t up for it. Last week was such a heavy lift in so many ways, with so much at stake in our democracy. Al and I had no special plans for the holiday, which was fine. I had a long to-do list and needed time to think.

When I finally got up from my desk yesterday for a late afternoon walk around the neighborhood, I was expecting to hear boisterous backyard parties, music, even the pop of firecrackers. But to my surprise, it was quite still. No one else was out walking, unusual for the time of day. Some neighbors had decorated their homes with American flags. One had strung red-white-and-blue bunting from the windows. There were a few homes with a line of cars parked out front, and I smelled some barbecue. But no laughter drifted on the light breeze.

On a picture-perfect Independence Day, the loudest sounds were the chatter of house sparrows and the pensive coos of mourning doves. A few bunnies hopped across lawns. A couple of neighbors, pausing from tasks, said hello. My hydrangea burst silently into full bloom. And that was it.

I am one who enjoys moments like these. As I walked, I was grateful for the peace, the quiet, the contemplative mood. In other neighborhoods across our country, that is not a given. Nor is it a given in other countries around the world.

I hope that you and yours are able to find quietude when and where you seek it. We all need time, right now, just to be.

I’ll be taking a couple of weeks off to do just that, back later in July. Peace.

Evelyn Herwitz blogs weekly about living fully with chronic disease, the inside of baseballs, turtles and frogs, J.S. Bach, the meaning of life and whatever else she happens to be thinking about at livingwithscleroderma.com. Please view Privacy Policy here.

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Filed Under: Body, Hearing, Mind, Sight, Smell Tagged With: mindfulness, resilience, stress, vacation

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About the Writer

When not writing about living fully with chronic health challenges, Evelyn Herwitz helps her marketing clients tell great stories about their good works. She would love to win a MacArthur grant and write fiction all day. Read More…

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I am not a doctor . . .

. . . and don’t play one on TV. While I strive for accuracy based on my 40-plus years of living with scleroderma, none of what I write should be taken as medical advice for your specific condition.

Scleroderma manifests uniquely in each individual. Please seek expert medical care. You’ll find websites with links to medical professionals in Resources.

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