Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

Taste

Speechless

· · 8 Comments

So, just in time for New Year’s, we had yet another Covid scare this past week. Al came home two Fridays ago feeling a bit off. Sure enough, by Saturday morning, which was Shabbat for us and Christmas for many others, he was totally congested and starting to cough.

Fortunately, I had a rapid test at home, and his result was negative. But by Monday evening, my neck glands were swelling and my throat began to feel scratchy. He continued with a lot of coughing and other cold symptoms, and I proceeded to lose my voice to laryngitis, plus develop congestion, coughing, sneezing, and GI issues. Aches, chills, and fatigue for a couple of days, too.

Al’s rapid test was confirmed midweek by a negative PCR test, and I got my negative test result back on Sunday. But as I write on Monday evening, my voice is still quite hoarse. Al is doing much better, and I’m approaching normal, otherwise.

I have not had a respiratory virus like this since I started masking almost two years ago. I have no idea how we got it, but it goes to show that there are still plenty of other nasty viruses circulating, just like every winter here in the Northeast.

I also have come to realize that my Sjogren’s Syndrome is playing a far bigger role in how I respond to such viruses. Having a dry nose and mouth, not to mention dry eyes, makes it that much harder to flush the germs out of my sinuses. And to recover my voice.

So, I’m pushing fluids and limiting conversations. And being very selective about going out in public. I ordered new KN95 masks for each of us (I need kid’s size, because my face is so narrow).

Hoping we’ll get lucky and avoid Omicron. But at least I know my immune system works against a random virus. With my full set of vaccinations, I have a good shot at fighting off this latest variant, too, if what seems like the inevitable happens.

Here’s hoping, by the next New Year, this will all be a fading memory. Stay safe out there.

Post Script

With this post, I have been writing Living with Scleroderma for ten years. My first entry was on January 3, 2012. Hard to believe that what began as a way to finally come to terms with this strange and rare disease publicly and to share what I’ve learned with others has evolved into a decade’s-long chronicle. At some point, I’ll run out of things to say (even without laryngitis!). In the meantime, thanks to all of you, Dear Readers, for sharing the ride.

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: Arwin Neil Baichoo

What I’m Grateful For

· · 2 Comments

What a difference a year can make. Last Thanksgiving, our younger daughter couldn’t come home from Philly because of Covid risks. We had a small celebration with our eldest, who lives only an hour away. But the holiday was overshadowed by all the uncertainty and infections and deaths wrought by the pandemic.

This year, we’re looking forward to all four of us being together on Thursday and to seeing extended family over the weekend. We’re all vaccinated and boosted, so I’m much more relaxed about it than I was last November.

So, of all that I’m grateful for this holiday—our family, dear friends, a nice home in a peaceful neighborhood, a supportive community, the ability to work for myself and pursue my own writing, relative good health despite scleroderma, and more—the thing I am most grateful for this Thanksgiving is the Covid vaccine.

It is an absolute miracle. It is worth the temporary side effects. It prevents serious illness. It saves lives. It has protected me for many months, now. I fear how I would have fared during the Delta wave this summer without it. As cases again surge in Europe and here in the U.S., primarily among those who are not vaccinated as colder weather drives us indoors, I profoundly hope that more people will realize the incredible gift of this scientifically sound and safe vaccine, and get protection for themselves and others around them.

This is my 500th post on Living with Scleroderma. I could never have imagined, when I started this blog on January 3, 2012, that I would be writing about surviving a global pandemic nearly ten years later. Just typing that sentence is mind-boggling. We can never know what is coming next. My hope for you, Dear Reader, is that you make the most of each and every day, whatever it brings—and bring your best to it. That’s really all that any of us can ever hope to do.

Be well, and happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate.

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: Eric Tompkins

Falling Back

· · 4 Comments

On Sunday we made the big shift, setting clocks back an hour to Eastern Standard Time and befuddling our brains in the process. Wait, the sun is nearing the horizon and it’s only four o’clock? Every year we go through this rigamarole, and every year I feel the darkness settle.

Sunlight in November is precious. I used to hate this month when we turn back the clocks, bringing nighttime all the more near. But in recent years I’ve come to appreciate it, despite too-early sunsets and crumbly brown leaves. The light is stark. It casts bare branches silver by day and coats them gold by late afternoon.

Nowhere is November light more beautiful than on Cape Cod, where Al and I spent the past weekend. We walked beaches at sunset, nature preserves at Noon, rediscovered a beloved bookstore frozen in time since the sixties, ate many good meals, and just enjoyed a much needed break. Here are some of my favorite photos from our trip. Enjoy!

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.

Flipper

· · Leave a Comment

It’s been nearly three months since I had #24 extracted from my lower jaw, due to resorption caused by scleroderma. The bone graft is well-healed, and in a couple of weeks I will get the post implanted for my new tooth. Then it’s another three to four months to wait until I get the crown to complete the process.

So, meanwhile, I had a “flipper” made, which is a false tooth on a pink base that snaps in place beneath my tongue. I use it occasionally when I’m on a Zoom call with clients or people I don’t know well, because the gap in my lower jaw looks pretty ridiculous. But thanks to masks for Covid, I don’t really need it when I’m out and about. And when I’m with family or friends, it doesn’t matter.

The question is . . . was it worth it? I had to have it adjusted by my dentist a couple of weeks ago, because it was too loose. She was able to tighten the fit, but she also took another scan of my lower jaw and sent it to a different lab to see if they could improve on the current version (at no cost to me). The flipper makes it a bit harder to speak clearly, but perhaps the new version will be less of an impediment.

Bottom line, though, is that I’ve gotten used to the gap, and I’m not nearly as self-conscious about it as I was, at first. My tongue definitely likes to twist and turn in that open space when I’m thinking. I can eat without any trouble.

On the other hand, February is a long ways away, still, and I have a presentation coming up at the end of this month, on Zoom, of course, that I’d prefer to do without a missing front tooth. The screen view really amplifies the gap. I’ll just have to practice speaking with the flipper in place.

These are trivial problems, of course, in the grand scheme of life. There are many places here in the U.S. and around the world where people cannot afford to keep their teeth as they age, for lack of resources, poor nutrition, and/or limited access to dental services. I know that I’m very fortunate, if I must deal with this chronic issue of resorbing teeth roots, that we have the means to pay for this very expensive process.

(Which is why I sincerely hope that Congress is able to pass popular and long overdue legislation that would add dental benefits to Medicare, despite opposition by the American Dental Association, but I digress.)

And so, like a kid in grammar school, I play with the gap between my teeth, and wait.

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.

Interlude

· · 1 Comment

Our long weekend in Vermont already seems a long time past, but I have the pictures to prove that we really were there just ten days ago. I’ve never been to Lake Champlain, so we set our sites on Burlington, but also took in the beautiful farmlands and mountains nearby in our travels.

High points of our visit included a sail on the lake (the captain let me take the helm for a while, which is a topic for another post), the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum (where I learned about the very complex history of Benedict Arnold), the Shelburn Museum (yes, that really is a steamboat in the middle of the lawn), Fort Ticonderoga in New York (site of critical Revolutionary War battles), and the Von Trapp Greenhouse and demonstration garden in Waitsfield, Vermont (yes, those Von Trapps). Oh, and the food was truly amazing. Enjoy!

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.