Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

Touch

It’s Never Simple

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A few weeks ago, I ordered new glasses. It’s been a few years since I’ve updated my prescription, mainly because I’ve had so much trouble with dry eyes from Sjogrens that it’s very challenging to get an accurate eye exam. My eyesight is often blurred due to lack of tears, and when I put in drops, they blur again for a while. Really tough to get that Goldilocks measurement.

Then there is the issue of frames. I have worn Silhouette frames for years, which are rimless and very lightweight. I have to be extremely careful not to wear frames that put any pressure on the bridge of my nose, because that will accelerate the formation of calcium deposits on the cartilage, which eventually needs to be removed to avoid creating an ulcer. I’ve gone through this uncomfortable surgery several times over the years, and the last time, the ENT plastic surgeon told me it will be very difficult to do again.

When I ordered my new frames, however, the optician persuaded me to try a different lightweight brand called OVVO, which seemed promising. Only problem is that my face is small, and they have limited small styles. I picked one out that seemed good and hoped for the best.

I got the frames last week. There are a few issues.

First of all, the prescription seems to be off. I can see very well when I read—even fine print. But my distance vision seems worse than before. So I have to have another eye exam. I can swap out the lenses at no cost.

Secondly, however, the frames are a bit too heavy. It’s one thing to try them on without any glass lenses, and another to wear them with real lenses. Even as the optician ordered the lightest weight lenses for me, they add just enough pressure to be too much.

Finally, I realized that the shape is not that flattering. I was trying to decide under pressure, when I didn’t have enough time to really think it through. Fortunately I can trade them in for a better pair, or I’d be out a hefty fee.

So it goes. Never a simple solution with chronicity.

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: David Travis

Spring Beckons

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Nights here have been clear and cold, and the moon is waxing brightly. As I write on Monday morning, I’m anticipating tonight’s stunning view, when the moon will be full, a huge silver plate in the sky—that is, until 12:44 a.m. Tuesday morning, when a two-hour total lunar eclipse will begin. As the moon passes between our Earth and Sun, it will turn a deep red. Hence the name “Blood Moon.”

A full moon in March in this part of the world is also known as a “Worm Moon,” because it marks the approach of spring, when earthworms begin to emerge from the soil, aerating it for the season of new life. Our frigid weather and mounds of snow are starting to recede. I’m looking forward to springier temperatures soon.

As is always the way, however, this time of year also is the hardest on my hands. Dry heat at home and yo-yoing temperatures outside combine to cause my skin to expand and contract and shred and crack. I have to be extra vigilant about my digital ulcers. Right now I have five fingers bandaged.

Fortunately, I also have a well-timed appointment at our hospital’s Wound Clinic this Thursday, so I’m looking forward to their good advice. Their suggestion to use Cavelon barrier film is helping a lot. I spray it on several ulcers before covering them or leaving them bare as needed, both to protect and manage moisture from ointments.

On my worst ulcer, I’m using Cavelon and then Exuderm film to cover it, which retains natural moisture without macerating the skin. All that gets overlaid with a piece of very soft gauze and fabric bandages. It takes me about a half-hour twice daily to change all the bandages, but at least I’m still able to use my hands.

And so, spring beckons. If you’re a night owl with a clear view of the sky, I hope you enjoyed the eclipse!

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: Atul Vinayak

Storm Watch

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As of midday Monday, as I write, we are immersed in white. Al shoveled a foot-and-a-half of snow for two hours this morning, then fell asleep in his armchair for a while. At some point this afternoon he’ll go back outside and finish clearing our drive. We’re expecting up to another three inches by nightfall.

I’m glad he took a break. The snow is fluffy, but even so, it’s a lot of work. I wish I could help, but between the extreme cold and my hands, there is no way for me to do so. Indeed, it’s been decades since I could shovel snow. The last time I can recall, we still lived in our prior home on a major street, and as I was trying to clear the foot of the drive, a plow went by and blocked it up again. The guys in the plow laughed.

Today, Al told me, the plow that was doing another pass on our street actually stopped and helped to clear the end of our drive as well as our neighbor’s across the street.

Looking out for each other is essential in a storm, all the more so today when the storm is not just weather-driven. To the people of Minneapolis, my heart goes out to all of you, especially to the grieving families and friends of Renée Good and Alex Pretti, as well as my gratitude for showing the world what it really means to be in community—in the most bitter, cold, savage circumstances.

I contacted my senators today to express my outrage and ask them to use every tool available to stop this madness when they vote on appropriations this week. It took all of five minutes. It’s the very least I could do. You can find contact information for your congresspeople here.

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.

A-Peeling

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Prepping vegetables for meals is one of those tasks that I often find challenging. I need to wear latex gloves when I cook so I don’t infect my finger ulcers, and this makes handling food difficult, because my fingers have been shortened by both resorption and surgery, so the tips of the gloves always flop around and get in the way. Onions, in particular, are tricky, and my lack of tears from Sjogren’s can make slicing them extremely uncomfortable.

Then there is garlic. I use a lot of garlic in recipes, but it is a beast to peel. I can’t do the trick with slamming the flat side of a chef’s knife on a clove, because I need to protect my hands. So I end up trimming the top and bottom with a paring knife and then slowly picking away the papery skin. Very, very tedious.

That is, until today, when I tried out my new silicon garlic peeler. At least a year ago, a good friend who is an excellent cook introduced me to this little gadget, which I thought was ingenious but never got around to buying—that is, until I had to order some new potholders last week to replace old stained ones that had attracted a mouse. As long as I was finally replacing those gross potholders, why not get the garlic peeler, too?

Here’s how it works: The inside of the tube is covered with bumps to create friction. You place the clove inside, then press down on the tube with the heel of your hand and roll it back and forth a few times. Presto! It neatly removes the skin and leaves you with a perfectly clean garlic clove! Rinse out the tube, and you’re good to go.

Whoever the genius is who invented this handy (literally), inexpensive tool, my heartfelt thanks. Now, if anyone knows of a good tool for easily peeling and slicing onions that won’t make me cry dry tears, I’m all ears.

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.

Second Skin

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Over the past year, I have been seeing a nurse practitioner at the Wound Center at our local hospital. She is absolutely brilliant, creative, and a great, empathetic listener—as are other members of her team. And she has introduced me to a number of wound care products that have made a significant difference in how I manage my digital ulcers.

Her latest suggestion was to try Cavilon™, a 3M product that creates a breathable barrier film on a wound. It comes in small, individual packets, about the size of a sticky note. It also, I just discovered, comes in a small pump-spray bottle, which is probably more efficient.

In any case, the stuff works. You wipe or spray it on the wound and it quickly dries to a clear, waterproof film, protecting the skin without need for a bandage. And, unlike other liquid skin products that I’ve tried, it does not burn.

For years, I’ve wished for a dressing that I could use at the first sign of an ulcer, to prevent it from getting deeper and more problematic, requiring months of bandaging twice a day. I’ve been experimenting with Cavilon for a few days now, and it seems to fit the bill.

In particular, my skin grafts from hand surgery in 2017 get very delicate in the winter, exacerbated by dry heat. Two of the grafts have cracked over the past month, requiring bandages. But right now, as I type, I just have the Cavilon barrier on them. They don’t hurt, they are not cracking or peeling, and best of all, no bandages!

Cavilon is available online. You can learn more about it here. Please note that it is not recommended for infected wounds. And, no, I am not getting paid for my views. Just want to pass along my experience with a game-changing wound dressing. Be well.

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.