Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

body-mind balance

And Now for Something Completely Different

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When I am not writing about living with scleroderma or helping my clients with marketing and communications strategy, I pursue my own writing. Fiction, that is—historical fiction, in particular.

Back in 2014, I began working on a novel set in World War I about a mother whose estranged daughter runs off with her beau to drive ambulances for the French war effort, and the mother’s journey to bring her back home. It took seven years to research and write, and it’s taken another four-and-a-half years of searching for a literary agent and/or publisher. But persistence finally paid off, and I’m thrilled to share that my debut novel, Line of Flight, will be published by Köehler Books this December.

I write about the process of creating historical fiction on my Substack, History Making, and you can read a bit more about how this all came about here.

You’ll also find a bunch of essays there about how I researched the novel, as well as the novel I’m working on now regarding art and censorship in Weimar Germany.

As I’ve written here before, we are all much, much more than our diagnoses. In my heart of hearts, I’m an artist. Words are my medium. I’ll be sure to post here when the book is ready for pre-order, for anyone who’d like to read about something other than living with scleroderma. Thanks.

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: Getty Images for Unsplash

Fast Forward

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Daylight Savings Time crept up on me this past weekend. Really, is it already time to set the clocks forward an hour? I find this adjustment jarring. I’d rather just let the sun tell me what time it is.

According to Harvard Health, we’d all be better off sticking to standard time. But DST has been a national law since 1966, and attempts to do away with it have consistently failed to pass Congress. Given all the insanity in Washington these days, no chance of this becoming a priority.

So, I dutifully set all our clocks ahead Saturday evening. I even went to bed an hour early, since I was pretty tired. It felt later. I should wake up fully rested, right?

Good plan. Didn’t work.

First mistake was reading a very good play after I turned off the TV. It only took me an hour, but that was the hour I thought I’d saved. Then I tried setting up my iPhone for a meditation to help me doze off, but at that moment, my phone decided it was time to update its operating system and shut down to load the software.

When that finally finished, I was too annoyed to relax. Eventually I settled down, then picked a sleepcast story that was far too interesting, all about traveling in Japan. At some point I dozed off, but then woke again to shift positions. Aargh!

By the time I finally was ready to sleep, it was at least 1:30 a.m., actually 2:30 DST. Reset my alarm for 9:00 a.m., which was 8:00 a.m. in my circadian cycle still tuned to EST. I got maybe five hours of deep sleep and gave up about 10 minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

Somehow, I still got through the day. As I write this on Sunday evening, though, I am ready to pack it in. Hopefully, my body will reset over the next couple of days. Check out that Harvard Health link, above, for some ways to ease the transition.

Sleep well, Dear Reader. Sleep 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.

Image: Eric Hoarau

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

White Out

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As I write on Monday afternoon, all is white outside, once again. We are in the midst of a blizzard that has slowed down our corner of the world. Maybe a foot-and-a-half of snow when this is over later today, maybe a little less, maybe a little more—on top of all the snow that hasn’t yet melted from last month’s storm. Al has shoveled half our drive, so far, and is taking a well-deserved break. Thankfully, we still have power and heat.

All appointments and my acting class cancelled, once again. But we’ll catch up, eventually.

Big storms are humbling. And disorienting. Is it Monday? Or still Sunday? Does it matter?

Outside, the birds and squirrels know how to cope without worrying about what day it is or what comes next. I’m trying to take my cue from them.

Stay safe out there, all.

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.

Try, Try Again

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Every morning, I try to spend a few minutes meditating. I use an app, which is helpful and instructive. My mind wanders as minds do, but I am, over time, getting more adept at slowing down and focusing on my breath.

This came in very handy on Monday, when I found myself back in my dentist’s chair, because my new crown for my fifth implant came loose last week. No so loose that it popped out, but loose enough that it needed immediate attention. Of course, this all happened on New Year’s Eve, when no one could see me for several days. (Why do these kinds of issues always happen on a Friday evening or right before a long holiday weekend?)

In any case, it took two hours of poking and prodding by my long-time dentist, Dr. K, plus several tries to remove the crown and adjust its size so it would fit properly by his partner, Dr. F (she of the smaller fingers and more delicate touch). Ultimately, that did not work. I had been concerned from the get-go a few weeks ago that the crown was too big, and apparently my instinct was correct, because it never seated properly, which is why it loosened up.

So, now I have to return in a few weeks to redo the dental impressions, and then they will order me a new crown. Why didn’t this one fit—a problem I’ve never encountered before, thankfully? It was very hard to take the digital scans, because of my tight mouth, so that might have been the culprit. (For the repeat, we’ll do it the old fashioned way.) Or, as Dr. K surmised, the manufacturer that he’s worked with for years has changed personnel, and his trusted contact who always did things perfectly is no longer there.

In any case, at least there is a solution that I don’t have to pay more for, and the implant itself (what the crown is screwed into) is still solidly in place (my biggest concern). Everyone thanked me for my patience. I was grateful that I could breathe my way through it.

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: Filip Mishevski