Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

body-mind balance

The Best Medicine

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On Sunday, I got totally out of my comfort zone. I’ve been taking acting classes for several years, now, and over the past sic months, have also joined with some acting friends in an informal group working on scenes. This evolved into reading a play by Selina Fillinger, POTUS: Or, Behind Every Great Dumbass Are Seven Women Trying to Keep Him Alive.

And reading this very funny, raunchy play together led to a decision to do a staged reading of said play, directed by our wonderful teacher, on Sunday in a theater space. I played Stephanie, the President’s personal secretary, who is the comic foil, a role that included running around in a pink rubber ducky inner tube and rapping the introduction to the Declaration of Independence. Yes, you read that correctly.

I have never done anything like this before, and it was a hoot. I got a lot of laughs and had a blast. My acting friends were all terrific, our director was a dream, the audience totally enjoyed it, and we just had fun. Al smiled through the whole play.

There is a lot of stress in this world. There is nothing like joining with great, talented friends to put on a show and making others laugh for a few hours. The best medicine, indeed.

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: Caleb Woods

Dappled

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There’s a word in Japanese for the light that filters through trees:

Transliterated as komorebi (kō-mō-reh-bee), it is made up of the Japanese characters for tree, leaking, and sun—meaning, literally, the sunlight that leaks through trees. Komorebi refers to the ever-shifting way that sunlight filters through tree branches and boughs, creating dancing patterns on the ground and illuminating the backside of leaves. It’s one of my favorite things to discover when I walk outdoors. And I love the fact that there’s a Japanese word to capture that sensation.

So, when Al and I took advantage of perfect summer weather on Sunday, we went to Garden in the Woods, a 45-acre refuge for native plants in Framingham, Mass., and I tried to capture komorebi with my iPhone’s camera, as well as some delicate plants—and, of course, some turtles. It made for a lovely, peaceful afternoon. Here’s what I found. 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.

Back to Reality

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As is always the case when I come back from abroad, it all too soon seems like a distant memory. I am trying to retain the clarity and calm I experienced in Japan. But it’s been a challenging week.

Last Thursday I had my regular pulmonary function tests (PFT) at Boston Medical, then saw both of my pulmonologists—one who manages my interstitial lung disease (ILD) and the other, my type 2 pulmonary hypertension. Usually these visits are routine, but this time, one of the PFT results concerned my ILD specialist.

Over the decades, PFTs have gotten harder. Results confirm a gradual decline in my lung capacity and function, but not to a worrisome degree. But this time, my lungs’ ability to transfer oxygen to my blood through the capillaries in my alveoli (oxygen diffusion) has dipped a bit more. So my specialist wants me to start using a steroid inhaler to arrest any further fibrosis. What made this more startling was that he suspects my Sjogrens Disease, rather than scleroderma, is the culprit. This is consistent with the fact that I’ve had significant issues with dry eyes from Sjogrens that have worsened over this past year.

I left with my head spinning. Steroids in any form, long term, are nothing to mess with. The idea that Sjogrens is now the stealth agent totally surprised me. When I got home, I wrote to my lead rheumatologist, and I hope to discuss all of this with him soon. I had a routine appointment with my local rheumatologist yesterday and reviewed everything. He said if the lung issues are due to Sjogrens instead of scleroderma, then it will be more manageable. Also, apparently, there are some new medications for Sjogrens that are due to be available within a year. So that was also encouraging.

Still, it is a lot to absorb. I’m grateful that my medical team is on top of my situation and helping me to get medication that will enable me to do as well as possible. But I am still processing what it all means.

The only constant in life is change.

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+

Best Vacation Ever

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As a child, I used to watch a public TV program about Japanese brush painting, and I learned how to paint the images that the artist demonstrated. It has been a dream for decades to travel to Japan. And so, for two weeks in June, Al and I made that dream come true. Back home since Thursday night, after a phenomenal trip—strenuous, but worth every minute.

We flew from Boston to Montreal, stayed overnight, then made the 12-hour flight to Tokyo, where we stayed for a couple of nights in a ryokan, a traditional Japanese inn with tatami mats as flooring and a futon bed on the floor. Then it was on to Kyoto by the Shinkansen bullet train. Our accommodation there was a rented home in a family neighborhood, lovingly preserved and decorated. The bedrooms were up a narrow staircase hidden behind a sliding bookcase.

We spent five days in Kyoto, which included a day trip to Nara, the ancient capital of Japan where deer are sacred and roam free. Then we took a Shinkansen to Hiroshima, where we stayed in another traditionally decorated apartment in a residential neighborhood. Our time there included a powerful visit to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, which commemorates the victims of the atomic bomb attack on August 6, 1945. We also took a day trip to the nearby island of Miyajima, home to UNESCO World Heritage temples and shrines. Then we moved on by train and ferry to spend three days on the island of Naoshima, known for its art museums and galleries. On our way back to Tokyo, we caught a glimpse of Mount Fuji.

Yes, it was another of my super-charged itineraries. We saw exquisite gardens, ancient temples and shrines, museums, shops, street life, and navigated the food scene. Google Translate was a huge help, both for speaking with people and translating signs and other text.

I will be thinking about this trip for years to come. It was inspiring, transformative, and, yes, challenged my physical endurance. But I am so, so glad we went, as is Al. Here are some pictures. 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.

Turtle Time

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For my birthday, a friend who knows me well gave me a copy of Sy Montgomery’s wonderful book Of Time and Turtles: Mending the World, Shell by Shattered Shell. I have a thing for turtles and their slow, measured pace through life.

Back when I ran a marketing department for a small college, I used to give my staff little turtle figurines as a reminder to take the time to do the job right, to avoid spending twice the time fixing it. They loved the concept and permission to go slower in a society obsessed with speed.

I can’t say I always follow my own advice, but I have a collection of turtles in my home office to remind me. From Montgomery, I’ve learned more about these prehistoric creatures, how they are gentle (even snappers are much less dangerous than their stereotypes), steadfast, and determined, somehow managing for millennia to beat incredible odds against their survival. Beyond natural predators, our modern world has compounded those risks with cars that speed across turtle nesting pathways, pollution and development that destroys habitats, and climate change that affects the gender of incubating turtle embryos, to name just a few.

Still, in their own plodding way, turtles persist.

Rescue organizations help, as much as they can, and their volunteers are incredibly dedicated. Montgomery takes you into this world of rescuers, in beautiful prose that inspires. In a chapter about her efforts to help release turtle hatchlings back into their native environment, near a busy highway that pregnant turtles must cross to lay their eggs, she writes:

Two kinds of time exist side by side: the frenzied, fleeting, harried time, rushing along like the cars on the interstate, and the eternal, cyclical, renewing time of the seasons. The turtles traverse them both. Following them to the world just outside the highway guardrails, we enter the embrace of the wild, beating heart of nature, escaping for a moment from the trap of transience.

As the pace of our lives urges us to move ever faster, faster, it feels so good to settle down with a wonderful book about turtles, downshift, and breathe. May you have a slow, peaceful, reflective day.

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.