Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

COVID-19

Eleventh Plague

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Last week was a roller coaster ride. It’s always a hectic time, preparing for Passover, what with all the cleaning and switching over our kitchen to our special Passover dishes and cooking, cooking, cooking. But this year, for the first time in three, we had planned to host the first seder on Friday night in person. Like so many families readying for the big holiday weekend, be it Passover, Easter, or the evening meals of Ramadan that coincide this year, we were really looking forward to, at last, celebrating together across a real table, rather than on Zoom.

Al had worked late in the kitchen on Tuesday, getting things ready so I could begin cooking the next morning. But when I came downstairs on Wednesday, he seemed weary and not himself. “Are you okay?” I asked. “I’m just tired,” he said. About an hour later, he was retching in the bathroom. My heart sank. I had recently learned that the Omicron BA.2 variant of Covid often presents with GI symptoms.

I sent him to bed, donned mask and gloves, and gave him a rapid test, which turned up negative. But I also knew that the rapid tests aren’t necessarily accurate in the first few days of symptoms with this variant. So I called our clinic and was able to get us in for PCR tests early that afternoon. They said we’d have results by the next day. I emailed our family that we were in a holding pattern for Friday night.

Al spiked a fever that afternoon and evening, but fortunately, he was fever-free by Thursday morning, not yet hungry, but able to eat a bland diet. I spent the rest of the day food shopping, cleaning, and cooking more food that evening. His condition continued to improve, but no PCR results. I emailed family that things were looking better, and we would confirm plans in the morning. I went to bed dog-tired.

Friday morning, still no PCR results, but Al was back to normal. We decided to green-light the seder, understanding that anyone who felt uneasy about coming should do what was best for them. All had to take rapid tests and have a negative result to attend. Our cousin’s husband, a physician, decided to stay home because he had been fighting a cold, which he told me with “97% certainty” was not Covid, but he went ahead and got a PCR test anyway, at his wife’s insistence. Finally, late morning, our PCR tests came back negative, a huge relief. Our daughters arrived late afternoon, and our other relatives that evening. I finished all my cooking just before everyone came. We had a wonderful seder together, and all felt so good to finally be able to share the meal and all the rituals in person.

Saturday morning, our physician cousin, whose family was hosting the second night, sent us all an email. He had tested positive. Now what? To my surprise, I did not freak out. There was nothing to be done. And I wasn’t going to spend the weekend fretting about the possibility of developing Covid symptoms. We ended up with just the four of us for the second seder. Our eldest returned to Boston that evening, and our younger daughter left for Philly the next morning. None of us have developed any symptoms, nor have our cousins who were exposed at home, who came here. Given that, if you’re infected, you can shed the virus 24-48 hours before becoming symptomatic (and most people do have symptoms), but all appeared to have spent the weekend symptom-free, we are most likely in the clear of a second-hand Covid infection.

A good thing, because Monday was my 68th birthday, and I really didn’t want the gift of Covid! I spent the day writing, which was wonderful.

So goes life in Covid times, which are not really over. Not yet. I hope you and yours enjoyed a lovely weekend, whatever holidays you may or may not celebrate. Stay safe out there.

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.

Re-Boost

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Thursday afternoon, as I awaited my podiatry appointment*, a young woman at the other end of the waiting room began to sneeze and sniffle. She wore a mask—below her nose. When the nurse came to check her temp before her appointment, she asked the young woman how she was feeling. “Fine, thanks,” the young woman replied. Yeah, right, I thought.

Maybe it was just allergies. Or maybe she was in denial. In any case, at least she was not seeing my doc, and she was in an exam room away from the one I was given a few minutes later. I kept my own mask on tight and reassured myself that I was getting my second Covid booster in a few hours.

Omicron BA.2 is way too contagious, and I’ve read far too many accounts of people getting a “mild” case that feels like being run over by a truck, so I jumped on the opportunity when another booster round was approved by the FDA for people 50 and over last week. I was hoping the side effects wouldn’t be too bad.

That proved true Thursday evening. By Friday morning, I just had a sore arm and “Moderna rash” where I got the shot. By midday, I started feeling achy and tired, but I was still able to get some work done. Then I needed to lie down. After a good nap and Tylenol, I began to feel better. By Saturday, I was pretty much back to normal, although the rash will still take a few days to clear. This has been my pattern with each vaccination.

A small price to pay for a better immune response to this clever, cruel virus. I’d much rather have a day or two of side effects than potential lung damage from Covid on top of my already scarred lungs from scleroderma. Given that I can’t control the safety precautions of those around me, I’m grateful that I have this way of taking care of myself and my family.

* As to my troublesome corn, my podiatrist said there was no way, most likely, to keep it from coming back, but after removing it, he ground down a spot on the underside of my foam insole to relieve pressure. So far, so good. I ordered my own version of this tool, which is actually the same as a toenail grinder for pets, so I can adjust my other insoles at home. Just need to put a little chalk on the corn, step barefoot on the insole to mark the spot, and grind a depression on the opposite side.

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: Nick Fewings

Speechless

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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

Virtual Advantage

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As we brace ourselves against the Omicron variant that’s surging across the U.S. and around the globe, all-too-familiar restrictions are going back in place. It’s scary and frustrating and annoying, yes. But if infection rates in other countries hold true here, there’s at least some reason to hope that this latest wave will be short-lived and not as dangerous. Especially if you’re fully vaccinated, which includes a booster.

In the meantime, I’m taking some inspiration from a virtual meeting I attended last week, and I hope you will, too. What’s interesting to me is that the meeting would probably have been less inspiring if it had been held in person, but Covid restrictions required the online format.

Here’s the background: Over the summer, I got involved in some local civic action, coordinating a group of concerned community members to push our fair city to create a commission that would protect our urban forest. Too many street trees have been targeted for removal to accommodate development and infrastructure improvements, when other solutions are available to achieve those goals while saving mature trees. This is an issue I’ve cared about for decades, but had not engaged with for some time. Our urgent climate crisis impelled me to get involved again.

We succeeded in our effort and also helped to re-elect a city counselor who was a key player in the mix. As a result of all this, I decided to apply for a volunteer seat on a related advisory committee that will oversee the city’s recently adopted plan to mitigate climate change. I passed the first hurdle when my letter and resume were approved for further consideration.

The next step was an interview with a citizen’s advisory board that clears applicants for all city commissions and committees. In the Before Times, this would have been conducted in-person, in some kind of public hearing space where each of about 20 applicants for various volunteer roles would have been interviewed one at a time, semi-privately. But due to Covid, we were all online, in our little Brady-Bunch-boxes, along with the board members, interviewing in front of everyone.

I was #15 on the agenda and a bit nervous.

As the meeting proceeded, however, it soon became apparent that I was in the company of some really remarkable souls. Each one of us wanted to help the city do better. Each wanted to contribute their expertise and passion to a particular volunteer responsibility.

Three of the candidates had immigrated here years ago—one from Ghana, one from Vietnam, and one from Libya—and all wanted to give back to the city (zoning board, elder affairs commission, board of health) that had taken them in and enabled them to flourish. Three others applying for the same committee as I was had outstanding professional credentials related to environmental engineering and energy conservation. I chose to emphasize my communications skills along with my knowledge of the city’s urban forest.

One young man who was an amateur boxer and had grown up in local youth clubs wanted to help others gain the support and affirmations that had meant so much to him by serving on a commission devoted to inclusion and diversity. Another was an attorney who had recently moved to the city and wanted to help with human rights issues that included, most recently, the use of police body cameras. And that’s just about half the people at the virtual meeting.

If Covid hadn’t forced us to attend online, I never would have heard all those wonderful stories. It made me feel really great to know that these people exist. Best antidote ever for all the dark news these days.

And, yes, I made the cut. Final step is an interview with the City Manager’s staff. Even if I don’t get picked, I know that some caring and talented people will be selected. That’s all that really matters.

Here’s hoping 2022 brings more light to us all. Best wishes for a healthy, uplifting New Year.

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: Harrison Steen

Testing, Testing, 1-2-3

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Over the past 20 months, I’ve had plenty of Covid tests. Mostly, I’ve been tested to meet requirements for certain diagnostics, such as a pulmonary function test, or to comply with protocols for my eye appointments at the local optometry college. I’ve also been tested when we’ve had a few Covid scares at home. All have been negative, thank goodness, and all have been PCR tests that take about 24 hours for results.

This weekend, however, for the first time, I conducted my own rapid Covid test, prior to attending a dinner party with friends, as an agreed-upon safety measure. I was able to snag a couple of boxes of BinexNOW Covid test kits ($14 apiece), which contain two tests each, a few weeks ago. Now the tests are out of stock at most places, including Walmart online, which is how I found mine, thanks to a tip from a friend. Hopefully the supply shortage will ease soon. Our city received nearly 70,000 free test kits last week from the federal and state governments, but those are being distributed (appropriately) to those most at risk. So, I’m glad I planned ahead.

The process was interesting. There’s a nose swab, a dropper of special solution, and a card that serves as the test medium. First you wash or sanitize your hands. Then you open the card, check to see that the light blue control line is visible, and place it on a table. I assume it has to be on a level surface. Next, you open the little solution tube and add six, count ’em, six drops to the larger of two holes in the card. And, warns the directions, don’t touch the dropper to the card! This step proved a bit trickier than I expected, mainly because it’s hard for me to squeeze little plastic droppers. But I managed.

The next step is to swab your nose, making at least five circles inside each nostril, lasting at least 15 second on each side. Now, I’ve had my nose swabbed plenty of times, and it never bothers me. However, there is some kind of solution on the swab that really tickled. I had to clench my teeth so I could tolerate it.

Finally, you insert the swab into the card via that large hole until it bumps up against the edge of a second, smaller hole, and turn it five times (if memory serves me correctly). You unpeel the adhesive strip on the card’s edge and close it over the swab, so the whole contraption looks like a giant lollipop. Then you wait 15 minutes to read the results in the little window on the front of the card. If only the top purple line appears, you’re negative. But if you see a second purple line, then you’re positive. It reminded me a bit of waiting on a home pregnancy test.

I set my watch for 16 minutes, just to be sure. Lo and behold, only one purple line. Hurray! Not that I expected a negative result, although it was quite reassuring.

As Omicron spreads exponentially, I’m expecting this to become routine. And even with three Moderna jabs and plenty of precautions, I would not be surprised if I still test positive at some point, given how contageous this new variant is. Hopefully not, but if I do, hopefully a mild case. The reality is that with all the masking, I haven’t caught a cold or other virus that I know of since all this began (knock on wood). At some point, Covid will evolve into an annual endemic like the flu. That cannot happen too soon.

Meanwhile, we’re profoundly fortunate to live in a country that provides vaccines, with new antiviral pills a few months away. This wave is certainly serious, and many will suffer who have chosen not to be vaccinated, not to mention all the health care professionals who are exhausted from protecting us. But a year ago, before the vaccines, this was so much worse. We know more, we have some powerful medical options, and masking works.

Stay safe out there.

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.