Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

how to stay warm

Oscillations

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It’s that time of year here in New England when the temperatures ripple like a sine wave. One day it’s in the 40s, then we slide into the 30s and even the 20s, then up to the 50s. As I write this afternoon on President’s Day, it’s a relatively balmy 54°F. Later this week we’re expecting snow showers, and the weekend promises to be frigid.

Al is more sanguine about this than I am. “It’s winter,” he says, with a shrug.

So I layer up my sweaters and shed them as warranted. My fingers are cracking, like a sidewalk that shrinks and expands with winter’s thaw. I’m using up more bandages, as I always do this time of year.

The transition to spring is always the toughest on my digital ulcers, harder than in the coldest months, when the cold is more constant. At least, it used to be. With climate change comes more temperature ups and downs. A geographer friend once told me that our weather here in Massachusetts will become more like Virginia’s, and Maine’s will become more like ours used to be. His prediction seems prescient. So far, we’ve only had one short stretch of Arctic temps this season and hardly any snow.

I am profoundly concerned about the implications of a warming planet and am devoting volunteer hours to my city, helping to mitigate the effects of climate change locally. But, I must admit, my hands don’t mind. It’s selfish of me, but these milder winters are just easier to manage, without our having to move south. The transition to spring and summer will always be a challenge, because it’s the relative temperature change that plagues my ulcers. But shorter spurts of bitter cold? Less snow and ice? I’ll take it.

Life is a series of adjustments. Some we can predict. Others, we can’t. The older I get, the more I realize that staying nimble in the face of all that we can’t control is crucial to resilience.

And so, with just one more week of February ahead, as daylight grows notably longer and the switch to Daylight Savings Time looms on the horizon, I will continue to layer up and shed and layer up again, tend my fingers, and make sure I have a full inventory of bandages and other dressings. I can’t change the weather, but I can surf the sine waves.

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: Pittigrilli

Cold Snap

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Seems like we’re stuck in an Arctic weather pattern here in New England. After a couple of mild winters, this January feels like the real thing. Which is not to say that global warming isn’t happening. Global weather patterns are shifting in unpredictable ways, and this winter is just part of the mix.

I find it challenging, to say the least. Even at home, with the heat on, I am in multiple layers. My ultra-warm alpaca sweater jacket that I made in December turns out to be one of the best things I’ve ever sewn. Good timing.

With single-digit windchill, I’ve had to keep indoors more. But on Monday afternoon, when the temperature hit 30°F, I pushed myself out the door in all my winter gear and took my 25 minute walk around the neighborhood. Even without any wind to speak of, my eyes were cold. Nonetheless, I was glad I did it. Walking really clears my head. I sleep better. The air smelled clean and crisp. A few birds were singing (aren’t they cold, too?). And the ice-crusted snow glowed in late afternoon sunlight.

Best of all, in late January, I realized that the sun was not quite as low on the horizon at 3 o’clock. Indeed, it’s still a bit light now at 5 o’clock. Whatever weather and climate disruptions we must face and strive to mitigate, at least there is this one constant. Our precious planet spins on its annual trip around our sun, and the days grow longer, once again.

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.

Little Victories

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No doubt. It’s winter here in New England. Over the weekend, we got about a half-foot of snow, plus some icy rain. Our bird feeder’s squirrel-blocker, a plastic hood that hangs above the feeder, looked like a snow hat. And it’s cold, hovering in the ’20s F. Today we plunge into single digits.

Despite the bitter weather, which I find rather intimidating, I forced myself out the door twice in the past few days. My first jaunt around the neighborhood, on Saturday afternoon, was my first venture out of the house since before Christmas, because of that darn respiratory, non-Covid virus that dogged me for a good 10 days. It felt so good to breathe fresh air. And I finally have my voice back.

Monday afternoon, I ventured out again, along my half-hour route. I was bundled up in my warmest, full-length down coat, lined boots, scarf, wool cap, aviator hat over that, and mittens. I looked ridiculous. But I really don’t care. It’s a priority to get out and walk whenever I am able, to clear my brain, stretch my legs and back, move my joints, and exercise my heart. I definitely feel better when I get home.

I also feel just a little bit invincible. (Yes, I know, that’s an oxymoron.) If I can get out and walk a half-hour in freezing temps, then I’ve overcome my Raynaud’s and scleroderma for another day. And that, Dear Reader, simply feels great.

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.

Sew On and Sew Forth

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Finding truly warm, affordable clothes with some style is not all that easy. Ever on the lookout, I find that too many offerings that look warm are actually made with synthetic fibers, like polyester, acrylic, or nylon, which don’t really keep you warm and can trap perspiration, making you colder. But good wool garments are expensive.

So, I decided my best alternative was to sew myself a sweater jacket for winter. A few months ago, I found an easy pattern and some cranberry-red alpaca knit fabric on sale online. Next step was to get the fabric dry-cleaned, to preshrink it (this prompted the dry cleaner to request my signed understanding that the fabric might ravel in the process—which didn’t happen).

But then the fabric, now ensconced in a plastic dry cleaner bag, lay folded in my office. For weeks. The problem was two-fold: I didn’t have time/couldn’t make time to work on the project due to holidays et al., and, more importantly, I have been wrestling with some very sensitive ulcers on both thumbs and my right ring finger. No way to cut out the pattern, figure out any adjustments, cut the fabric, and sew it up when I really couldn’t handle scissors or pins.

That is, until this past Sunday, when my hands had finally progressed enough, Thanksgiving and Hanukkah celebrations were past, and I decided to just get down to it. Cutting the fabric was still hard, despite using spring-loaded shears, but I made a lot of progress, especially because I could use my serger, which sews, trims, and finishes seams all in one step (but you really have to pay attention, because seams can’t be resewn easily!). Wool is also very forgiving, with any wobbles in the seams (due to weaker hand control) easily steamed and straightened. Still another sewing session needed to finish it, but I’m pretty pleased (ever the perfectionist) with the outcome.

And, it’s delightfully warm.

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.

Swelter Skelter

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It takes a lot for me to sweat. I rarely get that overheated, since my body revels in warm weather, even hot. But humidity is another matter altogether.

July 4th weekend here in Central Massachusetts, the air was thick. The sweat was literally pouring down my face. That sensation is so rare for me, I was surprised. I had an annoying cough, too, so I wondered if that had something to do with it. Was it the air quality or a cold that was irritating my lungs? Why was I sweating so much?

The TV meteorologist had a simple answer: The humidity was so bad, it was “disgusting.” Agreed.

Disgusting enough for me to turn on our heat pumps, which double as dehumidifiers and A/C when it gets really bad. I hate A/C, because it inevitably makes my extremities numb, and avoid it at all costs, but I was perspiring so much that I finally caved. After a few hours, the house was bearable. By Saturday evening, thunderstorms had rolled through and taken care of the rest. Sunday, the weather was a blessing, and we opened the windows again.

On Monday, as I write, I’m back to my usual summer gear, a sweater over light clothes. I can sit at my computer and regulate the temperature in my home office to my precise needs. Outside, it’s in the high ’70s, sunny and dry. No need for anything but window screens and fresh air.

Now there’s mounting evidence that some of my aversion to air conditioning has nothing to do with scleroderma and Raynaud’s, and everything to do with gender.

According to a recent study, researchers at the University of Southern California and the WZB Berlin Social Science Center found that women perform better on verbal and math skills tests as the temperature rises. Women college students in Berlin improved test scores by 1.76 percent for every Celsius degree increase. And when indoor temperatures were raised from the 60s to 70s (Fahrenheit), their math test scores increased by 15 percent.

Any woman who has struggled to function in a frigid office space during the summer, wrapped in heavy sweaters or even winter coats, with a space heater under her desk, because the A/C is cranked to near refrigerator temperatures, recognizes the truth in this finding. (If this sounds all too familiar, feel free to cite this study to the Powers That Be. Here’s the full report.) I used to suffer in an office like that, and one of the great joys of working for myself is that I no longer have to put up with such energy-sucking practices.

So, I’m grateful to have an option when the humidity and heat overwhelm even me. But I’m also glad that I’m the one who gets to regulate the thermostat.

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: Vitor Pinto