Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

managing chronic disease

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

Candy Heart Wish

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It’s Valentine’s Day, and we could all use a bit more love in this world. While I can’t send you a box of chocolates or a rose bouquet, Dear Reader, if I had my own little candy conversation hearts to share, here is the one message I’d print on them:

BE WELL

Easier said than done, certainly. But it’s a phrase that I’ve been thinking about a lot, especially since the pandemic. I use it to sign most of my email correspondence these days, business and personal.

Being well is more than just a physical state. We don’t necessarily have control over what our bodies do, especially with a disease as complicated as scleroderma and all its associated ailments. Assuming access to good medical care, however (and that’s a big assumption, given health care consolidation and the health insurance mess in the U.S.), it is possible to get treatments and medical support to ease the disease process. It requires recognizing and understanding your personal situation, learning what help is available and whom to trust, being a strong self-advocate, and following through on treatments and protocols.

There is a lot to learn about scleroderma, and a lot to process. My resources page links to leaders in scleroderma research and education, to help you. But the self-advocacy piece is, for me, the most important aspect of dealing with this disease for the past 40 years. I’ve learned to push my doctors for information and explanations, and to share my fears, as well. I’ve also learned to challenge treatment recommendations that don’t make sense, and how to find research that I’ve shared with my medical team to move in a more logical direction. And I make sure that I get all my questions answered in every appointment, regardless of how long it takes. I’m grateful that my medical team respects me for it, as much as I respect them.

In this sense, to BE WELL means that you are not your diagnosis. You are a complex individual with a complicated disease that requires you to stand up for yourself and what you need to remain as healthy, active, and involved in life as you are able. Wellness is as much a state of mind as a physical state. If there is one message that I hope this blog conveys to anyone with scleroderma, newly diagnosed or a veteran like me, it’s about living, not the diagnostic label.

So, happy Valentine’s Day to all. 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.

Image: Laura Briedis

Soup’s On!

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This past weekend here in New England was bitter cold. As in negative teens, even before the windchill factor. Not my kind of weather, not by a long shot. Fortunately, it passed quickly. But winter, regardless of an unwelcome Arctic vortex, is time for soup in our home. So, Dear Reader, here are two wonderful soup recipes I recently discovered from New York Times Cooking, as well as a delicious bean stew:

Golden Leek and Potato Soup by Melissa Clark
The best recipe with leeks and potatoes that I have ever found. I left out the heavy cream, because I don’t do lactose, but it’s fine and rich without.

Roasted Carrot, Parsnip and Potato Soup by Martha Rose Shulman
Recipe calls for a blender, but I just pureed it in my old Cuisinart, and it worked fine. Easy to make.

Rosemary White Beans with Frizzled Onions and Tomato by Melissa Clark
I never knew that onions sauteed until they caramelize are “frizzled,” but whatever you call them, they are yummy! This is also an easy recipe and just so, so good, especially on a cold winter day.

Bon appetite, and if you have links to favorite soup recipes (especially vegetarian) to share, please do!

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:  Dexter McQueen

Snake Eyes

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This is not a novel observation, but getting prescriptions filled for a reasonable cost in the U.S. is a crap shoot.

I just spent an hour on the phone with my Medicare Part D insurance company, trying to get prior authorization for a medication I need to refill every other month, but which is not covered by my plan. This, after first calling my pharmacy to find out why they kept sending me messages about an “insurance issue” with the prescription and then being told that they had not yet submitted the scrip and would only know details when it was filled. Now, none of that made sense, because in my app for the pharmacy, I could see the price—nearly $700.

But I need to back up. Because I have for the past several years very successfully been able to fill this scrip and one other very expensive medication via a Canadian online pharmacy in British Columbia. Great service, much more reasonable pricing. That is, however, until last month, when I received a letter from the FDA informing me that my other very expensive medication refill had been impounded at the Port of Los Angeles after being flagged by U.S. Customs.

The reason? Since this medication was available in the U.S., but it was coming from Canada, its authenticity could not be confirmed. To “protect” me from consumer fraud, the FDA was going to destroy it. I wrote to the official who sent the letter, trying to get an exemption, but no luck. And this particular medication would cost in the four figures if filled by my approved local pharmacy.

What to do? Thankfully, my team at Boston Medical suggested an alternative: Marc Cuban Cost Plus Drugs. This is a legitimate, licensed drug wholesaler that fills prescriptions at cost plus a 15 percent markup. And fortunately, they carry my very expensive medication. Here’s the kicker: the price from Canada was $200 for a refill; with Marc Cuban, $10! It arrived within a week and it works just fine, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, they do not as yet carry my other expensive medication, the one for which I await prior authorization. Even with insurance, I’m expected it to be pricey. Maybe there is an alternative, to be discussed with my medical provider, given that we have to wait until 2025 for the new $2,000 cap on Medicare drug out-of-pocket expenses to go into effect. Which assumes that this important provision of the new Inflation Reduction Act doesn’t get killed before then, given all the craziness in Washington.

The system is just so convoluted. And clearly, from the wholesale price for my very expensive medication, Big Pharma is just making a killing. (No news there.) Plus, who really has time or patience to dig for all the information needed to pursue prior authorization? I’m fortunate that I can take care of this for myself, that I own my own schedule at this point in my life, and we can afford the medications we need. Not so for too many others.

And so, after the hour on the phone with the prior authorization department at my Part D insurer, writing an email to my provider to let her know about the form they faxxed, and getting a voice mail from my Part D insurance telling my original request to fill the scrip was turned down (yes, I figured that out already), it’s a waiting game. Fingers crossed . . .

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 Clode

Open Wide

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It’s not easy to open my mouth all the way. Even as the stiffening of the skin on my face has eased significantly over the past 40 years (indeed, I have plenty of wrinkles to prove it), I cannot open wide at visits to the dentist or the doctor. My dentist and hygienist and periodontist are all well-versed in managing the complications of working on my teeth. Still, those visits are never easy.

But there’s another aspect to this issue that’s less obvious. And that involves food. In particular, food in restaurants. Most particularly, any kind of fancy sandwich.

Portions are so overdone in most eateries that a panini or vegiburger can be three inches thick or more. And I simply cannot open wide enough to eat it without making a huge mess. (Holding it in my hands is another matter—as in trying not to get sauce or condiments on my bandages, which can infect my ulcers.)

My compromise, on those occasions when I’m hungering for something hearty in sandwich form, is to eat it with a knife and fork. Which works, for the most part, but it’s not the same as tasting all the ingredients together. And manipulating those utensils through thick breads with my hands is no picnic, either.

One trick I’ve learned: It’s easier to eat a sandwich cut on the diagonal than as two rectangles. That way, I can take smaller bites to start and work my way to the center.

But probably the best solution to the restaurant sandwich dilemma: a good, old-fashioned grilled-cheese-and-tomato sandwich. On our trip in December to the Connecticut shore, I had the pleasure of rediscovering this favorite from childhood. Not too thick, not too sloppy (if I wrap it in a napkin as I eat), and so satisfying.

Have any of you with this same scleroderma issue found other good options? Please share!

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: Lefteris kallergis