Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

mindfulness

The Scam I Almost Fell For

· · 2 Comments

Bad actors are everywhere these days. Last week, I finally was able, with some tech support, to reinstall my computer virus scanner, run a sweep, and reassure myself that I did not download a virus a few weeks ago when I accidentally opened one of those fake alert screens that scream at you that you absolutely must save your computer by calling or clicking their blinking red link. (I immediately turned off my computer).

This weekend, the scammer came by phone. I saw a call from my credit card company on my cellphone and answered it. A man’s voice inquired if I had recently made a $1,300 charge on Amazon, which I had not. It was supposedly made by someone in Dallas. He needed me to confirm my full credit card number (he listed the first six digits) to cancel the charge and give the last four digits of my Social Security number.

As I was getting my card from my wallet, a little voice in my head piped up. Why would he need my credit card number, let alone part of my SSN? I’ve dealt with my credit card company’s fraud unit before, and they don’t work this way. Also, on the few occasions when there has been a fraudulent charge on my account, they first contact me by text, and all it takes is a confirmation of the error to deny it. Plus, when I have had to call them to cancel a lost card, there is always noise in the background, as if the person works in an open office space. No background voices on this call. Then there was the phone number I was speaking to, a Boston area code, rather than an 800 number.

So, I asked the guy on the phone, “How do I know you work for [my credit card company]?” He got irritated, then downright mad. He claimed that the person in Dallas had actually used my cell phone number to call and try to get the charge approved. This made absolutely no sense. He said if I didn’t act now to give him what he requested to cancel the charge, I’d have to wait until Monday to reverse it. This also made no sense, since my credit card company’s fraud unit is available 24/7. I told him I would not give my credit card number over the phone and was going to end the call. His ultimate retort? “I’m going to hang up in your face!”

So, there!

After this weird exchange, I blocked the number on my phone and checked my credit card transactions online to see if there was any pending $1,300 charge. There was not. Then I called the company’s fraud unit to double-check, to let them know about the scammer, and to give them the phone number that had shown up on my cellphone. The woman I spoke with was professional, polite, and appreciative. And there were other folks in the background.

Why didn’t I hang up right away? I had been trying to take a nap when my phone rang and was not all there. The caller ID said the name of my credit card company. And he did suck me in with his claim about the $1,300 charge. Thank goodness I woke up enough to realize what was going on.

So, once again, I share this adventure as a public service. Bad actors are everywhere these days. Be prepared.

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: Gratisography

Delayed Reaction

· · 4 Comments

A week ago Friday, I checked an item off my health care to-do list when I got my pneumonia vaccination. For older adults, mine was Pfizer’s Prevnar 20, which stands for Pneumococcal 20-valent conjugate vaccine, in case you’re wondering. Basically, it covers a slew of bacterial strains, and as of current practice standards, I won’t need another pneumonia vax, ever.

It barely hurt, and I only had minor aches in my left shoulder for maybe 48 hours. No big deal.

Meanwhile, I’m still nursing nasty multiple ulcers in my left ring finger that have cost me a nail and considerable discomfort for at least six weeks, now, even as it slowly heals.

Thursday evening, after my shower, I noticed an odd, blotchy rash on my upper left arm. At first, I thought it could be hives, which I occasionally get from taking a shower. But the rash did not clear. In fact, it seemed to be spreading a bit.

Now, I have a history of cellulitis when I get infections in digital ulcers. Haven’t had an episode in quite a while, but this was my immediate concern. If you’ve ever dealt with this kind of superficial skin infection, then you know that it can get very dangerous if left unattended, with the potential, if it gets into the bloodstream, of causing sepsis.

Typically, when I’ve developed cellulitis, it spreads in a thick, red line from the ulcer up my forearm. I once had the experience of watching it spread at a rate of about an inch an hour. That landed me at the infusion clinic of my hospital, getting IV antibiotics.

So, even as this rash was in no way connected to my ulcer, I was still worried—indeed, worried enough to have trouble falling asleep, and rising to check if it was spreading several times. That is, until about 2:30 in the morning. I had traced the outline with an eyeliner pencil about an hour earlier and the rash hadn’t really moved. So I took a minocycline pill, which I always have on hand, and convinced myself to get some sleep. No way I was going to the ER to deal with it unless it seemed aggressive.

When I woke up Friday morning, there was no change in size, though the rash had filled in and was definitely warm. It suddenly occurred to me that this might be a reaction to the pneumonia vaccine. During Covid, I had twice developed a rash in my injected arm from the Moderna vax, though never from Pfizer. But this was a totally different shot. Sure enough, I found a few research articles online about delayed reactions to the Prevnar shots, though it’s quite rare (of course—I always get rare complications).

At 8:00 I called our geriatric practice and explained my concern, that I needed someone to determine if it was cellulitis or the vax reaction. I was prepared to spend half a day at Urgent Care, if necessary. So, here’s why I love our geriatric providers: they make house calls. And, it turns out, that even as our NP was not available, they could send a mobile urgent care team to our home. Which they did.

The team was great, and they confirmed my second hypothesis, that I was reacting to the shot, even as the rash was several inches below the injection site. The solution? Zyrtec. Which I started that day, and the rash is subsiding.

To say I’m grateful is an understatement. Fortunately, after four-plus decades of living with scleroderma, I know enough to know what to watch out for and how to get help. And I’m lucky to live where excellent help is available, right in my own home.

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: Louis Reed

A Break from the News

· · 8 Comments

This weekend, my dear husband persuaded me to get out of the house on a bitter cold Sunday afternoon for a visit to our art museum’s wonderful annual Flora in Winter exhibit. It’s always fun to see how area florists interpret artworks, and given the flood of horrid headlines here in the U.S. of late, the exhibit was all the more refreshing. Seeking out beauty is essential these days, to remind myself what matters.

Here are some of my favorites. 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.

Inner Artist

· · 4 Comments

When I was growing up, my favorite thing to do in the whole world was drawing. Give me a pencil and a pad of paper, and I was in heaven. One year for my birthday, my parents gave me a drawing kit by Jon Gnagy, whose popular 1960’s Learn to Draw show was must-see TV for me. Along with an instructional book that taught you to analyze objects in terms of spheres, cones, and pyramids, the box contained drawing pencils and paper, a soft eraser, a blending stick, and charcoal. I spent hours in my room, sitting on the floor, working through all the exercises.

As I got older, my favorite drawing medium became pen and ink. But sepia conté crayons, colored pencils, and pastels were also high on the list. Every summer, I would bring a drawing pad and implements on our family vacations to Cape Cod and sketch at the beach. I took summer art classes as a preteen and a drawing class in college, watercolor and drawing classes in my twenties, and since then, occasional classes at our wonderful art museum. For our young daughters, I would draw illustrations and, in a reprise of childhood, would bring my pencils and paper to the beach for our Block Island vacations.

In recent years, however, I have hardly drawn at all. Some of it has to do with damage to my hands from scleroderma. In fact, that’s probably the main reason. Not that I can’t still draw, but when I have a lot of ulcers, it’s just harder to hold a pencil for any length of time. Or so I tell myself. I use triangular rubber grips on my drawing pencils to ease the pressure, and that definitely helps. But something has been holding me back—most likely, just reluctance to push my hands too far.

Even so, I’ve had a New Year’s resolution for more than a year to get back to drawing, which I managed to do only twice in 2024. Each time, once sketching my African violet, and once on Block Island last June sketching Al at the beach, gave me great pleasure. But I still kept putting it off.

On Sunday, I decided to try again—this despite having five bandaged fingers right now. I needed to do something joyful and rejuvenating after a week of such dark news. I pulled out my colored pencils and my mostly empty drawing notebook, set up a vase of roses on a low stool, so I could look down into the blossoms, and drew. It was wonderful. I sank right back into that peaceful, meditative space of observation and interpretation. No matter the ulcers, I could still control the pencils as well as ever. When I finished, I felt relaxed and happy and in tune with my inner, non-verbal artist.

She’s been clamoring for attention. She deserves more.

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.

Inflection Point

· · Leave a Comment

Monday dawned bright and bitter, with a sparkling five inches of snow weighing down evergreen boughs. As I write, I’m wrapped in my warmest long sweater coat, grateful to be inside, even as I enjoy the view. My appetite is back after last week’s close encounter with a norovirus, for which I am also grateful.

I am writing this on Monday afternoon, glimpsing a flash of a red cardinal in the yews beyond my window, because I have chosen not to watch the inauguration of our 47th president. I have never missed a presidential inauguration until today. I am refusing to watch, because I need to set boundaries for my emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being. In the weeks leading up to today, I have struggled to stay calm.

Our nation is at an inflection point. Democracy is at serious risk. Political power is for sale, and fear is the powerful’s cudgel.

How to stay sane and healthy—and be a responsible citizen in our country’s time of need? I have a few priorities, at the outset:

Stay informed by reliable, independent, accurate news sources. My new favorite is The Contrarian, which was launched last week by former Washington Post columnist Jennifer Rubin and ethics attorney Norm Eisen. Their commentary on the inauguration was priceless—sharp, insightful, and funny, which is a great salve.

Limit consumption of the above so that it doesn’t consume all of my attention. Not yet sure what the right balance is. This is a work in process. My blood pressure will be my guide.

Call my Senators and Congressional Representative to express my concerns. Here in Massachusetts, I’m fortunate to be represented by ethical politicians with a lot of experience, who share my values. But I’m also trying to encourage friends and family elsewhere to do the same. You can find your Congresspeople here. Our voices matter, especially collectively.

Invest my energy locally, to improve my community. For several years I have been involved in efforts to preserve and grow our city’s urban forest and strengthen our ability to withstand climate change. This volunteer work is very rewarding and has literally been saving my sanity. And the trees we plant will outlast whatever happens in Washington.

Write. I continue to work on Novel 2 and seek a home for Novel 1. My art is my way to understand my world. It is an outlet for angst and a refuge. It is both the most difficult work and the most essential.

This journey is not the one I expected to be traveling at this point in my 70 years on the planet. But here we are. The only thing that is certain is the present moment. And the only thing we can control is how we choose to respond.

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.