Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

resilience

Tag, I’m It

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And so, despite my best efforts, I caught the flu, too. I thought I was being really careful taking care of Al, who quarantined in our home. Wore a mask, brought him meals, the whole bit. He came down with it last Sunday. By mid-week, I was still doing fine, even went to Pilates on Thursday. But then my throat started feeling irritated and I had a dry cough. Did grocery shopping, just in case.

By Friday I was dragging, but my Covid/flu test was negative, so I thought maybe it was just the onset of laryngitis, which I typically get twice a year, for whatever reason. By Saturday morning, I was coughing more, had a mild fever, and just felt crummy. Sure enough, the test came back positive for Type A flu, same as Al had, which is highly contagious. Apparently it can take up to four days after exposure to catch it. And that’s what happened to me.

So, I called our geriatrics practice and spoke at length to the triage nurse. Al had been on Tamaflu, an antiviral medication, which really helped him get better, with no side effects. But Tamaflu can mess up your gut, and I was already having some GI problems. Was it really worth it to take the antiviral? Fortunately, she recommended having a virtual urgent care visit with a physician on call. I was able to set up an appointment within the hour.

The doc was very personable and thorough (and his little daughter, who was home instead of at dance class because of yet more snow here, was adorable). He had read my chart and said it would be best to take the Tamaflu, given my history of interstitial lung disease with my scleroderma. Even if my GI symptoms got worse, it would be to my advantage to avoid serious respiratory complications. So, I followed his advice.

Al was well enough by Saturday to be able to clear the four inches of fluffy snow off the driveway and pick up my prescription. As I write, I’m on Day 3 of 5 with the Tamaflu, and I can report that my coughing has eased, my energy is slowly returning, and I can sit up and do some work instead of being bored out of my mind. However, my gut has remained irritated, though I’m not running to the bathroom as often. So, hopefully by mid-week this will all be just an annoying memory.

I must add that this happened despite getting a flu vaccination last fall. I’m sure it helped limit the worst of the virus, but this has still been no picnic. (All the more reason to get the vax if you haven’t already.) The fatigue is real, and I’ve coughed so much that my ribs are sore. I am very grateful for the excellent virtual medical care. It made a huge difference in my treatment and confidence level. And I was really glad to not need to venture out into the very bitter cold to be seen.

I hope you, too, Dear Reader, have access to similar good support. 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.

Storm Watch

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As of midday Monday, as I write, we are immersed in white. Al shoveled a foot-and-a-half of snow for two hours this morning, then fell asleep in his armchair for a while. At some point this afternoon he’ll go back outside and finish clearing our drive. We’re expecting up to another three inches by nightfall.

I’m glad he took a break. The snow is fluffy, but even so, it’s a lot of work. I wish I could help, but between the extreme cold and my hands, there is no way for me to do so. Indeed, it’s been decades since I could shovel snow. The last time I can recall, we still lived in our prior home on a major street, and as I was trying to clear the foot of the drive, a plow went by and blocked it up again. The guys in the plow laughed.

Today, Al told me, the plow that was doing another pass on our street actually stopped and helped to clear the end of our drive as well as our neighbor’s across the street.

Looking out for each other is essential in a storm, all the more so today when the storm is not just weather-driven. To the people of Minneapolis, my heart goes out to all of you, especially to the grieving families and friends of Renée Good and Alex Pretti, as well as my gratitude for showing the world what it really means to be in community—in the most bitter, cold, savage circumstances.

I contacted my senators today to express my outrage and ask them to use every tool available to stop this madness when they vote on appropriations this week. It took all of five minutes. It’s the very least I could do. You can find contact information for your congresspeople here.

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.

Try, Try Again

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Every morning, I try to spend a few minutes meditating. I use an app, which is helpful and instructive. My mind wanders as minds do, but I am, over time, getting more adept at slowing down and focusing on my breath.

This came in very handy on Monday, when I found myself back in my dentist’s chair, because my new crown for my fifth implant came loose last week. No so loose that it popped out, but loose enough that it needed immediate attention. Of course, this all happened on New Year’s Eve, when no one could see me for several days. (Why do these kinds of issues always happen on a Friday evening or right before a long holiday weekend?)

In any case, it took two hours of poking and prodding by my long-time dentist, Dr. K, plus several tries to remove the crown and adjust its size so it would fit properly by his partner, Dr. F (she of the smaller fingers and more delicate touch). Ultimately, that did not work. I had been concerned from the get-go a few weeks ago that the crown was too big, and apparently my instinct was correct, because it never seated properly, which is why it loosened up.

So, now I have to return in a few weeks to redo the dental impressions, and then they will order me a new crown. Why didn’t this one fit—a problem I’ve never encountered before, thankfully? It was very hard to take the digital scans, because of my tight mouth, so that might have been the culprit. (For the repeat, we’ll do it the old fashioned way.) Or, as Dr. K surmised, the manufacturer that he’s worked with for years has changed personnel, and his trusted contact who always did things perfectly is no longer there.

In any case, at least there is a solution that I don’t have to pay more for, and the implant itself (what the crown is screwed into) is still solidly in place (my biggest concern). Everyone thanked me for my patience. I was grateful that I could breathe my way through it.

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: Filip Mishevski

What If?

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For years, our younger daughter has been asking me to document how I bandage my fingers. What if you can’t do it and need help? she asks. What do I need to know?

So, last week, while she was visiting for the holidays, we finally got down to the nitty gritty. I reviewed all my dressings, what I use for which kind of ulcer, and she took videos of me bandaging my fingers. Right now, I have five ulcers, with various issues, so it was a teachable moment, as they say. I also guided her as she bandaged one of my thumbs, so she could get the feel of the process. Which she got, immediately.

But we didn’t stop with my bandages. She created a computer file, and we went over all my medical issues, medications, doctors, and more. It was a lot to discuss, and it was exhausting to pull all that information out of my head, but very important and well worth the time and effort.

You never realize how much you do automatically for self care until you have to stop and explain every step, especially for a disease as complicated as scleroderma. And if, God forbid, I became incapacitated, it’s very reassuring to know that she’d have a complete written and recorded explanation of what help I would need. I certainly hope she doesn’t have to access any of that information anytime soon. But at 71, I know I have to be realistic and prepared for more help than I am accustomed to. And I am extremely grateful that she has insisted that we create this manual—and finally did.

Wishing you, Dear Reader, and your loved ones a healthy and fulfilling New Year. This one’s been a doozy. Here’s hoping 2026 is a better year for all.

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: Jesse Cason

Crowned

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And so, on Monday, I got my new crown for my fifth dental implant. It feels odd to have all my teeth once again, always an adjustment after nine months from extraction to finish, living with a space in my mouth.

As it was last month when my dentist and his team took impressions to make the crown, this was not a fun hour of my day. Lots of stretching my lips to the maximum as he manipulated the post into place and then adjusted the crown itself to fit properly. I had to stop him at one point because the stretching was really extreme, and I needed an break and some Vaseline to lubricate my lips.

But we got through it. My bite feels right again. I can speak more clearly—which surprised me. The tooth in question was the first lower molar on the left side, kind of in the middle of my jaw. Apparently, even a space there, not visible, affects your tongue and how you form words.

When I saw my dental hygienist last week, she checked, as always, the status of my other teeth, several of which have been resorbing slowly for years. One of them has progressed—or, rather, regressed—a bit since she last checked. Not a good sign. It has been somewhat sensitive of late, though fluctuating. I’m just hoping that it and its neighbor, the other troublemaker at present, can hold on for a while longer. I really need a year, at least, between these procedures, just to let my mouth (and pocketbook) recover.

Scleroderma brings many, many complications. Resorbing dental roots doesn’t happen to everyone, but I seem to have hit the jackpot on this particular problem. I am grateful to have excellent dental care. Both my parents had partial dentures as they aged, and I’m glad that’s not the only alternative any more. I just wish dental insurance covered implants, which it doesn’t. Given that my issues are caused by a disease, it seems ridiculous that there isn’t some kind of coverage.

Universal health care, anyone?

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: Akasha Dhage