Living with Scleroderma

Reflections on the Messy Complexity of Chronicity

tooth resorption

Glad That’s Over

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I am writing on Monday afternoon on my laptop, as I lie on the couch with an ice-pack propped against my lower left jaw—ten minutes on, ten minutes off, to reduce swelling. This, after getting an implant, following my tooth extraction in May.

This is the fifth time in at least a decade, maybe 15 years, that I’ve had to go through this very expensive procedure, because of a scleroderma complication that causes the roots of my teeth to resorb. It is no fun, but the alternative is worse—a mouthful of missing teeth. The first two steps (extracting the dying tooth and filling in the hole with a bone graft, then implanting the base for the new artificial tooth) take about three months each to fully heal. The final stage of getting a custom replacement made is not as prolonged, but it will be at least December before it’s all completed.

Any dental work for me is a challenge. I cannot open my mouth fully because the skin around my mouth doesn’t stretch enough. Fortunately, I have found experts who know how to accommodate my limitations. My periodontist is precise and very careful with me, and he has the most calming manner, which really helps me endure the procedure.

Which involved a lot of local anesthesia, cutting open the gum around the bone graft, then drilling with three drill bits of increasing widths, then screwing in the implant with a tool that is essentially a small socket wrench, capping the implant, then filling in any spaces with collagen tissue and stitching up the gum.

The drilling is the hardest part, sending vibrations through my skull. As the width of the drill bit increases, the vibrating hum gets lower and louder. I’m always afraid that the anesthesia will begin to wear off, which it inevitably does at some point for me in these procedures. Fortunately, I caught it soon enough so he could give me more shots and finish with no significant pain. But his skilled fingers are big and my mouth is small and it is never easy.

I’ve started antibiotics as a safeguard against infection, and so far the pain is manageable with alternating Tylenol and ibuprofin. If experience is any guide, the worst is now over and it’s just a matter of healing up (and paying in installments over the next few months). Here’s hoping the next tooth that dies will hang on for a few more years.

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

Taking a Break

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I am happy to report that I got through my extraction of a resorbed tooth with no complications last Wednesday—no fun, but it’s done. So I was able to get my spring Covid shot on Friday, also without complications. My lungs have cleared from pneumonia,and I caught up a bit on rest over the weekend, along with enjoying a lovely Mother’s Day visit with my eldest in Boston. My finger ulcer heals slowly, but at least it continues to heal.

I’m also happy to report that my acting debut, a scene from The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams last Monday night, was a success. First time I’ve performed in a play since the sixth grade, and I remembered all my lines (no small feat, giving how much harder it is to remember stuff at this age, especially with scleroderma brain fog).

And so, I will be taking a few weeks off for the rest of the month, to recharge. I’ll be back on this blog in June. In the meantime, Dear Reader, I wish you good health, good medical care, and that you make the most of each moment.

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

Rough Patch

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So, what I thought was “just” allergies last week turned out to be more complicated. When our geriatrics nurse practitioner came to our home for a check-up last week, she carefully listened to my lungs and informed me that I had not developed bronchitis, as I’d thought. No, I had pneumonia.

What? That was not on my bingo card. Glad she caught it before it got even worse. I started antibiotics that afternoon, and within a few days I was starting to feel like myself again. Thank goodness, because I was getting pretty worried about where all this was headed.

Also, on Monday night I had my acting class performance—first time on stage since elementary school, a scene from Tennessee Williams’s The Glass Menagerie. We’ve been rehearsing for months, and I sure didn’t want to have to miss it. (I’m writing on Monday afternoon, so fingers crossed all goes well.)

Next on the medical agenda is a tooth extraction on Wednesday and prep for another implant. So, yet another reason I need to get past this whole respiratory episode. The tooth is definitely failing, getting more sensitive, so it really can’t wait much longer.

Then on Thursday, it’s back to the Wound Clinic to check on my slowly healing ulcer. It’s improving gradually, but needs a lot of TLC.

When all that’s done, I need to get my spring Covid vax, I hope on Friday, if all goes according to plan. We’re traveling again soon, so all this has to be wrapped up by the end of the week.

Meanwhile, Al caught whatever I had that wasn’t allergies, and is doing better but still recovering.

Of course, it could always be worse. But this has been one rough patch. Here’s hoping we’re both finally on the mend.

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: Nik

Routine Exam

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Monday afternoon found me in my hometown rheumatologist’s office. I see her twice a year, so that I always have a specialist nearby who knows my history, in case I need help pronto without driving into Boston. She is chair of the rheumatology department for our local health care organization, very thoughtful, compassionate. She also respects my long experience with scleroderma. Mostly, she listens.

We went over the usual check-list: Blood pressure looks good. How are your hands doing? Any prescriptions need refilling? Has anything changed? I reminded her that I needed her to schedule pulmonary function tests at the hospital, because my Boston Medical pulmonologist needs them when I see him in May. She sent in the order.

When she asked about my breathing, I told her I’d had an echocardiogram at Boston Medical a couple of weeks ago. She looked in MyChart. Although my exams from both local and Boston docs are visible in the online medical record, she could not access the Boston test results, something to do with HIPPA regulations.

Fortunately, I was able to get into my BMC account on my phone and pull up the information for her to review (one of those times when an internet search came in very handy). All normal, pulmonary pressures stable. I asked her about medical terms in the report: What is mild tricuspid regurgitation? Nothing to worry about, everyone has some, the echo is very sensitive. Nice to get that explanation in real time.

I filled her in on the mammogram kerfuffle. I asked her if the fact that I have some calcification in small vessels in my left breast is any indicator that more calcinosis in breast tissue could occur. She shook her head. Never seen that in 30 years of practice. I’ll take it.

I shared the good news that after several months of calcium pits emerging from my right thumb, the fifth shard finally emerged on Sunday, and it seems to be done, for now. (When I pulled the last pit out that evening, I showed Al: Look, it’s just a hole! And the hole, per usual, is finally closing on its own.) That must feel a lot better, she said. Yes, definitely.

I told her about my struggle with dry eyes from Sjogren’s and the great help I’m getting from my optometrist at the local college dry eye clinic. When I saw him last week to report back on new eye drops he’d given me (successful) and have him replace the dots on my scleral lenses that indicate how to orient them in each eye, he reminded me that I need to start allergy drops again, that it’s going to be a bad allergy season this year—the likely reason my eyes keep getting goopy.

We discussed the trade-offs of an infusion for osteoporosis (which I have had for years, like my mom and her mother). Despite not having infusions for over a decade, my bone density remains stable. My original rheumatologist, the one who saw me when all my symptoms erupted, had felt the infusions weren’t really necessary if bone density hadn’t changed.

At issue is whether those infusions can exacerbate bone resorption in my teeth. The unanswered/unaswerable question is whether the risk of losing more teeth and getting very expensive implants in a difficult procedure is worse than the risk of bone fracture if I fall. She said she would defer to my dentist. So I need to follow up with him. (And check the latest research about the effectiveness of bisphosphonates in reducing bone fractures. The answer is—it depends. Here’s info from NIH.)

And that was how we left it. It’s a lot to keep track of, but after all these years, it really does feel routine. Thank goodness, I’m holding steady.

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: Mathew Schwartz

Say Cheese

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We could all use a reason to smile right now, and I have a good one. I finally have a full set of teeth.

Back at the end of last July, I once again had to have a tooth extracted due to root resorption from scleroderma. It’s been a long nine months without my lower front tooth, #24, waiting first for the bone graft to heal, then for the implant to heal, then for the crown to be made, and finally, on Monday, to complete the whole process and get my new tooth.

Except I actually lost another tooth along the way. When I saw my dentist last month to take the impressions for the crown for #24, I told him that my periodontist had said #23, right next to it, was already 50 percent resorbed and quite fragile. Would I be able to have a second implant next to the first? I asked.

He paused, then shook his head. Not enough room, not enough bone in my jaw to make it work.

My heart sank. Now what?

Fortunately, he had a good solution. Have #23 extracted soon, then he would order a “cantilevered” crown—essentially, a false tooth for #23 attached to the crown for #24. I’d need a temporary version for the three months it would take for my gums to fully heal from the extraction and bone graft, then a permanent crown by summer.

Not that I wanted the discomfort and expense of another extraction and bone graft so soon, but better now than later. So I went ahead and had #23 removed by my periodontist a couple of weeks ago. It went as well as could be hoped, my gums healed in a week, and I got my temporary crown on Monday afternoon.

I have to say, it’s very, very nice to be able to smile without a big gap in my lower front teeth. My tongue misses having that gap to play with (back to second-grade-missing-teeth time), and the crown takes some getting used to. But given that mask mandates are gradually easing here in Massachusetts, it is great to have a full set of teeth, once again. And I am very grateful that we have the means to afford it.

Not so for many. It really is high time for dental insurance policies to cover more than just cleanings and fillings. Healthy teeth and gums are not cosmetic luxuries. They’re essential for eating well and communicating, and play a huge role in how we’re perceived by others and feel about ourselves. Scleroderma can cause significant dental damage. Some recent research is delving into this issue, which points to a correlation between digital ulcers and so-called Multiple External Root Resorption (MERR), but it needs more attention and a search for mitigating options for those of us who must deal with this rare but particularly disfiguring and debilitating aspect of the disease.

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.

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