vacation

The Monday After

Evelyn Herwitz · January 5, 2016 · Leave a Comment

Ah, yes. Getting back to work after a long holiday weekend. It’s always a slog. Even when I’ve planned well and given myself a lighter schedule to ease back in, as I did yesterday, I still find it hard to get fully motivated.

When I used to work in an office, it was all too easy to spend at least half The Monday After chatting with colleagues and sorting through a gazillion emails. Trying to get any serious work done was nearly impossible. I always felt like I was waking from a long nap and just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

Working for myself, I don’t have coworkers to chat with or the distractions of an office setting. And I’d rather be writing than doing chores or other stuff around the house. But it was still a challenge to sit at my computer and get down to business.

That was the only good thing about the Arctic freeze that struck Monday morning (we’ve been totally spoiled with above normal temperatures here in Central Massachusetts for most of December)—it was way too cold to go outside. I stuck my arm out the front door to collect the mail and immediately decided that I would subject no more of my body to the elements for the rest of the day.

So I had to stick to my desk and get through my projects. Which I did. But it took several hours for my brain to fully focus on the work at hand.

At least I had a good reason to still be in holiday mode. New Year’s was great. We started celebrating early, last Wednesday night, because Al won four tickets to a Celtics-Lakers game in Boston (he made a contribution to United Way at the hospital and won the big raffle drawing). Not only did he win four seats—they were club seats, with great views and a bonus of free parking thrown in. The Celts lost (boo), but we had a wonderful evening with our daughters, cheering and chatting and taking silly selfies.

On New Year’s Eve, Al and I joined foodie friends for an annual festive meal and spent half the night singing our favorite oldies from the ’60s and ’70s. (How can those songs really be OLD?) The rest of the holiday weekend, I relaxed, read, saw friends at synagogue, took long walks, and worked on a photo book of pictures from our Europe trip (only five months after the fact). What could be bad?

I also managed to stay away from the news, which was probably the smartest thing I did for four days.

And now it’s back to reality. I am ever grateful to be working for myself successfully. This makes it possible to sleep a little later on the Monday after a long weekend, avoid any contact with my car and the out-of-doors if it’s just too cold to venture forth, and set my own pace with projects.

I’ve been my own boss for six years this month, and as hard as the transition has been from the workplace to self-employment, with some very sleepless nights about cash flow along the way, I’m so glad to be here, now. I am certain this arrangement has helped to keep me healthier. It’s certainly helped to keep me sane.

So, hello 2016! What’s next?

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.

Image Credit: Marcelo Gerpe

Machu Picchu

Evelyn Herwitz · October 27, 2015 · 1 Comment

Ever since Al and I went to Europe this past summer, I’ve been dreaming of our next trip. No specifics, yet, just a yearning to see more of the world.

Like Machu Picchu in Peru. My podiatrist was telling me about his recent visit while he worked on my corns and calluses and ingrown toenail last week⎯a somewhat helpful distraction, as my feet are incredibly sensitive and this was otherwise not a fun appointment.

He described the ancient Incan ruins in a similar way that I’ve heard from others⎯a very spiritual space, beautiful, fascinating history (albeit tragic, given the fate of the Incas as a result of the Spanish Conquest). And he shared pictures on his iPhone, of extraordinary vistas and smiling llamas. Only a five-and-a-half hour flight from Miami.

Very intriguing. Except for one problem. The altitude is about 8,000 feet. My podiatrist is a big, muscular guy, and had no issues with altitude sickness (for which he was quite grateful). He said he was running around like a little kid, he was so excited to be there. But some people on the trip got very sick and needed oxygen.

How would I manage that altitude (assuming we could even afford the trip, which I haven’t bothered to check) with my scarred lungs? The highest mountain I have visited, as best I can recall, is Mount Washington in New Hampshire, just over 6,000 feet. The body begins to react to altitude right around 8,000 feet. Lack of oxygen can cause fatigue, loss of appetite, trouble sleeping and other issues.

There is also the risk of infection from water supplies that are not treated. I have enough issues with bacteria getting into my ulcers here at home, let alone in a place where you can’t drink the water. How would I keep my hands clean?

Right now, of course, this is all just a pipe dream. I know there are ways to acclimate your body to altitude, gradually, and there are medications that can help. I’m sure there are strategies for hand hygiene, if I were determined enough to figure it out.

But there is also the reality of scaling my travel ambitions to my body’s limitations. There are so many places I’d like to see, on every continent. Even Antarctica. In December, the temperature on the Antarctic Peninsula is about the same as it is here in New England (yes, I’ve checked). Going to Antarctica is the closest you can get to an experience akin to going to the Moon.

Not all of those dreams are possible, health-wise or financially. So, I’ll continue to explore options, right now from the safety of my computer screen. I don’t know where we’ll travel next, and it probably won’t be Machu Picchu. But it will be someplace exciting, inspiring and a push outside my comfort zone. Of that, I am determined. It’s the only way to keep growing.

Image Credit: Julio Sedano Acosta

Orange Moon

Evelyn Herwitz · September 1, 2015 · 1 Comment

With August now behind us, signs of fall are everywhere. On recent walks I’ve noticed that our neighbor’s sugar maple is just beginning to shed a few leaves. Nights are cooler. It’s already getting dark by 7:30.

But I’m not quite ready to let go of summer. So it was a gift on Sunday—a beautiful, sunny, warm day—that Al and I made it to one of our favorite beaches on Block Island, just off the Rhode Island coast.

As a child, I loved to swim in the ocean. Our family would vacation on Cape Cod, and I’d always beg to go to Nauset Beach, part of the National Seashore on the Cape’s eastern coast. There I would play in the waves until I turned blue and my teeth chattered. Nothing could stop me from swimming and body surfing.

Decades later, I still love the ocean, but it’s been many years since I could get in the water. Most of the time, it’s simply too cold and not healthy, given my Raynaud’s. But even when the water is warmer (yesterday at Block Island it was 73ºF, pretty comfortable for the Atlantic up here), I can’t risk immersing my finger ulcers in the sea. Too high a chance of infection. One year, when the girls were young, I tried fastening latex gloves around my wrists with duct tape so I could swim, but the water still seeped in.

So I’ve learned to appreciate the ocean in other ways. While Al swam yesterday, I finished reading a novel. We took a long walk up the beach, examining pebbles and rocks, searching for sea glass. I dipped my toes in the water. I took some pictures. I listened to the mesmerizing sound of the waves. And I breathed in the wonderful moist air, which does wonders for my too-dry nose and scarred lungs.

The water is an endless source of fascination, ever changing. Then there are all the birds to watch. One particularly bold—or indifferent—white-and-gray herring gull strutted past me as I read, its yellow eye scanning the sand for leftovers, close enough for me to touch it if I’d dared. (I didn’t.)

As the afternoon shadows grew long, I bundled up in the various layers I’d brought—sweater, sweatshirt, blanket, hat. We left the beach, reluctantly, around 5:30, and walked back into town to find a place to eat dinner. It was still warm enough, away from the shore breeze, to dine outside.

Later, on the ferry back to the mainland, we sat on the top deck and watched the dark shapes of the island’s dunes slip by in the night. Even with the breeze created by the ferry’s forward motion, I was able to stay up top and enjoy the stars. As our boat neared Point Judith, we turned around to see the nearly full moon high over the horizon, casting a glistening shadow across the water. It was huge and orange, the color of summer sunsets and fall harvests.

I couldn’t have asked for a better ending to a great summer.

Theory of Relativity

Evelyn Herwitz · August 11, 2015 · 2 Comments

Just over two weeks ago, we were in Ireland. How can that be? I feel as if a month has passed, already.

It’s so hard to hold onto that transformative sense of being elsewhere, once you’ve re-immersed in your everyday life. We have pictures and stories of our travels, and we’ve been sharing with friends and family, but with each day that passes, the details are a little less sharp. The minutiae of the moment clamor for attention.

Part of the reason the trip seems so distant is that I was in Chicago on business last week. This worked out better than expected, given that a mere seven days separated our European journey from my flying halfway across the U.S. on my own. After we had traveled all over Europe in two weeks, going to Chicago and even switching hotels once in three days was a snap. I was so relaxed about packing and flying that I surprised myself. Usually, I’m stressing about every detail. This time, I hardly did any preparation in advance. And I didn’t have any health complications along the way, thank goodness.

So even if our vacation seems like a long time ago, the travel experience has changed me. I know I can manage a lot of details on the fly. I know I can manage a health flare while far from home. I know I can do a lot of schlepping, get very tired, but recharge and keep going.

All of this is very encouraging. I would love to see more of the world before I really am too frail to travel.

In the days leading up to our Europe vacation, I felt as if I were jumping off a cliff. What if I couldn’t handle it? What if one of us got really sick on our journey? What if we lost our passports or they were stolen? On and on.

I’ve had so many episodes of strange, scleroderma-related health problems–infected ulcers, a resorbing tooth, spontaneous cellulitis–while on short trips not far from home, that I really didn’t know what to expect. The fear of illness in a foreign country has kept me from considering a bigger trip for years.

I prepared as best I could for all contingencies, including buying a good travel insurance policy that covered us for serious health complications. I carried an ample supply of antibiotics, which paid off when I did, indeed, suffer a bout of cellulitis in my right foot at the beginning of our travels. I planned our itinerary to build in opportunities to rest (not enough, but at least I tried).

In the end, I learned that I’m stronger than I thought. And I also discovered that a half-week business trip in one city is easy compared to a two-week vacation in seven. It’s all relative–a matter of experience, testing your limits and finding out what you’re really capable of, as opposed to what you’re afraid you cannot do.

Onward.

Postcards from Europe

Evelyn Herwitz · August 4, 2015 · Leave a Comment

Five countries, seven cities, 14 days. We’ve been home more than a week, but the memories of our trip through Europe resonate deeply. From Berlin to Achern, Germany; from the World War I battlefields in the Vosges Mountains of Alsace to a boat ride along the Seine in Paris; from beautiful Brugge to Flanders Fields, Belgium; from the Imperial War Museum in London to the resting place of Lusitania victims in Cobh (pronounced Cove), Ireland–we traveled by plane, train, bus, subway, car and foot to do research for my novel in progress, set in 1915 during the Great War.

And we made it. I was exhausted, yes, by all the travel. I dealt with a bout of cellulitis in my right foot at the beginning of the trip (thank goodness for antibiotics). I didn’t get enough sleep. But it was magnificent. Al and I found our way, with the help of many angels, to each destination, were blessed with the hospitality of good friends, stayed in wonderful accommodations on a budget (highly recommend AirB&B if you haven’t tried it), ate great food, and enjoyed the trip of a lifetime.

We’re grateful we could go. And dreaming of our next adventure. Here are just a few highlights . . .

Trenches at Hartmannswillerkopf, Vosges Mountains, Alsace, France

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, France

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Strasbourg, illuminated at night to show original colors

Eifle Tower, Paris, from the Seine River — Eiffel Tower, Paris, from the Seine River

Six flights up to our walk-up in Paris — Six flights to our walk-up in Paris

Parliament and Big Ben from the South Bank, London

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