Scleroderma is an autoimmune disease. Healthy cells are mistaken for unhealthy ones, and the body attacks itself. Not only is scleroderma a difficult name to remember, it is also a Greek word that means: hard skin. Because of the name, people mistake scleroderma for a skin condition.
When a doctor told a patient that he or she had scleroderma, it was usually followed by a statement like: Get you’re things in order, you don’t have long. For a long time, that was true. Now, thanks to research, there are treatments available to help patients survive the progression of scleroderma by treating a patient’s symptoms. Scleroderma is different with every patient. Some have Diffuse Scleroderma or the “fast and furious killer”, or Limited Scleroderma, which progresses slowly and in spurts. Many patients die of complications of this type. Then, there is the overlap kind. In addition to scleroderma, a patient can have another autoimmune disease like Lupus, Fibromyalgia and any of the dozens of other autoimmune diseases that manifest slowly. Often not receiving the proper diagnosis because symptoms have not yet appeared, or the patient’s medical team does not know enough about autoimmune diseases to diagnose properly. Often resulting in the Limbo of illness: Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, or MCTD.
I was diagnosed in 1994, at the Madison Veteran’s Hospital. The Veteran’s Healthcare System was originally designed for aging men. So not only did my medical team have limited research about scleroderma at the time, I was a woman and they really had to work hard to make changes to accommodate my treatment. They did not know I should have immediately been placed in an occupational therapy program to prevent my hands from becoming severely damaged and impaired. They did not know to inform me about symptoms and warning to watch for, so I didn’t have to loose part of my thumb. They didn’t know that my additional symptoms were really sarcoidosis, and not scleroderma symptoms, proven by an outside provider after taking months of ER chest CT scans to UCLA’s pulmonology department, three hours away paid for out of my own pocket and private insurance I could only receive at the time because my husband and I owned a small business, and as an employee could not be turned down because of pre-existing conditions. Yes, many people I met in the 1990’s are surprised to still see me alive.
Now that denying insurance coverage because of pre-existing conditions is now against the law, patients with scleroderma are receiving life-saving and life-extending treatment, but many patients in areas that are not near a major city like Los Angeles, Chicago and Minneapolis, patients are still getting misdiagnosed and dying because of it. How do we solve this problem? With medical provider education and patient education. Of course, money is the biggest help because that funds research and treatment. All of these things are happening, but we can do so much more. Scleroderma needs better marketing.
T-shirts and teal bracelets are not enough. A pretty color, a shirt and accessories is not enough. Scleroderma needs a new name and I have the perfect name. One that embodies the surprise of the uncommon scleroderma symptoms. A name that expresses the pure frustration of scleroderma patients, in addition to the terror they feel when they experience trouble doing something we all do without thinking; like swallowing and breathing. I think you will agree this name, fits.
Scleroderma needs to be renamed, “Whisky-Tango-Foxtrot”.
It’s easier to say, easier to remember and let’s face it, you can’t forget it. It’s obvious why, but I’ll explain it in one simple sentence. It’s easier to Tango or Foxtrot after some whiskey. (By the way, did you know there are two ways to spell whisky?) Not everyone likes whiskey, but who doesn’t like dancing, or watching someone dance? See how easy that is? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Rolls right off the tongue. So let’s not just raise awareness, let’s educate and get the word out about this debilitating, progressive and degenerative disease called scleroderma and rename it Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Because I know when I first heard the word scleroderma the first thing I said was, “sclero-what?”. End sclero-what today, because the best way I know how to express what scleroderma has made me think of the most is, “WTF?”
Yes. Scleroderma does do ugly things to beautiful people, and me, too.
When I began this blog, my intention was to raise awareness of scleroderma. I’m going on my sixth year with this blog, and awareness is not enough. The truth is, scleroderma is an ugly disease. It doesn’t directly affect breasts, and the damage done by scleroderma is shocking to those who are completely unaware. I know, no one wants to hear that people aren’t paying attention because there is no high-level celebrity that has it, except Queen Latifah’s mom. Here are some things not being covered, even by foundations. Not because they don’t want to, but because they are too busy researching and assisting patients and their families.
There are so many things that bother me about awareness campaigns. First, small independent patient communities, not affiliated with research or patient advocacy, raising money for swag to fund their advertising which includes a bunch of prayers and stupid bracelets. I’ve had scleroderma for twenty-one years and not once has a stupid bracelet made me feel better. How about skipping the middle man and sending that two bucks you paid to look like you made a donation or care about scleroderma, directly to research or patient advocacy. Or maybe something like a scleroderma patient’s cleaning service.
Unless you are dying or rich, scleroderma patients do not qualify for cleaning services, without having a home health nurse. Don’t get me wrong, many patients need full time care. But for those who don’t, like me, the last thing I want in my house is someone dressed like a nurse, who has to stay for three hours twice a week, cleans my house half-assed because she’s there for healthcare and of course hear about all her personal problems (I’ve had this done with three “helpers”.) The last time, when I was released from the hospital after forty-five days last year, the VA granted a home health care assistant. Eventually,I had to schedule myself to be home three hours, twice a week so she could help me clean. Of course, she was there for healthcare so getting her to clean was like pulling teeth, so that didn’t last long and I resumed my own cleaning. All I needed was someone to come by once a week for an hour and a half and do the heavy cleaning in my house, then get the f*ck out. I didn’t need companionship, help dressing, eating, bathing, even though I had to stay off my foot. Just clean the bathroom, kitchen floors, change my sheets, not even do laundry. But no, the VA doesn’t do that. Everyone is so busy looking for fraud, that people who could use a little help now and then have to wait until they are injured, or worse.
And then there are people who tell me, “ask your family to help.” First of all, I live near none of my family. I live near a health care facility qualified to take care of my medical needs. Also, that would require me to live near my family. One family member even told me I should try assisted living. I get home from comedy clubs at two or three in the morning, and I drive myself. Look I may have stayed in the hospital forty-five days, but I did not go without a booty call. I had two during my stay. I got away with it in a hospital, because nursing stations are busy at shift change, but in assisted living, someone’s going to notice my room mate sitting in a wheelchair outside my room for at least an hour to get the return value on that Brazillian I pay for every month.
I’ve done my time laying around in pain waiting for medications to be developed to cure scleroderma and sarcoidosis. The diseases have run their course. My lungs are scarred, I have lost mobility in my hands and I still deal with chronic pain. For me, the worst is over. I no longer wish to raise awareness of scleroderma. I want to make patients aware that if they can just keep fighting, and remember to start fighting again when giving up (I’ve given up plenty of times), that there can be life with scleroderma. Right now, you might be fighting to breathe. There is a chance you can make it through this, and if you do, there is so much life to live. Look, there will always be a time when our bodies will tell us we are ready to move on, that it is time to not give up, but accept that it’s time to leave this life behind, scleroderma or not. For those patients out there wondering how they can live with the damage, it can be done. It will take work, there will be disappointment and there will be some success.
The only thing I hate more than having scleroderma, is when someone tells me they are sorry. I know people don’ really know how to react, and maybe patients appreciate it when hear someone is sorry they have scleroderma, but not me. It doesn’t anger me, it enrages me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate them feeling something, but sympathy? I’m not dead yet, Mother F*cker! And it usually in a doctor’s office where I am trying to get routine care so I can maintain my health. I don’t want sympathy from a healthcare provider. How about some empowerment with care that encourages me to be active? Luckily, I get that at The West Los Angeles VA Hospital. I also got it at Loma Linda. Long Beach sucked. (That’s my review of those three hospitals.)
So that is my ugly, honest rant. It’s how I really feel about fundraiser drives to support advertising and teal-wearing and showing pictures people without scleroderma will scroll past on Facebook because it is so shocking. Hell, I scroll past a picture of a scleroderma patient clearly suffering. It sucks. Not as much as having the scleroderma, but it’s definitly hurting the fundraising. Save the Tatas, raises money because people love to see boobs. Groups who post the worst and seek sympathy, shock people away from learning about scleroderma, because to someone who doesn’t have it, it’s hard to see. I know, it’s not what any of us wants to hear, but does that make it any less true?
The title of my last post is, “I Hate The Documentary, Project Scleroderma: Beneath The Surface”. I thought about changing the title, but I have decided to keep it, and follow up with this post. I take you on a scenic route to my point, so feel free to jump to the paragraph that is headed in bold type, for my point. There is nothing simple about scleroderm. Every patient is different.
The documentary itself, is a labor of love by those who created it. I have seen clips and is very well done. This documentary
is needed because it informs and educates. What I may have failed to relay in the last post, is that in addition to my denial, I hate the lack of education throughout the medical community. And then there is the issue of spell check here in this Word Press program, that insists on auto-correcting scleroderma to sclerosis. I’ve been acutely ‘aware’ of scleroderma for over twenty years. To say that I am beyond frustrated about how little people know about scleroderma, is an understatement. Luckily there are people who care enough to donate their time and money to amplify the voices of those with scleroderma.
For twenty years, I have been raising so-called awareness. Friends and family “like” my blog’s Facebook Page, but never share my posts. I wouldn’t mind that so much if they weren’t so quick to share every Bible verse or “Save the Tatas” meme. I haven’t had the guts to say this to friends and family, until now.
Dear Family and Friends,
Thank you for asking me how I’m doing and offering to help out, but I would really appreciate it if you would follow up with action like sharing things from my blog- or at least reading it. These memes that you post like “Share if you agree cancer sucks”, seem nice. But I think we can all agree you are sharing the obvious. How about sharing something about an illness that few people know about like, oh I don’t know.. maybe scleroderma? It’s great to see all your selfies at breast cancer runs and the swag you spent a ton of cash on, but when I post about fund raisers why is it so quiet? Seriously all you have to do is share and donate a dollar when there are fundraisers.
There are many of you who do, but you know who you are.
This post may be too honest, but it’s not like anyone reads my blog anyway. I have avoided speaking out to friends and family on Facebook, because I don’t like to complain, and let’s face it: More people have been affected by things like breast cancer. But just because another disease gets more ink, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t speak up every now and then and say: Ahem.. Over here please!
Yesterday, I posted about hating Project Scleroderma: Beneath The Surface. And if I can express my feelings about dreading to watch the documentary spearheaded by a woman who lost her mom to scleroderma within four months of her diagnosis, it would be irresponsible of me to be honest to strangers and not my friends, family or acquaintances. What it boils down to, I hate having something no one else has heard of. I hate that people share something every day about cancer or God, but rarely share about scleroderma. I hate being a scleroderma patient.
Scleroderma: Beneath The Surface, will help spread the word about scleroderma. Every day, I am reminded that there is very little publicity about scleroderma. I was recently told by a customer service representative at the Social Security Disability office, that her understanding of scleroderma is that it’s a skin condition. I wasn’t rude about it, but I did explain to her what scleroderma does to a human. That it’s far more serious than a skin condition or rash. She was shocked, and I was encouraged by her willingness to learn. I was both encouraged and annoyed that someone who works with disabled Americans, thought scleroderma was just a skin condition. Just thinking about it, makes my hair hurt.
Just because scleroderma doesn’t have the coverage breast cancer “enjoys”, I do not want to diminish how serious breast cancer is, and how its publicity has saved lives. Of course breast cancer continues to kill men and women and still there is so much to be done. Many organizations have made progress because of generous donations. What I see in addition to this great work, is a new industry, and that is something I am not fond of.
We don’t have to agree about everything, but we do agree scleroderma needs to be cured.
So many wonderful Americans, found ways to fund treatment for patients who could not get it, with fundraising. That is a wonderful and selfless accomplishment. And somehow, all of these good intentions have created the Disease and/or Cause market of swag. We all love swag. I don’t know about you, but swag that tells me I’ve done something good gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling. Swag needs to be manufactured, marketed and sold. Swag has become profitable when added to big named brands. Do you really believe the National Football League would come out with all that Pink merchandise, if they did not profit from it?
I think it’s wonderful when communities come together. Meanwhile, many individuals who belong to these communities, complain that giving all citizens access to healthcare, no matter what they could pay, is wrong because it’s socialism. Now, before you stop reading this post because I do argue for universal healthcare for all in The United States, hear me out.
People have told me for years that I deserve the best, because I am a veteran. I disagree. I deserve the best because I am a human being. I believe all who are in the United States should have access to the care they need, not what an insurance company or government program is willing to pay for that specific care. Sure, I’m a veteran and I have scleroderma. But wouldn’t my family feel that I deserved the best possible care if I were not a veteran? What if I was you daughter, sister, wife, mother or child? Would you still feel that it would be okay that I am denied treatment because I cannot pay for it? I am also arguing is that veterans have friends and family, they would like to see get the medical treatment they need. (One, two, three, what are we really fighting for?) I have had access to the greatest treatment at the time, for scleroderma after fighting in both the VA system and private sector with what was nicknamed, Golden Insurance.
When things were going well for the business my ex-husband and I owned in the early 2000’s, I chose the company’s health insurance plan. Back then, no matter how much money my spouse made, no insurance company could provide the comprehensive coverage I needed, due to my pre-existing condition of scleroderma, unless I was employed. So, I worked from home and chose such a comprehensive package for our company, it was one of the many reasons our company went bankrupt. I already had access to great care at Loma Linda Veteran’s Hospital. The Chief of Rheumatology told us that my prognosis was getting worse. That if we had private insurance, he would recommend me to a colleague who just happened to be the Chief of Rheumatology at UCLA Medical center. That admission of, “I don’t know what to do next, but I’m going to find someone who might”, saved my life. I owe my life to this great rheumatologist who knew the difference between doing what’s best for his patient, and doing only what he could. Of course, my ticket to the land of affordable second opinions, was money. (That reads funny to me as well, and it’s not my grammar.)
If I did not have insurance, my rheumatologist could have referred me to the West Los Angeles VA, which could have taken months. Meanwhile, Veteran’s health Care was overwhelmed with casualties returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. The Veteran’s Healthcare system was already overcrowded and underfunded before two wars. My yet to be diagnosed sarcoidosis was simply written off as a symptom of scleroderma, and nothing could be done. So my appointment with a UCLA associated rheumatologist might have taken as long as a year to be seen. My difficulty breathing was dismissed by local doctors and emergency departments in Murrieta and the Loma Linda VA hospital as a symptom of scleroderma. I know this because these things were written in my medical records by whatever resident doctor in the Emergency Room was, who just happened to have little experience with scleroderma patients. At UCLA, my biopsy was expedited because after my pulmonologist at UCLA reviewed several of my chest CT scans from other facilities, he read in the notes that I should have further testing for lymphoma. Following the recommendations of the radiologist’s report of these scans, was a another note commenting the testing for lymphoma results was unnecessary because I had a pre-exisiting condition of scleroderma. The pulmonologist at UCLA ordered a PET scan and the lymhnodes in my chest lit up like a Christmas tree on steroids. There had to be a biopsy done, because everything pointed to cancer. A biopsy of my lymph nodes and lungs were done less than two weeks later. Granulaomas known as sarcoidosis, were found in my lymph nodes. This discovery was huge. My rheumatologist at UCLA ordered a medication that my Golden insurance company and Veteran’s Healthcare formulary, both required the failure of two other drugs before using Remicade. So, my rheumatologist provided the golden insurance company evidence to support my need to skip right over the formulary, and allow for Remicade. It took some time, but in less than six weeks, I received my first infusion of Remicade at my local hospital in Murrieta, not eighty-five miles away at UCLA. The cost was $22,00o per infusion. (Yes, that is a five-figure number for one dose of medication that by the way, saved my life.)
There is no way of knowing for sure if the Remicade stopped the scleroderma from hardening my lungs or the sarcoidosis from making my lymhnodes so large, I would be unable to get the proper amount of oxygen in my blood and my heart would fail. What I do know is that eight years after my diagnosis of sarcodosis, I maintain a stable prognosis. My treatment with a medication that was $22,000 a pop was transferred to the the Veteran’s Hospital at Loma Linda. The rheumatologist who ordered it there, the Chief of Rheumatology presented evidence to counter the formulary restrictions, based not only what was provided to my Golden Insurance’s formulary, but my progress since the treatment began.
There is a continuity of care requirement for medications that are benefiting a patient when there is a change of insurance. I was not able to stay on Remicade because simply because I was already on it. There was a record the Golden Insurance company had, of the valid research backing this decision, and there was evidence that in my case, no matter what was being suppressed by this strong immunosuppressant, the drug was working. At this time, there is no way to know of knowing what Remicade worked to fix. I am one patient with both scleroderma and sarcoidosis. Both chronic illnesses are rare and I have yet to know of another human with both. My rhumatologist at UCLA, who is a leader in scleroderma treatment around the world, just recommended what he thought would be best, based on research that existed at the time and his experience. (The world reference is not an understatement. My doctor is **Dr. Daniel Furst. Go ahead. Google him. We’ll wait…)
But what does this have to do with a documentary about scleroderma? I live in Southern California. My location alone, allows me access to doctors who have experience with scleroderma, and/or who are actively overseeing and doing scleroderma research. The Veteran’s Hospitals in highly populated areas like LA and Loma Linda are teaching hospitals where young minds go to learn and make progress in treatment and diagnoses because they are med students working with those who teach, do research and have mountains of experience and work, they can build upon to improve care. Teaching hospitals are where progress in treatment are made, and save lives. UCLA doctors and faculty are the specialists who see patients at the West LA VA. Not everyone has as good an outcome as I have had. I am aggressive when it comes to my care. Being able to fight for my care, and get it, has a lot to do with my location. If I lived in Bakersfield, I would have to drive, or take a bus provided by the VA, to see doctors at the West Los Angeles, VA. Why do I know this? Because there are not enough facilities for veterans to get the care and specialization they need in Bakersfield. They travel to LA. This is nothing unique. When I lived in La Crosse, Wisconsin, I had to travel three hours by car, one-way to get the care I needed. At one time, I lived across the street from a hospital that consulted with the Mayo Clinic. Yet I still had to drive three hours one way to see a rheumatologist my VA Healthcare would cover.
Doctors need to be educated, and get the most current information and resources available to treat their patients. Patients should not have to cut medication in half so they can get almost the right dose they need, to save an insurance company money. In fact, insurance companies are the consumers to pharmaceutical companies. The statement: “Cutting medication decreases the cost to the consumer”, is incomplete. Sure, it does cut the cost to both patient and insurance company. Production of medication using the same dosage, increases the profit a pharmaceutical company makes because it does not have to pay for the production costs of a smaller dose of the medication. So we’re inconveniencing and sometimes hindering the care of patients to save a buck. Someone has to make a sacrifice, and it’s going to be a company who answers to shareholders. The company or insurance company does not serve the consumer (patient). It serves the bottom line and it’s shareholders.
From my perspective, medication is viewed as a luxury item, by those who don’t need it. Medication is not a luxury item. Medication extends, improves and saves the lives of We The People. Should anyone be denied lifesaving treatment, simply because they cannot afford it? No, but this has become The American Way. Because providing healthcare to all that is paid for by the Federal Government would be socialist. Yet aren’t we entitled to “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”? No, because for some reason it has become the norm to deny people medical treatment they are unable to pay for, and allow them to die. Wait, I know the reason. It’s because we want the freedom not to pay for people less fortunate, like those who are sick and disabled, taking advantage of hardworking Americans. People have limited access to treatment and qualified practitioners. When something the government creates to help those who need medical care but can’t afford it, many companies who benefit by profiting on expensive medication, spend millions to stop expanding care to people who can’t afford care. Not because they are cruel, but because it’s in the best interest of the shareholders. A company cannot be cruel or compassionate. It is a company and exists merely to earn a profit, no matter how helpful they appear. (Companies are not people, my friends.)
Finally, my point:
Scleroderma Project: Beneath The Surface, needs to be seen to show that swag is not what patients need. Sure, swag is nice and don’t we all look good in pink or teal on Instagram at the most recent Race for The Cure? I’m tired of swag. I’m tired of merchandise. Why is it that the disease with the best lobbyists gets all the funding for research? I would love to see less people dressed in a color for their cause, and more money going straight to research for their cause. I don’t hate the documentary itself. I hate what the United States has become and that we need to show people suffering slow, painful deaths to prove that research for scleroderma needs funding, and is not simply a skin condition. So download the movie, watch it then share a link to it and say a little something about it when you do. The world needs to learn about scleroderma. Watching and sharing is what you can do to help scleroderma patients like me.
** Dr. Furst educates rheumatologists around the world. If you would like to find a doctor near you, please contact the Scleroderma Foundation by visiting Scleroderma.org and you will find a doctor closest to you that has proper experience and education. Dr. Furst works with my team of rheumatologsts who treat me through the VA. This is because of my geographical location.
I recently announced my scleroderma may be in remission. According to Merriam Webster, remission (is) a period of time during a serious illness when the patient’s health improves.
Remission was my word, not my doctor’s. I have also heard from other patients who will not use remission as well. The general consensus is, although the definition of remission does fit, and it doesn’t say permanent or temporary, remission is accepted as ceasing of the symptoms. It fits when referring to cancer. The cancer is somehow eradicated by treatment, and while in remission, patients do not experience symptoms of cancer. The difference with scleroderma is, that scleroderma may run it’s course, or symptoms may be controlled by medication, but blood work, and symptoms show scleroderma is present. The best term I have heard so far in reference to this is referred to as a “holding pattern” by patients and their doctors.
For me to say that I may be in remission is incorrect. Symptoms will flare. I will still have good and bad days. When I spoke with my doctor I was elated that I may have lived long enough to be through the worst of scleroderma, I threw around the word remission, carelessly. I apologize to you, who are kind enough to read my work regularly, and new patients looking for information. I was talking about scleroderma incorrectly, and I am s very sorry. Of course, I still have sarcoidosis, but it’s symptoms are very mild for me. I write more about scleroderma, because it’s just more aggressive in me than sarcoidosis.
I was very swept up in the possibility. One of my best and worst coping mechanisms, is denial. Like all patients with a chronic illness, I do not want to be sick, labeled as sick or live my life as if scleroderma defines me. It works well for me, until I get swept up, as I did with the word, “remission”.
The last few weeks, I have been working through depression. It is something that affects me more than scleroderma, in body and mind. Scleroderma is a life-long commitment no one volunteers for, but we can choose how we cope with it. A friend of mind gave me a name for my technique, he told me I am like Lt. Dan, from Forrest Gump. I liked that comparison because it felt like it rang true. Like Lt. Dan, I am angry about what life has handed me. I never ever want to be referred to as handicapped or disabled, and don’t get me started with God. I of course will not climb up on a shrimp boat mast and curse God during a hurricane, but I am certainly not going to worship God or pray. (That’s a whole other post.) For me, accepting scleroderma will always be a part of my life is a sore spot, but I do it. That may be why I have a great deal of patience with everything else. Traffic or long lines seem like minor things, and a waste of time to get angry about, because eventually a long line will move.
Scleroderma has taught me to live in the now. I am not in remission. I may be in a holding pattern, but I will need infusions and medication for the rest of my life- and it will not be cut short. That may seem unrealistic, but to me that is one thing that is not. Scleroderma, childbirth and a severe head injury have thrown a lot at me these past 43 years. I have a lot of life left, and there is treatment for my symptoms. I will continue to work hard to stay healthy, which we all need to do, scleroderma or not. I have not yet reached mid-life. I have a ten year old son, and I plan to see him walk on Mars, and meet his children. Life is full of obstacles. I choose to make obstacles, part of the adventure.
Last year, James Roumeliotis, founder of Bounce to a Cure made it into the Guinness Book Of World Records for The farthest Distance Traveled on a Pogo Stick. Watch this inspiring video with highlights from James’ Journey through Pogopalooza’s Park at The OC Fair in Costa Mesa.
This year, James will attempt to break another world record at Pogopalooza 10 in New York. I will be cheering him on from California and sharing about his progress. Please visit and like Bounce to a Cure’s Facebook page & like and if you are twitter, you can find him @BouncetoaCure. He is using his talent to help scleroderma patients by raising awareness and funds for scleroderma research, for the Scleroderma Research Foundation.
I admire James and I am so honored to be working with him to help spread the word!
Visit his website, Bounce to a Cure. He’s working with some partners you might recognize. I don’t want to give too much away, but you may see a turtle there…
Well, because of my meds, obviously box wine is out of the question: But a girl can dream. (Sigh). I set out to make this post about why a patient like me with scleroderma, Sarcoidosis and pulmonary fibrosis would attend a health and fitness convention, then I realized the answer was obvious: Health and fitness make my quality of life better. So, if I stopped here, that would be one short post, so I will tell you more.
On September first, I made a commitment to meditate every day for 40 days. If I skip a day; no matter what, I must start over at day one. So, here it is October first and I’m on day one- again. There is hope I will make it to day two tomorrow, but it’s still early, but I wouldn’t put money on it today. Tomorrow, that;s another story.
Meditation and Deep Breathing Helps: But you have to do them in order for it to be of benefit.
The great thing about the meditation I am (attempting) to practice , is that it involves deep breathing based on Kundalini Yoga practice. Back when when I did yoga consistently, the type of yoga did not matter; be it Kundalini, Anusara, Vinyasa or yoga on the fly: I was breathing and moving better. Scleroderma, Sarcoidosis and the effects of Pulmonary Fibrosiswere not dominating my life. But now, as I continue to slack in my practice, I feel the effects of fatigue. If feels like my lungs are not exchanging oxygen as effectively as they could. My last Pulmonary Functions test showed that my oxygen exchange improved with the use of albuterol. Now, albuterol and I have a rocky history and although it offers immediate improved air exchange, the side effects cause other problems that keep me from breathing properly outside of a clinical setting. The only way I can describe what albuterol does to me is this: It’s like doing cocaine without the euphoria. It makes me climb the walls; resulting in anxiety, panic attacks, swollen thoracic lymph nodes and the problems those results cause. This actually defeats the purpose of opening airways because those side effects cause me to get LESS oxygen into my lungs.
No Snakes On A Plane Here
By the way, I tried to find a link about pulmonary fibrosis and albuterol that would not scare the begesus out of my family. Here is my statement to calm everyone down: My condition is stable. Pulmonary Fibrosis is in the lower lobe of my left lung and there is a little in my right. It may be right or left- I always get it confused, but you get the point. I have fibrosis and restricted alveoli due to inflammation. My lungs are at 85%, which is not bad for someone with Pulmonary Fibrosis, 20 years of Scleroderma and let’s not forget about the Sarcoidosis. So, please relax. There are no snakes on this Monday to Friday plane. (Yes, there is a clean version) I’m stable, mobile and have lots of life left in me. Okay, so now that we have that out of the way: Because the Albuterol improved my lung function, (numbers) my Rheumatologist at UCLA recommended we try it because if it helps, it’s worth a try.
Albuterol is not my friend. It helps me breathe better, but is counter productive because of the stimulant effect it has on my system. I have a history of anxiety. I used to get panic attacks so bad, the granulomas (sarcoidosis) in the lymph nodes in my chest would enlarge, resulting in restricted movement of my lungs because they could not expand. It would happen without anxiety, but because of the right medication, my condition has stabilized. Like many autoimmune or chronic conditions, stress can cause a flare. Sure, albuteral would improve my numbers, which would be helpful if I the side effects defeated the purpose of even taking it because of the anxiety from the stimulant effect it has on me. Our solution to this quandary? Achieve our objective of open airways with the newer, more expensive treatment, titotropium bromide inhalationpowder (brand name Spiriva).
For those of you who are not aware of the excellent healthcare equivalent to that of Dick Cheney’s: I am a 100% service connected veteran with Medicare. That means my specialists at the Veteran’s Hospital, consult with my specialists at UCLA because the specialists at the VA have no idea what to do with me. They are great doctors, because if they don’t know the answer, they will find a way with a referral to a specialist outside the VA. (Really, can you count on more than one finger how many patients you know with scleroderma, sarcoidosis, pulmonary fibrosis who test positive for rheumatoid arthritis AND have a stable condition after 20 years (with meds)?- Me neither.)
Veteran’s can have specialists consult with specialists outside the VA Healthcare System, and because I qualify for medicare, my doctor’s visits to UCLA are 80% covered by Medicare. Because I have no other insurance, medicare approves many things without having to fail three times befroe getting the right treatment that’s more expensive. Same with the VA. The thing is, as our own advocates, we need to communicate with our doctors, encourage and by all means ask to go outside the formulary when it is necessary. (Don’t be willy-nilly about it.) Good doctors will advocate on your behalf to go outside the formulary Restrictions, of they have the evidence that skipping formulary treatment will avoid unnecessary complications. This is where being your own best advocate, well read and have a great communication with your own medical team is priceless. (Nerds. I guess I will have to write how to get there with as few breakdowns as possible. -Okay, coming soon- I promise!)
Okay, so what started as an announcement, has turned into an update of my meds, ways to go outside the formulary and being your own best advocate. I hope my update- okay let’s be honest, my rant has been helpful and maybe even sparked a few questions. I hope you will ask questions, or leave comments at the end of this post. I am most inspired to write by anyone with questions or comments.
Now, back to my original goal of this post; my announcement. I will be attending the Body 2.0 conference in San Francisco October 7th as a Health Activist and contributor to WEGO Health. Body 2.0 is a health and fitness expo for anyone interested in maintaining or improving health and fitness. So there you go. We tool a long car trip to get here, but that’s what’s on the agenda this week and next. preparation, travel, relaxation then health activism. Stay tuned to keep up to date on what’s new in fitness & health, WEGO Health and how what a patient can benefit from a health and fitness expo. We may be fighting for our lives, but learning what we can do to maintain health between battles or during, can benefit you and someone like me with multiple diagnoses like oh, I don’t know; scleroderma, sarcoidosis, pulmonary fibrosis, contracted hands, limited range of motion… Do I really need to keep going. Just stay tuned, and if interested, visit WEGO Health if you would like to attend Body 2.0, test some products or learn from health activists.
Now that The Mighty Turtle has a renovated home, I would like to explain the goals and purpose of this website. Some of you remember it from back in the day as Scleroderma, Sarcoidosis and Box Wine. I still have the Facebook Page of the same name, but changed the blog name so it would be easier to remember. I picked “turtle” because turtles out lived the dinosaurs by adapting. They moved to the sea, learned that jellyfish are delicious, and know how to cruise The Gulf Stream like a champ on loose bed of kelp. The only thing anyone remembers from Scleroderma, Sarcoidosis and Box Wine is the “Box Wine” part. By the way, I stole the “Box Wine” idea after listening to hours of listening to The Stephanie Miller Show Podcast driving to and doctor’s appointments between LA, Riverside and home.
Overall it is a blog, but there are resources and a store as well as a useful resource about life as a member of the human race living with some chronic illnesses, being a parent and 100% service connected female veteran.
My diagnoses are Scleroderma, Sarcoidosis, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Depression and complicated damage like pulmonary fibrosis, barrat’s espohagus and Joe my God, the list ends here.
I write to raise awareness and hope to save others time by sharing about how I spun my own wheels. In addition to written posts, I have a video series called, Scleroderma on the Fly. This series consists of facts and helpful tips about scleroderma. Each video after Episode 1 will be two minutes or less and will cover only one topic. This is to provide a quick go to source thats easy to understand and easy to repeat. I want those who watch to walk away from each episode knowing the topic.
Feedback is always welcome. I especially need to know if there is something I talk about that does not translate or you as the reader or viewer need further explanation. I am my own editor. Of course I enjoy positive feedback, but critical feedback will only help me become a better messenger. If it’s the information I give is ever confusing, let me have it!
I support research and fundraising organizations I know about and find credible by sharing their information, donor pages and more. I am not connected to the organizations I endorse.
I write about current events as well as medical experience. There is more to life than our diagnoses. It took years of therapy for me to realize I was not my Scleroderma. I want to share that message. Though my opinions will be shared, the only thing we need to agree is that diseases like Scleroderma and Sarcoidosis need a cure and patients need better treatment while waiting for one. (I’m a little tire of waiting. Did someone just start playing Muzak?)
Thank you for taking the time to read about this website/blog. I hope you will find it a useful resource and share posts when you feel they are share-worthy. It doesn’t matter your diagnosis and this page is not just for patients. It is for patients and those who love and care about them. Coping is tough as both a patient and loved one. The greatest way to torture a person is to cause suffering to those they love the most. Not sure? Ask a parent. Diseases have symptoms in common. Coping is universal because we are in this together and we can help each other by learning from one another.
In 1992, I considered myself an average 22 year old. I was in the Navy at the time and my fingers started feeling tingly and would go numb at the slightest drop in temperature. When I reported my symptoms to a doctor, they were dismissed as “female hysteria”. Then, one “lucky” day I got food poisoning while at work. I rode out the symptoms for 8 hours. Once my shift was over, I had finally stopped vomiting long enough to clean the bathroom and head to Sick Call. Sick Call is the Navy’s walk-in Urgent Care. Food poisoning in my division was no excuse for missing work. The only way I could get the next night off work would be by doctor’s orders.
The physician who saw me immediately recognized I needed the next night off and wrote me a note to bring to the officer in charge of my division. My doctor even expressed his frustration with my supervisor for not sending me to the ER. I was too exhausted to even reply with more than a grunt when the look on my doctor’s face changed from irritation to bewilderment. The doctor asked me if I had blue paint on my hands.
I had become so accustomed to my fingers numbing and was so wiped out from food poisoning, I hadn’t even noticed it had happen while I sat and talked to the dcotor.
I told him “No, my fingers do that all the time. No one ever believes me when I tell them. Thank you for noticing.”
He grabbed my chart, noted my symptoms and then frantically started looking through books on the book shelf over the desk of the cubicle we occupied. He appeared frustrated and couldn’t find what he was looking for. Eventually, he pulled out a slip and told me he was referring me to Balboa Hospital to see a Rheumatologist. I had no idea what a Rheumatologist was. In fact, I think it was the first time I had even heard the word Rheumatologist. I was just relieved someone recognized I was not crazy and I was looking forward to getting that note to my boss so I could go to bed.
After recovering with a good 48-hour nap, I woke up relieved. I realized that my days of being called “sick bay commando”, “hysterical female” and “slacker” were over. A doctor witnessed what I felt. I had proven my symptoms were not my overactive imagination. I was looking forward to my appointment with this rheumatologist, but my relief of finally finding an answer was only temporary.
I didn’t see one Rheumatologist, but two at the same time. I thought, “Now I’m going to get some answers.” Blood work had been done and there I sat in an office with two men I thought were finally going to give me the answer I was so desperately seeking.
They might as well have told me the answer was 42. I was told my blood work came back negative and they had no diagnosis. I was told to cut out caffeine and smoking. After making those changes, my symptoms continued. When I returned to my follow up appointment three months later, my symptoms were still present. The same Rheumatologists concluded it could be my birth control pills, but since I had low blood pressure they were not sure. I still picture them tossing ideas to each other like watching a game of tennis as my head bobbed back and forth as if looking from one side of the net to another. So, off I went to finish up my time in the Navy. I just dressed warm and tried not to complain.
During the last six months I was in the Navy, I took an EMT Class to find out if I would like being a nurse. I loved it. The nurses who taught the class would comment about my fingers and toes turning blue when we practiced assessment on each other. My capillary refill was never normal, but I had been seen by rheumatologists, twice and had no other symptoms. I felt there was really nothing to worry about. So, I made a plan to work as an EMT while attending nursing school. I was preparing to leave warm and beautiful San Diego for college in La Crosse, Wisconsin.
As a native Californian who could count on one hand how many times she spent more than two weeks in a place with snow on the ground, Wisconsin was quite an eye opener. I arrived in April of 2004 to what I thought would be spring. It was. I just had no idea spring in Wisconsin is about 40 degrees. Unfortunately, my fingers and toes became worse and by October, I had my answer.
Again, I saw two Rheumatologists. I began to believe they traveled in pairs. I came to see them after months of preliminary testing and blood work by a gaggle of doctors at the Madison Wisconsin VA Hospital. This pair of Rheumatologists took one look at my nail beds, looked at each other, looked up at me and in perfect unison said, “Scleroderma”.
It sounded like Greek to me and I was close, it was Latin for hard skin.
Then I had two questions, “Will this kill me?” And, “Should I drop out of nursing school?”
Both questions were answered with a solemn “We don’t know.”
I left the exam room with prescriptions for Plaquinel and Nifedipine. I came for answers and left with even more questions for which I was given a few leaflets to find my answers. I was in a daze, confused and left the office with a new life partner, Scleroderma.