
Today, if my darn fingers will obey my brain, I will start to ponder a request from the dedicated professionals at the Scleroderma Foundation to write about scleroderma for children and teens. Quite a challenge, as it forces me to actually face what it DOES mean to a person. That is something easier to duck, it seems, than to face straight on. So what if my typing is decaying due to a lazy, slightly crooked hand? So what if I need to rest more and more, feeling that the hours of waking are slowly fading away? Ah…so what?
So I am going to do a series of ramblings about the very disease process that brought me to writing for children in the first place. Perhaps in these musings I’ll come to a place where I can write with both joy and honesty to such a young audience. Perhaps once again I need to think how to explain it all to grandchildren who may not quite understand why Grandma is tired so much and that we see so much less of each other. We’ll see, as this form of reflection is a painful path for me.
What scleroderma has meant to me is having a pin put into a balloon that was always full of energy, floating happily from one task to another, multi-tasking with ease while constantly expecting more from myself. I was boundless energy that crashed about every four months, slept an entire day, and was off running again. Down time? I knew no such thing. Contrast that with today where I take a day to recover from simply teaching for five hours…sitting, I might note…to a very small class. I sleep the sleep of the dead so much of each day now that the waking hours are the unusual thing. And, I remain tired and dizzy all the time. But, stubborn…no one but George is allowed to see me struggle. For the rest of the world, the picture is of just a slower me, but not necessarily a different one.
But scleroderma is changing me. For one thing, while I still plan a thousand events and projects, I am learning to focus and finish one for that is something I believe I can still do with my former quality. I have less patience for politics, less desire to engage in any form of fighting (whether of the academic or personal strife form), and more desire to just sit peacefully and read. So in many ways, scleroderma is a blessing, forcing me to slow down and notice the world around me. To pay attention to what really matters…the people who make life worthwhile. Hence my ongoing dedication to that small group of students who have bonded with me at the Academy.
Scleroderma, though, is not a kindly friend. It takes a bit of your energy every day, permanently leaving you a little less to go on. Hands and feet cramp painfully, making even the glory of my morning swim at times an agony of stops and starts as I try to force my feet to do their job (how one can pull dead weight thru water I do not know!). It robs one of dignity, as a digestive system becomes one’s greatest enemy. Just eating can bring on a wave of discomfort that makes no real sense but is real nonetheless. Lady’s aren’t supposed to have flatulence, right? Wrong. If you have that misconception, saddle up close to a woman with scleroderma and you might get more than you bargain for! UFF DA!
So, today is just a ramble to begin to shape my thoughts around the challenges I face now and to start to make myself think thru how to most optimistically handle the challenges that still lie ahead. And, it will provide us food for discussion or at least thought, I hope. And Sandria, if you read this, thank you. I will work on getting to the right place to do the task you’ve requested.
Have a great “T” day!
“What new?” asks T?