Columns

‘Excuse Me, What Did You Say?’

The clock ticked loudly as the phones rang in unison with a ticking timepiece that was getting on my nerves. I wondered how long my appointment would take. Sitting in the doctor’s office had become second nature to me. Yet, I was ready to be done with…

Don’t Cry for Me, Scleroderma

It was one of those “oops!” moments — the express elevator down to your gut when you realize you hit “Reply All” by mistake. My inbox dinged — a lame substitute for the “You Got Mail” jingle — and I read the message in which the sender referred to me…

A Tale of Woe From a Human Pin Cushion

“Don’t worry. This will feel like a pinch.” Sitting in the sterile room with a tourniquet wrapped tightly around my arm, I stared intently at the legion of vials awaiting filling. The pinch did not feel like a pinch; it was more like a bee sting. As the lab…

During Flare-ups, My Scleroderma Body Pauses Life

Messy is the best word I can use to describe a flare-up caused by scleroderma. My home, my thoughts, my life — they all unravel, and it’s messy. When my body is weak and consumed by aches, I spend a lot of time under blankets. During a flare-up, my…