Technology and Me, Part Two: Taking a Stand

By: Marianna Boyce

Nowadays, technology is used for most everything we do. If you read Part One of Technology and Me, I shared the love-hate relationship I had with Siri. Of course, I love my iPhone, but hate the intrusiveness that comes along with having one.

On a more positive note, Siri has helped me out of a tight spot on more than one occasion, making her an unlikely hero.

This was especially true as I navigated my way through a serious health issue that mysteriously appeared out of nowhere just a few years ago. It turns out, I was suffering from horrible symptoms similar to those of rheumatoid arthritis.

RA is a life-altering illness where the immune system and brain gets their wires crossed. The immune system sees healthy cells as foreign invaders and literally fights against itself. This autoimmune disease targets and breaks down the lubricating fluid surrounding the joints, setting off a terrible chain of events. The intense chronic pain, inflammation, and swelling makes it impossible to lead a normal life—or it did in my case.

RA packs the kind of pain that changes people from the inside-out. It doesn’t take long for it to physically and mentally take its toll.

I work in a cushy office environment for a large insurance firm. One might think sitting behind a desk all day wouldn’t be difficult, but with RA, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g is difficult—even the smallest of mundane tasks. Sedentary work, or doing nothing, is actually the worst for an RA sufferer.

In my case, it always felt as though cement was hardening around my joints, making it excruciatingly painful to stand up from a seated position. I had to keep moving for the pain to be tolerable. Counterintuitive—I know, but that’s how RA works.

I desperately struggled. My confidence level plummeted and I could no longer keep up the facade of a happy, thriving employee. I was absolutely miserable.

One particular morning, I allowed the pain get the best of me. I vented my seemingly endless list of frustrations to Mr. Wine, my district office manager. Fortunately, I had a great boss that allowed me to rant in order to get things off my chest. What neither of us knew at the time was that Siri took note of my every word, and it was Siri that would be the driving force that kept me from temporarily leaving my cushy office job.

As I wrapped up my itty-bitty pity party with Mr. Wine, I continued to mumble as I walked away. Under my breath I uttered, “My life would be so much easier if I could just stand up all day.” Just like that, Siri chimed in on our ‘private’ conversation—only she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. Siri’s suggestion spoke for itself.

After Mr. Wine’s iPhone ‘dinged’, he looked at it with a surprised look on his face. He said, “You’ll never believe this,” When I looked at his phone, I was speechless, and thought to myself, “That’s so weird!” I unconsciously snatched Mr. Wine’s phone and began perusing the website so brilliantly displayed on the screen.

It was an advertisement for Varidesk, and I was like a kid in a candy store.

Varidesk, (now simply Vari) is a company that makes adjustable workstations where one can choose to sit or stand—all while maintaining a productive workflow. Also included is a convenient cushioned mat to help alleviate pressure on knees an ankles.

I was sold! I wanted one—like yesterday.

An adjustable desk was exactly what I needed, and there was no doubt my husband would purchase one to aide in my fight against RA. Gerry is just amazing like that, but Mr. Wine wanted to approach from a different angle.

He contacted the ‘powers-that-be’ at our home office and asked them to invest in Varidesk on my behalf. They surprisingly agreed, but only if I could get a letter of recommendation from my rheumatologist. Of course, that letter would be obtained within days, and the rest is history.

For me, unless I’m experiencing an RA flare, sitting down on the job is simply not for me.Thanks to Siri, Mr Wine, and the powers-that-be, I don’t have to sit all day anymore. I can take a stand against this debilitating disease instead. Sometimes I just have to remind myself: I have RA—RA doesn’t have me.

I have not been paid or given any special services for Vari’s mention in this post.

Technology and Me: Part One

By: Marianna Boyce

Photo by JESHOOTS.com on Pexels.com

While many of us are unapologetically addicted to technology, we should also be leery of the intrusiveness that comes along with it. I’m not the most computer savvy person in the world, but I certainly know how to power off Siri so she doesn’t listen in on conversations. I also go the extra mile to switch location services off to keep the phone from tracking my every move. If you like them on, that’s okay too. It all boils down to personal preferences.

With that being said, I wonder how ads have popped up on my Facebook feed after only a ‘POOF’ of a thought in the back of my mind. Apparently, Siri is not only a tracker and an eavesdropper, but she’s also a mind reader. Yet, in her defense, she has helped me out on more than one occasion.

In a cleaning frenzy in 2016, I wondered what to do with the outrageous number of band t-shirts my son accumulated during his high school and college days. I knew he could never part with them, but also knew he would never wear them again. I don’t recall ever discussing with anyone that I was looking for a solution to my t-shirt dilemma. Imagine my surprise when an advertisement for “Project Repat” popped up on Facebook a day or so later. I’d never heard of this company before, but was quickly drawn in by the fact that they make quilts out of old t-shirts. Wow! I’d never entertained the idea of a quilt, yet the answer was staring me directly in the face.

As I apprehensively clicked on the link, I was thinking, “how in the world did Facebook know?”

Needless to say, I loved the idea and ultimately ordered the quilt. I shipped Cody’s shirts to North Carolina, and ‘POOF’—a few weeks later, he was wrapped up in a queen-sized commemorative t-shirt quilt (which is super-cool by the way). Thanks to Siri for suggesting this phenomenal idea to preserve these amazing memories.

The second time she came to the rescue was an entirely different scenario altogether.

Early one morning at the office, my boss and I were having a serious conversation about my issue with rheumatoid arthritis. Siri was eavesdropping in on our conversation through my manager’s smart phone. I believe the buzz word picked up at the end of our conversation was in my last statement to him…“I wish.”

It turns out “my wish” prompted an interruption from Siri that ultimately changed my work environment for the better. In this case, I’m glad she was listening. Be on the lookout for my next post to hear about this game-changer in my fight with RA.

I am not being paid by Project Repat, or receiving any goods or services for their mention in this post.

The Little Country Church on the Side of the Road

By Marianna Boyce

Growing up in the Bible Belt, there was never a question where my family would be every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night. It was important then, and even more so today. However, with all the social distancing, slowing the spread, and flattening the curve, I’ve been staying home to live-stream church services instead.

This past Easter, as I laid in bed with my eyes wide-open, many thoughts filled my mind. Realizing this would be the very first time I physically wouldn’t be at my home church for Resurrection Sunday, I had a tug to visit a notable place from my childhood.

My little journey required an early morning drive across Lake Murray Dam. I turned onto Highway 176, and plotted my course for a small town about thirty miles up the road. As a child, my family traveled this route often—at least three times a week.

Old barns still stand along the two-lane country highway. The dilapidated storehouses intrigued me as a young girl, and, as much as I wanted to stop and explore some of them, today was just not that day. Instead, a small country church on the side of the road was beckoning for a visit. This special place holds some of my earliest childhood memories. It was the church my dad pastored for much of my young life. My siblings and I recently talked about Victory Baptist Church, which is probably why I had such a desire to go.

When I spotted the white cinder-block building in the distance, I slowed my car to a crawl. There were no other cars out that morning, so I stopped on the road just before turning into the deserted churchyard.

Once I entered what used to be the driveway, my car sat idle on the overgrown weeds and grass, I allowed my mind to wander. I thought of nothing in particular, but everything in general—all at the same time.

Nostalgia got the best of me, and I was immediately transported back in time.

My dad’s ministry started the year he married my sweet mama in 1956. I was born twelve years later. Since I was the baby of five, my memories are vague at best, but I know this little church will always be an integral part of my Christian heritage.

When it was organized, there was no running water—which meant no indoor plumbing. Kids weren’t constantly going back and forth to the restroom during the preaching hour. They simply had to wait. If they couldn’t, there was a bush behind the building. The church underwent a remodel years later and small restrooms were thankfully added.

The children all gathered in one Sunday School class. That’s all we had. We squeezed into that tiny room to learn about Adam and Eve, Noah and Jonah. Most importantly, we learned about Jesus. My brother, Lewis, also learned the books of the Bible here. He felt incredible when he was able to recite them all from memory.

On hot summer days, we’d open the windows in hopes of feeling a gentle breeze from heaven. Since none of them had screens, that gentle breeze periodically brought in a wasp or a bee, but we’d fight ‘em off with those old-fashioned funeral home fans with the wooden stick handles.

In the winter months, gas heaters were fired up to warm the cold air. By the end of the sermon, we were always toasty and warm. It could’ve also been the convicting power of God. Who knows? At the time, I was too young to understand, but I totally get it now. Conviction can certainly make anyone a little “hot under the collar.” My brother, Tommy, recalls one particular winter day in 1962 when he experienced that true power of conviction. He knelt at the alter with my dad’s sister and Aunt Emily led him to the Lord. It was a wonderful day, indeed.

Mom played the piano while Uncle Ralph led us in songs from yesteryear. We didn’t need more than “Amazing Grace,” “Victory in Jesus,” and “Sweet Hour of Prayer,”—my Grandma Caldwell’s personal favorite.

My sister, Beverly, held me on her lap until mom finished playing the piano. There was no such thing as a nursery in this little church. If children misbehaved, their parents would simply take them out and “have a little word of prayer with them.” Many times, the kids would start crying before that “necessary prayer” even took place. We knew what was coming. It didn’t take long for us to learn to sit up and behave for an hour or two…ish.

As the preacher’s kids, my siblings and I always ran the risk of being called down from the pulpit. Don’t worry. None of us bear permanent scars created by the embarrassment of our childish misbehavior. We’re all thankful for parents that made us mind. Discipline never hurts anyone. It only hurts when there’s none.

My sister comically recounts a story when she decided to rest on the front pew during dad’s sermon. This was okay given Cindy’s age, but when she raised her arms and legs straight up in the air, she garnered more attention from the preacher than those sitting behind her. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but immediately sat back up when daddy called her out. Needless to say, she never did that again.

After church, we’d all run outside to play chase, red rover, or mother-may-I until it was time to head home. The older kids would stand by the road waving at the occasional passerby. Of course, no one would hear of allowing this today—and for very good reason.

We had some good times at this small country church on the side of the road, but as you can see from the photos I recently took, this building sadly sits empty as it gives way to the elements. The green grass and beautiful wild flowers I remember have been choked by weeds and suffocating vines. Those weeds are now taller than me and my sister when we stood in the churchyard proudly holding our umbrellas so long ago.

I’m not sure why I needed to visit this special place from my past. Maybe I just needed to reconnect with a time and place that anchors my Christian heritage. Living in an unprecedented day of change and uncertainty, there is one thing that is still abundantly clear—God is in control of it all. I continue to find much comfort in that.

Mixed Emotions

By: Marianna Boyce

For now, the thought weighing heavily on my mind is staying healthy. It’s not a selfish thought. We’re all working diligently to fight this invisible enemy. Other than the obvious—overall good hygiene, washing hands, and coughing or sneezing into a tissue or bend of our elbow—the bottom-line answer to this situation is to simply stay home.

But what if your place of employment remains open for business? What then?

It was a sobering thought as I read the memo given to me Friday afternoon before my commute home. I received my “authorization to travel” in the event the surrounding areas enforced a “shelter in place” order. The top line of the memo reads, “Critical Industry Employee, Authorization to Travel.” A statement in the body of the memo reads, “if you work in a critical infrastructure sector as defined by the Department of Homeland Security, you have a special responsibility to maintain your normal work schedule.”

As crazy as it seems, my plan is to do just that.

Photo by Artem Beliaikin on Pexels.com

I’m the senior administrator for a large insurance company. Working for such a firm guarantees I’ll have plenty to keep me busy while others are hunkered down at home. Don’t get me wrong. This makes me happy, but extraordinarily sad at the same time.

I’m not particularly fond of being considered an “essential” employee. In my opinion, everyone’s place of employment is essential. I truly hate for any business to be closed. What makes my job more important than yours? Nothing, my friend, absolutely nothing. It’s as frustrating to me as it is to you, but while many of you wish you were able to go to work, I secretly wish to be hunkered down at home.

Before Coronavirus, my mantra was to crawl in sick as opposed to call in sick, but since COVID-19 entered the scene, I’ve totally changed my opinion on the matter. So far, I’ve been well, and taking extraordinary precautionary measures to stay that way, but the mental battle to choose work over home is still grueling. I have plenty of PTO time I could take, yet I’m more inclined to work.

My coworkers and I have put many social distancing rules in place. We wash our hands constantly. Hand sanitizer and latex gloves are always within reach. Lysol wipes and spray are always close by for us to use; although, the rationing has begun…

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Photo by Burst on Pexels.com

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Watching the world being brought to her knees in a matter of a few weeks is surreal. The entire ordeal feels like a terrible movie, and we’re all the stars of the show. Public enemy number one is on the rampage, and no one has the answer in combating such a vicious virus. I think we’re close, but not quite there yet.

When the worst has passed (and it will), we will never be the same. As a people, we will be different. In my opinion, we will be greater. As was the case of September 11, 2001, America will adopt a new normal—but what will it be? That remains to be seen.

All I know for sure is, God is good all the time. He’s never surprised by anything, and always in control. We’ll make it through. Stay strong my friend, and if at all possible—stay home!

Has It Ever Occurred to You, Nothing’s Ever ‘Occurred’ to God?

By: Marianna Boyce

Before ‘Coronavirus,’ ‘social distancing,’ and ‘flattening the curve’ became household words, I planned to submit a comical post written about technology and the older generation, but as the past few weeks began to unfold, I felt it wouldn’t be appropriate at this time.

The title of this particular post is a statement I’ve often heard my dad say, and no, nothing suddenly dawned on God. He didn’t just ‘wake up’ one morning and say, “Wow—I didn’t see that one coming.” Although I find much comfort in that, uncertainty is still somewhat unnerving. This unprecedented crisis developed in breakneck speed, not only in the United States of America, but also around the world.

It’s no secret America is at her best when we all stand together as “one nation, under God, indivisible…” but prayer is the key. Our country was founded on biblical principles. Praying to an all-knowing God has gotten us through some very difficult times in the past, and I have no reason to believe He won’t do the same now.

My pastor says that prayer is the slender nerve that moves the hand of God, but in my opinion, it shouldn’t take a global pandemic to get America back on her knees, yet here we are.

As we seek God’s face in the coming months, let’s fervently pray for our leaders and those in authority. Like them or not, they have an incredibly difficult job.

Of course, our doctors, nurses, and first responders need knowledge, wisdom, and strength to keep pushing forward.

Our truck drivers tirelessly keep our supply chain moving. I’ve noticed many more on the road in the past week or two, and I’m okay with that. How about you? They’re carrying precious cargo—our food, water, and other essential supplies, including that elusive toilet paper. Let’s be patient when we’re on the road with them.

If you’re working extended hours in our grocery stores to clean, sanitize, and re-stock shelves—thank you. You’ve not been forgotten.

As we practice social distancing from our friends, neighbors, and co-workers, let’s not distance ourselves from a great and mighty God. After we thoroughly wash our hands, lets remember to fold them in prayer for one another—not only for the United States of America, but for the entire world.

“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16 (KJV)

“The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and he knoweth them that trust in him.” Nahum 1:7 (KJV)

This is one of my favorite verses in the Bible. I’d love to know yours.

Exercise and RA: Part Four

By Marianna Boyce

I’m sure we can all agree exercise benefits us all—regardless of gender, age, and fitness levels. There are many options to choose from, but not every workout suits every need. The key is to keep looking until you find which one works best for you.

 

In the beginning, I used rheumatoid arthritis as an excuse not to exercise, but quickly found anything water-related was a soothing option for my aching joints. For that very reason, I joined a gym and participated only in their water fitness classes. After about a month, this particular activity enabled me to build strength and endurance, ultimately giving me the confidence I needed to search for more options.

 

Since I preferred group classes, I looked for some I could do without creating painful regrets. There’s a difference between RA pain and exercise pain. I can handle the exercise pain alone, but paired with RA, it’s a frightening thought.

 

To follow is a list of some of the choices I’ve made so far. I certainly plan to add to the list as I become stronger, but for now, I’m challenging myself. It’s a balancing act, but the motivation is quite simple—feeling better while improving my mobility.

 

Aqua-Fit/Aqua-Tone/Aqua-Zumba

Each of these fun-filled workouts is for people of all ages and fitness levels.

 

I reaped many benefits from these non-impact underwater exercises performed in a temperature-controlled pool.

 

The instructor guides each step of the way, and most importantly, if you mess up, no one cares. As long as you keep moving, you’re doing it right.

 

I like to say, “What goes on under the water stays under the water.”

 

There’s no judgement and no rules.

 

Okay, there’s only one rule—no drowning allowed, and since your face is never submerged, it’s an easy rule to follow.

 

As I gained momentum in the areas of flexibility, strength, and mobility, I mustered up enough courage to try a Yoga Restore class.

 

Yoga Restore

This relaxing hour is also encouraged for all ages and fitness levels.

 

It uses breathing, stretching, and restorative postures to assist in feeling refreshed and renewed. With the lights dimmed, the intimidating factor most people feel when starting out makes it easier to attend. It’s a great way to treat your body to a calm, relaxing workout.

 

There’s no judgement and no rules.

 

Okay, there’s only one rule—just do you. Since you know your body better than anyone, it’s an easy rule to follow. The instructor never pushes beyond your limit. If you can’t hold a particular stretch or pose, do one you can.

 

RPM (Indoor Cycling/Spin Class)

This class is for all ages and fitness levels.

 

RPM is a calorie-burning workout on stationary bicycles where you ride with the instruction of an enthusiastic coach. An instructor will guide you through various terrains—including hills, flats, and mountaintops.

 

In this class, there’s no judgement and no rules.

 

Okay, there’s only one rule—just have fun. It’s not a competition. The instructors constantly encourage members to listen to their bodies.

 

This high energy class is great, but I always take it much easier than everyone else. My knees and ankles don’t allow for the intensity many others exert—and I’m okay with that.

 

Barre

Wow—I love this class. It’s incredibly challenging, but miraculously doable—even for those with joint-related issues such as RA.

 

It’s a low-impact, high-energy program that integrates principles of yoga, Pilates, and strength training all in one class. The instructor focuses on slow, full-range movements combined with high repetition and isometric contractions. It increases strength, endurance, and bone density. It also improves posture, functional movement, and engages every muscle in the body through each pose and exercise.

 

Did I mention, there’s no judgement and no rules?

 

Okay, there’s just one rule—challenge yourself, but only within your physical limitations. The instructor will give modifications to any exercise if necessary.

 

Is it easy? Absolutely not. Has it been well worth the extra time, effort, and money? More than you’ll ever know. Until September of last year, I’d completely forgotten how good exercise felt. These activities changed the trajectory of my health and wellness goals.

 

Trust me! There’s still much to do, but the benchmark I recently set for myself was to simply feel better without focusing on a number on the scale. I’ve met that goal—so what’s next?

 

If you’ve ever entertained the idea of joining a gym, I encourage those of all ages and fitness levels to take that plunge if at all possible. Not all have a pool, so if you’re searching for water-fitness in particular, MUV fitness is a good option. If you don’t necessarily need a pool, I definitely recommend any reputable gym that’s convenient and affordable.

 

The reasoning is simple, and has nothing to do with vanity, but everything to do with mobility.

 

I’m not 100% pain-free, and may never be, but I haven’t felt better in years. Exercise is helping in ways I never thought possible—mentally and physically. It’s something I never thought about until it was snatched away, but I can honestly say I no longer take it for granted. The power of movement and mobility—it truly does matter.

I’ve not been paid or given any services from MUV Fitness.

 

Exercise and RA: Part Three

By Marianna Boyce

After the onset of perplexing RA symptoms in 2016, it’s taken me more than three years to pull myself together—especially in the area of health and wellness. The counterintuitive aspect of combining exercise with rheumatoid arthritis seemed ludicrous, but I’ve been desperate to feel like my old self again. I know exercise is an important factor. I’m not getting any younger, so it’s high time to get started. No more quitting.

Everyone’s probably heard the definition of insanity—the one where you do the same thing over and over again while expecting different results? Yeah—that’s the one. I was driving myself crazy trying to figure out what I was doing wrong.

It was clear what kept me in tip-top shape in my thirties and forties wasn’t clicking in my fifties. I had entered a new season of life—and wasn’t happy about it.

This change was inevitable, and throwing RA in the mix was much like throwing gasoline on a fire.

In a nutshell, I just missed me. It was evident I needed a different approach, so I got back to basics—start slow and do what you can.

Initially, I resorted back to my home workout videos, but they weren’t as easy as they used to be. I was desperate for outward results but didn’t realize at the time that I needed to work on things other than vanity.

Wanting to lose twenty pounds, I started making better food choices, but also took the plunge and began working out in my sister’s pool last summer. It was then, something strange happened. After a few sessions in the privacy of Cindy’s backyard, I felt incredible—and hadn’t even lost one pound.

Disappointing? Maybe at first, but as time passed, I made a conscious effort to stop fretting about the number on the scale and concentrate solely on the inner me instead.

When summertime came to a close, Cindy covered her pool for the fall and winter months. We decided to join a local fitness center with an indoor pool as we waited out the colder weather.

In all honesty, we weren’t thrilled with the idea of shaking up our daily routine by going to the gym throughout the week, but it’s something we had to do. It sounds like a zany idea for two women in their fifties to be joining aquatic activities in a public pool—yet there we were, along with other people of all ages, shapes, and sizes.

We both loved it immediately.

After the first few sessions, one of the instructors asked if we’d tried classes other than the pool-related ones.

At that time, Cindy and I were on an incredible exercise high, but our instructor knocked us right back down to earth when she asked us about trying other classes.

My thoughts were, “We’re just here for the pool, lady—nothing else. We’ve found our new comfort zone, and we’re happy about it, so there’s no need to push the issue.

This intuitive instructor wasn’t convinced. She thought we could do more. This sweet lady suggested we try a Yoga-Restore class offered upstairs in their main studio.

I told her about a few yoga videos I enjoyed at home (pre-RA,) but they were currently more advanced than my physical capabilities allowed.

She explained this particular class was more concentrated on breathing, stretching, and relaxing. The more she talked it up, the more Yoga-Restore intrigued us.

Breathing is a necessity; stretching leads to mobility, and relaxing is a luxury.

Sign us up. When’s the next class?

Little did we know how amazing we’d feel the day after yoga.

If you suffer from RA, fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, etc., you know that mornings are the worst. The pain and stiffness after waking up are debilitating, but after the first yoga session, our mornings were much more tolerable—not 100% pain-free, but definitely a considerable difference than before.

Branching out to take that one additional class prompted us to seek more possibilities, but we agreed the pool would be a constant. Our new yoga class was also a keeper, but we now looked at the gym in an entirely new way. It appeared Cindy and I were much stronger than we initially thought.

Our options are limitless, but our health issues sometimes keep us grounded. There’s always a fine line to tread, but as a team, we have each other’s back as we both make progress.

How can we push ourselves without going overboard? What else can we possibly do? Just about anything we put our minds to.

Exercise and RA: Part Two

By Marianna Boyce

If you read my last post, you’ll recall my sister and I claimed her swimming pool as our gym last summer. Cindy and I both suffer from chronic illnesses that affect mobility; she suffers from fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis, while I endure dreadful symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis.

 

What started as “Saturday only” water workouts quickly evolved into something much bigger. We upped our game as we squeezed in two additional workouts during the week. Being in the water made it easier for us to move.

 

The weekday shakeup in my rigid routine was inconvenient but well worth it. The hardest part about changing the workout schedule was getting there after a long day at work, but once we were in the pool, we were unstoppable. Swimming made an empowering difference in the way we felt.

 

Cindy and I were definitely on to something—that is until the leaves started changing their colors.

 

When she covered the pool for the fall and winter months, I had the mully-grubs. My body needed the pool, so I began searching for venues that offered aquatic fitness classes in a temperature-controlled setting. We needed a heated pool in a clean, safe environment.

 

Of all the options available, a local gym in the heart of town caught my eye.

 

Now, the question was, “Do I actually want to join a gym?” 

 

Having a membership definitely has its perks, but it costs money, time, and commitment—things I wasn’t sure I had. Certainly, no one dealing with a beast like RA joins a fitness center. The idea seemed counterintuitive, so I immediately started talking myself out of it.

 

First and foremost, what does a fifty-one-year-old, pain-filled, peri-menopausal woman do at a sports club?

 

Secondly, I couldn’t afford to join, but then figured I couldn’t afford not to. 

 

Thirdly, I thought the gym was for “perfect” people. I’m certainly far from that, but it was high time my health and wellness finally took precedence.

 

To satisfy my curiosity, I needed to visit the gym. Since I had no earthly idea what to expect, slipping in under the radar was my goal. I finally mustered up the courage to go to the gym, and I actually fell in love! The whole “slipping in under the radar” idea was not an option, which was a good thing.

 

I was initially impressed with the security from the get-go. Once I entered the building, I had to abide by the safety rules in place. It turns out, I couldn’t aimlessly wander much further than the front desk check-in. I’m not sure why I thought I could.

 

Members must show their barcoded pass scanned whenever they enter the building. Since I wasn’t a paying member, I was promptly met with a friendly face as soon as I stepped inside the front door. I probably looked like a deer in headlights, but she immediately made me feel comfortable.

 

Before taking a tour, I had to sign in as a guest. The process was computerized and entailed more than just signing my name on a sheet of paper. Still, this minor inconvenience made me feel secure knowing they had a detailed listing of everyone in the building at any given time. 

 

After signing in, a gym representative gave me a tour. I revealed my medical setbacks, and the representative assured me that many people join the gym for similar reasons. Not everyone who goes to the gym is young, fit, and fabulous.

 

As I looked around, there were people of all ages and sizes scattered throughout various areas of the gym. Some people were in great shape, and others were working on their goals, like me. The reality of large fitness gyms differed completely from my preconceptions.

 

I was quite comfortable with the representation of everyday people. Although we were extremely different from one another, we were also very much the same. We all just wanted to feel better. Exercise does that for everyone—healthy and unhealthy alike.

 

I left the gym with a fourteen-day free pass to use in whatever way I chose, but my interest was with their indoor pool only. Water exercise was the only thing I was confident I could do, but with fourteen free consecutive days, it would certainly help in my decision-making process.

 

Whether at home or a gym, movement makes a world of difference. I wasn’t ready to forfeit my mobility over to RA. As stated in my last post, I have RA—RA doesn’t have me.

 

I could hardly wait to tell Cindy about my visit. She had a fourteen-day free pass waiting for her as well. I hoped she’d love it because I’d already made up my mind—I was not doing this gym thing alone!

Exercise and RA: Part One

By Marianna Boyce

Rheumatoid arthritis is a chronic, progressive disease where the immune system mistakenly attacks healthy cells and tissue surrounding the joints. It sees these healthy cells as foreign invaders, ultimately causing painful immobility and deformity if left untreated.

Symptoms of RA darkened my doorstep the summer of 2016, and honestly speaking, it’s been one of the best excuses I’ve had to avoid physical activity for the past few years. Don’t get me wrong. RA is a great excuse, but my itty-bitty pity-party was getting a little ridiculous.

I have RA—RA doesn’t have me.

Still trying to regain what’s considered normal for me (pre-RA,) I wondered if reviving my exercise routine was even possible without creating more problems for myself. I was scared of raw, unbridled RA pain, so I was skeptical. If you’re struggling with any type of arthritis or mobility issue, I’m with you. The thought of physical activity is daunting, but new light has recently started to change my mind on the subject.

According to Google, “motion is lotion” is a phrase coined by an orthopedic surgeon. He stated that movement would increase the lubricating fluid (synovial fluid) transporting nutrients to the joints. This fluid is vital in keeping them healthy. I’ve never been to an orthopedist before, but my rheumatologist would agree that movement is essential to maintaining independence and mobility for those suffering from chronic pain.

I know—it’s much easier said than done. My sister Cindy suffers from fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis, so together, we’re either a force to be reckoned with or a hot mess.

Cindy and I are extremely close. I’m usually at her house every Saturday afternoon for much-needed sister time— especially in the summertime.

After lounging around her pool on a hot South Carolina day this past summer, we laughed and joked with each other about how out of shape we were. Sisters can do this—and we did so as we mindlessly consumed unhealthy poolside snacks and sugary drinks. We had an epiphany that very day. Our itty-bitty pity-party had to officially end—no more excuses.

It was time to get moving, but not for the reasons many people may think. Our reasons go much deeper than physical appeal. We just want to feel better.

We started researching the benefits of Water Exercise and Aqua Aerobics. What we found was quite encouraging, and at first glance, exactly what we needed.

• Water supports the body, reducing stress on joints and muscles.
• It helps build strength and endurance.
• Water pressure helps lessen the strain on the heart as it assists in moving blood around the body.
• It provides for a low impact, high-energy workout.
• Water allows for a greater range of motion with the freedom to move with little to no pain.
• It helps prevent overheating allowing for a longer workout.
• It’s fun! (How many people can say that about their exercise routine?)

The more Cindy and I read about it, the more our interest was piqued, so the following Saturday, we found some YouTube videos and had a different kind of pool party.

The following day, we felt the workout “burn,” but it also felt fantastic. If water makes it easier to exercise, count us in, but what would we do when she closed her pool for the fall and winter months? This is where the courage to try something new came into play. For two moody women in their fifties, change isn’t always easy, but we made the collaborative decision to end our itty-bitty pity-party once and for all. It’s that decision that will potentially change our lives.

We’re a work in progress, but the struggle makes us stronger. The struggle, my friend, is part of everyone’s story. No one is exempt. We’re all in this together. What’s your story? Would this type of workout suit you?

Be on the lookout for Part Two of my “Exercise and RA” post coming soon.

**Please consult your doctor before starting an exercise regimen.**

Two Short Stories: A Touch of Christmas Nostalgia & The Best Gift Ever Given

By: Marianna Boyce

My childhood home was situated on a dead end street just outside the town of Lexington. Sixteen modest houses lined each side of the road. Ours was the eighth on the left, placing it directly in the middle of the neighborhood. My entire family is quite fond of this old home place—one that created  countless cherished memories.

I’m the baby of five children. Having two older brothers and two older sisters assured there was never a dull moment in the Caldwell household.

Tommy, Beverly, and Lewis are Baby Boomers, while Cindy and I are from Generation X. We didn’t allow a little generation gap divide our relationships with one another. We’ve always kept close family ties—even to this day. For that, I am truly thankful.

Financially speaking, we weren’t rich, but always had everything we needed. None of us received the constant stream of new toys throughout the year like many kids get nowadays. The only toys we possessed were from the previous Christmas, which is exactly what made each holiday so special.

Of course, we all grew up knowing the true meaning behind this sacred season, but mom and daddy also allowed our vivid imaginations run wild about Santa as well. It was those particular years I remember the most. For me, the early 1970s were simply magical.

At the beginning of each holiday season, mom would hang three silver bells directly in the center of our living room ceiling. These simple glittery ornaments brought me much joy and excitement. I knew once she hung those silver bells, Christmas was right around the corner.

After the ceiling centerpiece was in place, she’d also scatter glass Christmas balls around the bells using white thread and thumbtacks. These brightly-colored ornaments were beautiful, fragile, and quite unique. I wish we had possession of them today.

Mom would decorate the outside of the house with as much pride as the inside. I loved the velvety red striping wrapped around each of the four posts on the front porch. It made them look like peppermint candy sticks. She even made the ol’ mailbox look festive with red ribbon and artificial poinsettias.

She always saved the best ‘til last—her masterpiece—the Christmas tree.

The old-fashioned multi-colored glass bulbs were particularly hot to touch. No one had miniature lights yet. I’m unsure if they’d even been introduced to the world yet. Mom and Beverly constantly warned us younger kids to handle the hot lights with care, but as we grew older, Lewis, Cindy, and I often had contests to determine who could hold one in our hand the longest. Lewis mostly won. This stands to reason since he was the most rambunctious, stubborn child.

No one’s tree was complete until silver tinsel covered it. Mom always had a keen eye for the perfect balance. The tinsel was strategically placed so it wouldn’t melt onto those hot bulbs. My siblings and I often nonchalantly tossed it on, but Beverly—the motherly sister, cleaned up our mess and helped mom finish decorating the perfect tree.

When the much anticipated Sears and Roebuck catalog was delivered to our house, excitement filled the air. We all laid in the living room floor flipping through the pages seeing what toys would be available from Santa’s workshop that year. It wasn’t uncommon for us to peruse through the thick catalog daily to add to our ever-growing list.

On nights Christmas specials aired on TV, mom encouraged us to bathe early. After the quickest baths known to mankind, we hurriedly put on our flannel pajamas. Since there were no presents under the tree yet, we laid underneath the Christmas tree mesmerized by the colorful array of lights.

Mom usually served popcorn and hot chocolate, both of which were prepared on the stove-top in covered pots. Daddy popped the corn, while mom tended to the chocolate beverage so it wouldn’t scorch. We didn’t have a microwave back then. No one did. They’d been introduced, but were too expensive for most anyone on our street to afford at that time.

Since there was no such thing as a television remote, Tommy and Lewis were typically in charge of changing the channel and adjusting the volume. There were only four stations to choose from. Who remembers having only channels 10 (NBC,) 19 (CBS,) 25 (ABC,) and 35. WACH-Fox Channel-57 didn’t come on the scene until the mid-1980s. Rich or poor, that’s all anyone had. We didn’t have hundreds of channels like we do now.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and How the Grinch Stole Christmas, were my favorite TV specials. Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Frosty the Snowman, and A Charlie Brown Christmas, all tied for close seconds.

I love how several make mention of the birth of Jesus Christ. I know it’s only a quick “honorable mention,” but Linus went above and beyond at the end of A Charlie Brown Christmas as he quoted scripture from the Bible.

When Christmas morning finally arrived, our living room floor was covered from wall to wall. Of course, my sisters and I received all the girlie toys we’d wished for. There were baby dolls, strollers, and Barbies galore. Lincoln Logs and TinkerToys were also favorites. I probably played with them as much as anything else. They may have been Tommy and Lewis’s toys.  Who knows? In my mind, they were mine for being extra good that year.

Tommy and Lewis received the traditional boy toys—walkie talkies, trucks, wagons, and balls. When Lewis was old enough, he even got a BB gun. He didn’t shoot his eye out, but probably came close a time or two. My sisters and I wisely steered clear when he and Tommy were outside shooting aimlessly into the woods behind our house. Daddy probably took the gun away more than Lewis shot it, but that’s one of two things that happened when rules were broken…

I remember one Christmas, we all received new bicycles the same year. Tommy’s was red, Beverly’s was green, Lewis’s was gold, and Cindy’s was pink—I think, but I know mine was purple.

Later, we learned daddy stayed up all night assembling them before five wide-eyed kiddos climbed out of bed on Christmas morning. Nowadays, bicycles are purchased already assembled. (Daddy—I’m so sorry you didn’t get any sleep that night.)

We eventually grew out of the Santa Clause phase, but cherish the few tender years when this enchanting world existed. I’m thankful the older kids never ruined it for the younger ones.

It seems cliche to mention how fast time passes. Each year zips by more quickly than the last. Living in a day and age where children don’t know what the Great American Wish Book is, or the joy of sitting through an entire episode of a Christmas classic without looking at an electronic device, I’d say, they’re truly missing out.

What a difference a generation or two makes.

The magic of Christmas was always alive and well in our little house on that dead end street in Lexington, South Carolina. What I’d give to experience another Christmas from my past.

What are some of your favorite childhood Christmas memories? What was the best gift you ever received?

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Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com

The Best Gift Ever Given

Luke 2:8-14 (KJV)

8)And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9)And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. 10)And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11)For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 12)And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. 13)And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, 14)Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.” (Linus Van Pelt – From A Charlie Brown Christmas – December 9, 1965)

May God bless you and your families this holiday season. Merry Christmas everyone.