Slept in, crept down for breakfast again, did not nearly set the toaster on fire or knock down the serving spoons (but I sheepishly avoided the glares of the lady worker in charge of the continental breakfast), and got ready for the day before Josh and I checked out at 11. Truck packed, we piled back into our seats and ventured into the heart of the city one final time. It was a little heartbreaking, really!
I didn't want to leave.
"So, sweetheart, where are we going?" Josh asked. My head swirled with ideas, and finally one surfaced - "Forsyth Park!" I tweeted back. I was still a little peeved that the lady on the haunted tours had told us that Forsyth Park was where all the Yellow Fever victims were buried, but I still wanted to see the gorgeous stretch of land and felt our Savannah trip to be truly incomplete without it. We arrived, found a super-convenient parking spot, and began our walk hand in hand. The park was indeed beautiful - old oaks canopied the walkways and the park was green, lush and gorgeously landscaped. It was a picturesque day, too - Josh and I took pictures in front of the statues and the big white fountain, explored the amphitheater and a little walled garden, and - my favorite - walked the perimeter of the park so that we could get a glimpse of all of the old, incredible, lovely houses. We gazed at them all longingly, and though I was coming down with an unfortunate head cold at this point and losing my voice, it seemed that I spent every last precious word I could speak on how beautiful each and every house was.
"Baby, oh, look at that one!"
"Oh, isn't it amazing?"
"We could buy that one... it's for sale..."
"Let's own a bed and breakfast in Savannah!"
"That... is the prettiest house I have ever seen."
"Look! Their address says 13 1/2!"
Josh said I was cute.
After Forsyth we crawled back into the car for one last adventure. Josh is really into the card game Magic, and we had seen a card shop called Savannah Comics on Friday that he felt like checking out. So after driving around and getting lost once, we found the tiny shop off Liberty Street, parked (I'd like to take the time to gloat that we did not spend a penny on parking this entire trip - HUGE accomplishment) and walked to the store. When we got there, a young man was sitting on a bench under the store awning. "It's still closed," he said. "But it should be open at one. Sometimes he's late getting here." I didn't pay much attention to the young man, and to bide time we decided to get lunch at a bustling restaurant called J. Christophers. It really seemed like the place to be! It was packed. Josh and I got seating at the front, and what I could taste of my food was good (it's dreadfully hard to taste with a stuffy nose). Blood sugar was OK last I'd checked an hour ago, I'd had an apple then and bolused and so I didn't check for lunch and bolused again. When we'd finished and paid we walked back towards the card store and found it open. We walked inside, looked around, and looked at the back, but didn't see any Magic cards; just comic books mostly. I finally saw some up front and pointed them at to Josh, all the while feeling funny.
Can't be, I thought. Just ate.
But I knew it - I noticed that I was getting better and better at sensing my body. Both lows and, recently, highs. Like, scary good. It was like a super power. And my meter confirmed it - I was dropping at 60, and madly scolded myself under my breath for not checking at lunch and for bolusing without checking while I was low!
I sighed, frustrated, and walked to the front with Josh. Finding a chair, I melted down into it, fishing a granola bar out of my bag.
"You look so excited to be here," a familiar voice said to me. I looked up to see the face of the young man that had been on the bench earlier, a small grin on his face. He was, apparently, an employee, and he was facing me from the right. I said, my voice monotone due to my being used to explaining my Diabetes to people that didn't know, or didn't care, or both; "I have low blood sugar. I'm Diabetic."
And what happened next completely shocked me. The man turned and I caught a glimpse of his left side. My mouth gaped open, because out of his pants pocket a thin, transparent tube curled and snaked up under his shirt.
"Me too." he said softly.
I was in awe. I'd never even met another Type 1 Diabetic in the "real world" before. At the endo, yeah, but never at school, or at work, or anywhere... and yet in this tiny card shop in the middle of a big city, that we had walked into by chance, here was a man who knew each and every up and down about what I went through and could name my troubles to the tee. I gazed at him, our eyes locked in understanding before we launched into conversation about what life was like with a pump, or insurance situations, stupid things people said to us, our pet peeves about Diabetes, diagnosis date, number of times in DKA, type of insulin used, etc.
"Baby! Look! He's Diabetic too," I said, turning to Josh, even happier than I had been back in the candy store.
"He is too," he man motioned to the man at the counter. "Type 2. Insulin Dependent," the man at the counter said.
Josh was so happy for me. We talked about the pump for at least a solid 30 minutes, and I truly enjoyed listening to what the young man (he was only a few years older than me) had to say about the pump, as I had never seen one in person and never talked with someone in real life about what it was like. I have to say, skeptical as I am about getting a pump, he definitely gave me a lot to think about. And more than that, I just truly felt as though this Diabetic man was a gift from god himself; one of the best things about this entire trip, in fact, and that's saying a lot.
Finally it was time to go, and we bid each other goodbye. It struck me as we were leaving the shop that I didn't even know this man's name, but it didn't matter to me and I don't think it mattered to him either. Names or no, we were kindred spirits, and this man gave me a powerful reminder that in my struggle I am never, ever alone. That God uplifts and strengthens us and never gives us more than we can handle. And I was so overcome by happiness again I felt as though I could cry tears of joy.
"It made me so happy to see how happy meeting him made you," Joshua said, and I smiled at him. "And you?" I asked him. "Are you happy? Did you have a good time on vacation?"
Josh smiled back. "The best," he said.
We spent the rest of the day braving I-16, and visiting friends in Statesboro. At around 10 PM as we left Statesboro, Joshua kindly drove the whole way back as I dozed on his lap, my cold having gotten the best of me at that point and totally knocking me out. But even the cold couldn't put a damper on my happiness, because I had visited Savannah with the man I love more than anything in the world, swam in the ocean, eaten the best piece of candy I'd ever had, gotten my fill of all the pretty sights my senses could hold, and met a person who understands everything I'm going through.
Who knows? Maybe he'll even read this someday. If not, thank you, either way. I'm so glad I met you, because you lifted a weight off my shoulders that I don't even think I'd realized I had. The weight of having never met someone with my illness, of feeling alone - that feeling isn't completely gone, but thanks to you, I don't feel so alone at all, not anymore.
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