First Week.

I am exhausted. Exhilarated. Empowered. Overwhelmed. Refreshed. Busy. Joyful.
The first few days of PT school have been a whirlwind. From day 1, we hit the ground running, and I feel as though I have been flooded with a wealth of information. My mind expands to envelop new knowledge every day, and it startles me both at how much there is to learn and what the mind is capable of doing.
It is enough to make me feel like it is too much to handle, but I know that I can achieve getting through graduate school. My typical day involves waking up at 6, getting ready, leaving for 7 at school, getting there early before class at 8. Changing between lab clothes and professional clothes, scrubs and tennis shoes, spending hours in class and tons of extra hours in anatomy lab is all part of daily life now. I assume the responsibility as best I can because I know that it is what I need to do to achieve.

I feel as though I am refining my life to live for others, and this is both a worthwhile task, a great honour and a huge responsibility.
I feel passionate for what I have chosen to do because I am surrounded by so many others who love their career. In the last few days I have learned so much more about Physical Therapy, the human experience, and what it truly means to better life through movement. I have learned about the goals I need to perfect and refine, I have learned how far I have to go and I have set myself to the task as best I can. In the last few days I have learned the power of preparation, calendar usage and I have tightened control of my Diabetes. My sugar has not been over 200 once in 2 days which is a big accomplishment for me, as in the past I would usually slip up at least once a day. I am very proud of this control and feel glad to be in a career that encourages my own wellness as much as it encourages the wellness of others. I feel like Physical Therapy is the perfect reflection of what I aspire to be both for others and for myself. I want to be a role model to my patients and to individuals in general that you can live a healthy, well life in spite  of the many obstacles you will face. You have to assume the task with passion, diligence and patience. Sometimes you will fail, but you always have to try to succeed. If I can do this for myself, I know that I will be able to help inspire others to do so, too.

Just wanted to write something short and sweet for now - let you guys know that I'm alive (haha), I have very little free time and it's back to anatomy studying. But I'll write more this weekend.
Until then!

P.S. I added a poetry section  on the "pages" tab! Do check it out. I'll update with more poems periodically.

Graffiti, New Coffee Shops and In-Depth Metaphors Involving Clothing: Just a Typical Sunday in Atlanta

It's an overcast Sunday here in the Southern Apple, and I am spending my last Sunday of true freedom (I can't really count next week since orientation starts Thursday) relaxing as much as I can. When I first came to Atlanta, I worried a little that it would take a long time to actually train my brain into thinking that was home. It's weird - you spend the last 3 years of your life driving up and down the same stretch of interstate, and it doesn't know quite how to respond when you transplant home 70 miles north off the same interstate, in a place you frequent so much for work but have lived so long never staying in, only at few-hour intervals at a time in the past. It's difficult to quite transplant what I mean by that. Every time I go to Macon now, it feels like home, but it's not. Every time I go to Atlanta, it feels like home now also, but it still feels weird, like I'm wearing this beautiful new outfit that I only tried briefly in the store. Now I'm trying it on in my own mirror at home and I'm questioning if I really like it or not. Should I return it? Well, I took the tag off, so now I can't. I'll have to learn to love it.
That was the most in-depth metaphor about clothing, I know. Haha.

The main thing is, Atlanta amazes me every time I step outside my door. I'm all of 10 minutes from downtown, and even in a small radius, there seem to be dozens of EVERYTHING. A dozen coffee shops to try. (I've been to 3 so far and love them all). A dozen krogers. Farmer's markets. Libraries. Don't even get me started on restaraunts. Or parks! Coming from Macon, it amazes me that I was able to amuse myself with the one or two varieties of everything there. Even coming from Orlando, I guess you would think that I should be more used to it, but I have always lived in suburbs away from the city, really. I guess I had never really developed a taste for trying all of the different things in Orlando,  due to my younger age while living there. I seem to have developed this insatiable appetite for exploration of all things new in my college years especially. That, and I naturally think that growing up in orlando made me somewhat immune to the large amount of "everything" there also.
The two cities also just have completely different vibes. Atlanta is VERY different from Orlando. Downtown is bigger. The culture and art here, astonishing. Even the different cultures of the neighborhoods, like East Atlanta and Cabbage town, amazes me. There are subcultures everywhere.

I think that's why I'll like it here. There is something in atlanta for everything, and the fact that everyone expresses themselves so differently makes you feel so welcome to express yourself. Your own style, your own mannerisms. Do your own thing - you are welcome here. I missed in macon the feeling of being able to lose yourself in the big city - how warmly alone you can feel in the crowd, the privacy it affords. You can go through life here surrounded by huge crowds, and yet you are in yohr own little world because everyone else is in theirs. In macon, everyone new everyone. This was novel and new at first, but I'm not so sure now that my city-raised self truly liked this or not.

Despite the overwhelming new-ness that has me reeling still, though, I do feel that I am integrating into city life very well, for a once-city-then-small-town-thrown-into-a-huge-city-alone girl. It's strange, because my transit to Macon was softened due to my knowing a lot of people closely before and while moving there. Here, wesleyan has pulled through for me because I do have some friends and a few from macon here and there, but aside from them and my roommate, this place is truly new and I am more alone here than I've ever been. It is up to me to shape my new life, but I am up for the challenge. I am a woman with many weaknesses, but I am also a woman who knows her strengths. My ability to find contentment in the littlest of things, passion for adventure, ability to be both introverted and extroverted as the need requires and, ultimately, my ability to take everything set before me in stride enable me to start paving the road of my new life brick by shining beautiful brick, and I foresee a long, lovely road will arise from my journey, complete with dozens of beautiful scenic outlooks. It is simply my nature, and so I know that God has prepared me for this newest journey so fully and perfectly that I no longer doubt myself or doubt things for a moment. In fact, I almost feel bad for worrying about this move so much. Why did I ever doubt that God knew exactly how things would work and fall perfectly into place? Why did I doubt that Atlanta wouldn't be the perfect place to call home after all the hints he dropped that it would be, and all the opportunities he gave me with my work traveling to slowly become used to the city? God knew exactly what he was doing, and all of the struggles I have faced up to this point... the struggles even this year alone... and yes, my struggle with Diabetes, have done a beautiful thing:

They have strengthened me, made me aware of my weakness and humanity, and taught me what my strengths are. They have showed me my own unique purpose and callings. Given me passion and a platform to stand on. Taught me lessons in overcoming what felt like, at times, the impossible. Showed me that god pulls us through even the darkest of dark. Showed me how to love live even with the inevitable darkness that colours life and, hell, that life isn't complete without that darkness, just as it needs the light. Behold, I have become this strong, independent, driven, infinitely passionate, art-craving, knowledge-thirsty, humanity - loving woman prepared for everything to come, even the challenges I haven't met with yet. And how does Atlanta help? Atlanta is a fresh start, and it also fuels my passion for finding the potential and new experiences that will help me to achieve new heights. I see it everywhere: I see it as I sit in the coffee shop writing this, reading the little quotes stuck on the windows, I see it on quiet Sunday mornings as I pay bills and answer emails, as I traverse piedmont park, and successfully navigate through the vast bustle of the city.

Potential is everywhere, and I have never felt it so strongly. And truly, when the world is at my fingertips and I'm so very aware of it... what is to stop me now?

Today, I am thankful for my strength, and simply thankful for life. I'm thankful for the lessons Diabetes has taught me, the sketchy alleyways of the city, and birthday parties I do in trailers in the middle of pecan groves (more on that later), I'm thankful for the towering skyscrapers, good coffee, wearing skirts for no reason, and for good music. How can one person be so overjoyed and filled with love for everything that is life, the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful?

It's all so beautiful to me, and the ability to see that beauty in everything is what I am thankful for the most.

P.s. and I'm thankful because I FINALLY successfully parallel parked! (Don't make fun of me, it's not required on the FL driving test).

Savannah Trip Part 3 - Finis

Sunday. Our last day in Savannah.

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. 

Savannah Trip - Part Two!

The next morning, after sleepily crawling downstairs to the continental breakfast, accidentally almost setting the toaster on fire (How was I supposed to know that you can't put a whole bagel in those open faced toasters?!) and knocking over the serving spoons (I blame my clumsiness on the Diabetes) I scurried back to the room and Josh and I got all our day stuff together to go to Tybee Island.

Note to self: DO NOT WAIT UNTIL GETTING TO THE BEACH TO PUT TANNING OIL OR SUNSCREEN ON. The design of your shirt will be seared onto your body if you are fair-skinned.

Joshua and I loaded our bags with towels, drinks, 4 different "in case of low" snacks, suntan oil, and changes of clothes. The drive to Tybee took about 40 minutes and was pretty stop-and-go. There was a lot of traffic, but I had to admit it was pretty picturesque to see the marshes and the gorgeous blue sky - especially after days of rain back in Macon.

When we got to Tybee we were greeted, as my grandma stated quite literally, by "the land of the endless parking meters". We drove for at least an hour trying to find parking, failed, and had to drive about 1-2 miles out to the post office just to find an empty space. On the bright side, we were treated to the tour of local houses and hangouts... on the bad side, gas was $3.30. And we didn't escape the lengthy sojourn to the beach once we parked either... then, the hike began. Part of me thinks the 12 miles hike up the mountain that year at Summer camp was easier. We could only carry the necessities in my purse, and we kept walking, and walking, and walking, trying to tell ourselves that lunch and the beach was "right around the next corner", or the next, the next, the next.... there were no shady trees, no soothing bird tweets, no trickling creeks. Oh no. Pavement, searing sunlight, traffic, and don't forget those parking meters.

Suddenly all of me shook, and I tested, blearily seeing the 36 mg/dL on the screen, peeling away the granola bar wrapper, eating it in about 1.5 bites and stumbling on, leaning on Josh for support. The cognitive thought in my head faded, replaced by zombie-mode. My "beach, beach, beach" chant echoing in my head soon turned into "lunch, lunch, lunch", and it must have been thirty minutes later - but really felt like two hours in "Tybee time" and a miniature downpour - that we finally made it to a restaurant. I told Josh, out of desperation, that I would literally eat at the first restaurant I saw that was at least semi-reputable looking. So we ate there. I don't remember the name, I remember it being overpriced and tiled like my old house back in Sanford, but the food was pretty OK and it did the trick. I didn't feel shaky anymore, probably because I ordered a salad and ended up eating half of Josh's steak fries when I tested and saw that I was still at 50, and we proceeded on towards the beach from there. As soon as we reached the sand we shed our shoes and set out under the pier and to our left in order to find a less overcrowded plot of sand on which to lay our bag.

So far our trip seems like it might have been miserable, but don't get me wrong. The moment my feet touched the sand, it was all totally worth it.

We found a place, which was amazing considering Tybee was the most crowded beach I'd ever seen (I guess in FL we have a lot larger of a choice), and we wasted no time in shedding our shirts and pants and running to the water. The water was incredible! It was warm, and salty, and pure perfection. Back at home it always seemed like the water was too cold (I'm a wimp when it comes to cold water, yeah), but here it was just right. Like, wow. Josh and I laughed and ran and tripped and dove into the waves, swimming out and making a game of leaping over the waves as they charged toward us, threatening to drag us back towards shore and sometimes sending us tumbling underwater and scrambling to hold onto our bottoms. The day passed away while we screamed and paddled and vigilantly watched our bag from the water, and I felt like a little kid again.

When we had swallowed enough salt water to pickle us, we breaked for a good half hour in the sand, digging sandcastles with our bare hands and haphazardly remembering to apply some bit of tanning oil (mistake, mistake, mistake). Halfway before building the pyramid of giza-great moat of China hybrid, we decided to run back into the water and played in the waves more before packing up our things once again and starting the hike back to the car. And an uncomfortable hike it was! I had been spoiled from years of seeing showers to bathe in on the beach docks, and there was not a shower to be found anywhere on Tybee. No lie, Josh and I both would have probably paid for a shower and we were seriously considering foregoing the consequences of using someone's hose in order to avoid the sandy, salt-sticky walk back.
When we were almost there, we stopped in a beach store to enjoy the AC and grab some fresh T-Shirts, and Josh went ahead of me to get the car. I caught glimpse of myself in a mirror and to my not-so-surprised horror saw that I was unevenly sunburned. By that I mean, the mother of all sunburns. As in, I was wearing a crochet top and the design of the crochet was burned into my skin. In short, my skin somewhat resembled a doily. Le sigh. I can't get a pretty tan for the life of me.

We began the long sojourn back, stopping at Sonic for some mega-huge drinks before going back to the hotel, where we freshened up, complained about our sunburns, applied aloe, repeated the word "ouch" a lot, and finally crawled painfully back into the truck, with our tender red skin, to go back into the city and get some dinner. It took forever... we drove around again for an hour looking for parking, as apparently Savannah on a Saturday night was THE place to be. But we got some great views of the city that we had missed Friday. We saw more churches, town squares, Paula Dean's restaurant, theatres...it was stunning to see the eclectic mix of old and new, and the ever-constant thrum of pure life that pulsed like a heartbeat throughout the city. People were everywhere, tourists, locals, dressed-to-the-tee's, photographers, hipsters, rednecks. I loved it all and took in every moment of it.

When we finally did hunt down a spot next to a cozy looking cafe by the intersection of Hull and Bull Street (easy to remember), we walked around for a good while, and couldn't seem to decide where to eat. We actually just ended up eating at the same place we had for lunch the first day because we thought it was so good! I was ravenous - we ate nachos and queso, Josh had another parmesan chimichanga (we aren't creatures of habit at all...), and I had a huge serving of chicken, my fries replaced with veggies. BG had held pretty steady since the beach and I was cruising at around 150, but was careful to give myself plenty of insulin to cover the chips so as to try and not get off track. After dinner, we walked down River Street again, spent some time listening to another one of the 4th of July bands until the bugs ate at us too much, and then journeyed back across Bay Street and onwards to check out the squares we had missed earlier.

It was fantastic --- we looked at booths full of beautiful things for sale, witnessed a proposal in the middle of a streetside concert, and I happily dragged Joshua back into a Candy Shop (conveniently enough they were all over Savannah!) to indulge in a treat of my choosing. I was literally as happy as a kid in a... well, candy store! (What is it about candy that makes people so... happy?) I had such a hard time choosing what I wanted! This was such a treat for me --- I told myself that, for tonight, I could pick anything I wanted, no blood sugar-strings attached. Tonight, I was just Lacy. Not Diabetic Lacy. Just me.

Josh picked a candy apple, and I ended up picking a single piece of Butterfinger Bark. I carried it like a treasure through the streets of Savannah, until we got back to the car. It was drizzling lightly, but instead of being annoying I felt as though the mist added yet another tinge of magic to this magical, magical city. As we drove back to the hotel, I closed my eyes and tried a piece of my candy, which melted on my tongue in the most amazing burst of flavor. The day in the sun, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the joy of today, and even the Butterfinger Bark...

It took me away from life and from the everyday, from the ins and outs, the drags of Diabetes, everything -
Nevermind the insulin pen in my stomach as I dutifully bolused. In that moment, it was Joshua and I, and we weren't sad with troubles, or weighed down from the world, I wasn't Diabetic -

No. We were simply, truly, oh so very, very happy, and it is a memory I will treasure always. 

And The Score Is... Diabetes: 1 Lacy: 0

The Kuckuck family (and friends) have a new adventure this Summer, and that is to keep Lucas Murphy, our visiting friend, entertained!

With that said, we took the opportunity this Tuesday to go hiking up in Jackson at Dauset Trails and High Falls. We headed out to High Falls first, packing all 6 of us into my truck (it was a tight fit). We blared Ke$ha and Mike Sparrow on the way, driving through back country roads that must have been hardly even a thought on the map. When we reached Dauset Trails, we were greeted by well-manicured lawns and beautiful forested acreage winding through tiny creeks, spacious ponds and colorful flower gardens. It was a beautiful sight! We found parking in the shade and walked over a covered bridge to the Guest Center, signed in, then went off to see the animals. I'd packed a few snacks just in case of a low for the trail - one of those cute little peach flavored Buddy Fruits that Kelle had gotten for me in Auburn (she'd raved about them and said I had to try one) and cereal. Except the cereal wasn't exactly a snack for a low, more of just a snack for enjoyment... I knew cereal was bad for my blood sugar, but they were Recees Puffs, and I'd always had a weakness for those! I munched on Recees Puffs as we walked past the animal cages, gazing at owls with big wide eyes, cougars, bears, racoons, bison and more. I gave some Recees Puffs to a couple of baby geese as a peace offering and got to pet them in exchange for the treat (much to the protests of the mother geese watching over them). I took this time to check my blood sugar under a shady picnic table, and frowned in dismay when I learned that my blood sugar was 403 - apparently, I'd been eating way more cereal then I'd thought. In rage I dialed in 6 units of Novolog (1 unit for ever 50 mg/dL I want to bring down). This turned out to be a mistake....

We walked around some more and then packed ourselves back into the car and drove onwards down little High Falls Road to High Falls. Once there, we all grabbed a water bottle and walked across the road to the trail head. I loved it here. Joshua and I had visited for Valentine's Day one year, and it had been one of my favorite dates. I've always had a fond spot for nature, and I loved the opportunity that living in Georgia gave me to hike through such beautiful landscapes. Rocky outcroppings, huge boulders and hiking trails shaded by thick canopies of green, all bordered by the rushing noise of the river right next to where we walked enveloped me in a serene state of mind. I felt as if I could go on walking forever.

We did walk for a long time. We climbed up rocks, took photos next to the waterfall (hence the name High Falls), and walked over wooden bridges. It felt like Summer camp 4 years ago, up in North Carolina where Joshua and I had met for the first time. This was bliss.

We stopped at a group of huge boulders, which everyone climbed up to take more photos. I planned on going up but stopped, noting my hummingbird heartbeat and clammy, shaking hands. I sighed and dropped to my knees, pulling my meter out of my bag, not panicking as I knew I still had my snack in my bag. I tested. 50.

Crap, I thought. I'd given myself too much insulin. "You should have asked me," Josh said. He was right - I should have. Josh doesn't have Diabetes but I sometimes asked him for advice on how much insulin I should give myself - his more logical side makes him a very good advice giver when it comes to what is and isn't a practical bolus. Sometimes I get so caught up in the numbers that I forgot to think, "Hey, I shouldn't give myself this much insulin because I'm about to go run a marathon." Hence where Joshua comes in. My ratio being 1u/50mgdL, I gave myself 6 units which would have been perfect under normal conditions. If I'd have asked Joshua, he could have stopped me and pointed out that we were hiking up hills and what might has well been similar to mountains. I should have given myself 5, probably 4. I would have walked off the rest of the high. But I had been mad at the 400 and just wanted it to go down. Stupid. I sat on a rock, feeling poorly now, and ate my Buddy Fruit (thanks Kelle - you saved my life!)  I rested for a bit before pressing on at full speed ahead, determined to show Diabetes that it didn't stop me or hold me back in anyway.

I could have (and wanted to) go further, but everyone else voted to turn around and Josh pointed out that if I got low it wouldn't be the most fun experience for him to have to carry me back. So we turned back and walked to the beginning of the trail head. I felt fine for most of the trip, but at the very end going up the wooden stairs I could hardly make it up. I flashbacked to all those years of gymnastics, where my muscles used to get so fatigued after constant conditioning that it felt as if I could hardly move them anymore. I felt like that now. It was hard to command my legs to move. We made it back to the car. The world was buzzing. I tested. 49. I was spinning. My breaths came out in shallow little gasps. My tongue felt heavy and thick and speaking was difficult. My heart raced, and I could hardly move my arms and legs. They felt like 200 lbs each. I sat in the car and we drove and stopped at a gas station. Joshua went in and got me snacks and an Italian Ice. I ate, but it took me a long time to feel better and work off the low. I was drenched in sweat, my back cold. We stopped for pizza in Barnesville on the way home, and finally made it back. My blood sugar was 310 now. I sighed. Could I ever win, or would my blood sugar always be a battle between one extreme or the other? It frustrated me. So much rested on my success or failure in managing my Diabetes - my future health wasn't something I wanted to play around with, but at times it seemed like Diabetes just liked to play around with me.

I hate the roller coaster that my blood sugar can be sometimes. It just plain sucks. I guess Diabetes had gotten the best of me this time. Next time, though, I'm determined to have the upper hand...

This Weekend Brought To You By ... Caffeine

Hi everyone! I'd like you all to just assume that I posted this immediately after the Fourth instead of two weeks late. Truthfully this post has been sitting in my draft box for precisely that amount of time but I just haven't had the brain power to sit down and fully apply myself to writing. So with this brief intro, I continue into what my post would have been like if I had actually posted it on time:

Happy belated 4th of July, all! I hope that everyone reading this (as well as the ones that don't) had a fantastic day and weekend. Josh and I headed back to Forsyth, GA (about 20 miles North of Macon) to see the family for 4th of July. What a crazy trip! Josh works across the street from his apartment complex and has the strangest hours. His shift Saturday was from 6pm to 2am. I didn't manage to get to sleep so while he was away at work I cleaned and packed everything (all while taking advantage of Netflix for all it's worth... and conversely not being nearly as productive as I could be). After Joshua returned we watched another movie, finished loading up the truck, and headed off to Forsyth bright and early at 5am, fresh coffee sitting in the cup holder. I was honestly surprised I was still awake. Anyone that knows me well can vouch that I am not a morning person and that I do not function well without a decent night's sleep.

The trip from Statesboro to Forsyth on I-16 is incredibly boring. I-16 drives through such the middle of nowhere that you don't even see any cows. Just fields... and trees... and flat land. Exits with one run-down gas station at them. Thankfully, though, Joshua keeping me company in the car made the 2 hour trip go by so much faster, even if the FM transmitter for the iPod was being a butt and deciding not to work. Coein, Joshua's beagle, also decided that he wanted to drive halfway through the trip. He forgot that he was not invisible as he attempted to crawl into my lap and see over the steering wheel. We did finally make it to Forsyth in one piece at around 7:10 am, where I grabbed more coffee from the coffee pot and was informed that we would be attending church that morning at 10am. No rest for the weary...

I hopped in the shower to rinse off and wake myself up, and slipped on a clean white dress. Thank goodness for foundation to cover up the circles that must have lurked under my eyes! I spent so much time getting ready though that I went running to the kitchen right before we left, and remembered, "Oh hey, I'm Diabetic." I tested my BG and find that it was at 69 and falling. I threw some cereal into a measuring cup and, from there, into the bowl and poured in some milk. Breaking the record for "fastest time to ever inhale cereal" I was finally ready to go and hopped into the car with everyone else, a can of Diet Coke in hand to tide me over and keep my eyes open.

The Church we were going to was called Rock Springs Church and was located in Jackson, GA, about 20 miles up I-75 and through a great deal of corn fields. As we neared the Church, we were greeted by a sign that read "Rock Springs Church: The Perfect Place for People Who Aren't." When we arrived, Jake and I were grouped into the college study group and Marleigh into the High School group. Not wanting Marleigh to have to be alone, however, we recruited her and all made our way into study. All of us ended up feeling very young. The youngest people there in the "college group" seemed to be a married couple in their 30's. It hit me about 8 minutes in that I was exhausted. I hated to be so impolite - especially in Church and my first time there as a guest, for that matter - but try as I could, I could not keep my eyes open as I sat there, unable to remain awake. I spent the next hour drifting in and out of sleep and woke with a final start when study group was over. Flashing an apologetic look at our study group leader, we made our way out the door and into worship service in the main hall. 

Rock Springs Church was amazing. (More on it in a further post.)

After Church we planned to go back to Forsyth and grill hamburgers. However, Laurie "Mamabird", Josh's mom, got a call from a friend who invited us to come down to her cabin in Juliette, Ga, for hamburgers and a swim in the Ocmulgee River. 

What a surprise we had waiting for us! 

We arrived at a huge multistory cabin on the banks of the Ocmulgee River and Juliette Falls. Brandy, Laurie's friend who invited us over, led us on a trek down to the falls to see the incredible view. The water was full of visitors fishing, swimming, and just enjoying the sights. 

It was a hot day and we couldn't wait to get into the water. The hot trek through the sun was making me low, though, and after touring the falls, we filed back to the cabin and had lunch. Pepper bacon, hamburgers, sausage, chicken, green beans and watermelon awaited us. We took our watermelon outside to enjoy on the porch as we gazed at the river. Stomachs full, we changed into our bathing suits and trodded across the yard down to the river bank. Down a pair of rickety metal steps, we descended down to the water and cast off our shoes on a sandy outcropping. I dipped my foot in the water and sighed. "Oh, it feels so good!" I exclaimed. I grabbed the rope and eased myself into the current. We spent the next couple of hours swimming in the river, climbing over rocks, and digging our toes in the sand. I even found an old tooth that belonged to some animal - it looked like a shark tooth to me!

A couple hours in and I was doing pretty okay. All of the activity had chased my tiredness away. Marleigh and I climbed back up to the cabin for more hamburgers, swimming having given us a huge appetite. Soon everyone came back inside as grey clouds rolled in, thunder boomed, and the wind picked up. We talked and lounged as the rain pattered down and soon it was time to leave. I got progressively more exhausted. Laurie, Joshua, Marleigh and I decided to go over to Marleigh and Josh's Aunt Tonya's house near Jackson, GA. A little unsure of the way, we drove down rural quiet roads until we finally made it to the house, stopping at a gas station on the way to pick up some Diet Coke AKA caffeine.

We spent a few hours at Tonya's. We talked out on the back porch, and all the girls painted their nails. I downed two cups of coffee. Finally though, the caffeine could only do so much. I'd have had to start chugging Monsters by the six pack just to maintain coherency for much longer. I begged utter and complete exhaustion and we left for home. On the way back, we saw fireworks exploding in bursts of beautiful color in the night sky over the tree tops. It was quite a sight on those quiet country roads, the fireworks soaring towards the sky to join the stars. I recollected all the times I had seen the incredible and expensive firework shows at Disney but somehow, the quaint and stark beauty of these fireworks stood out as even more lovely to me. We parked the car and stopped on the side of the road to gaze at them, even though I protested at first because I was absolutely exhausted - up 36 hours and counting! I was very glad we stopped to see the fireworks but happy to get home quickly when they were over. Unfortunately, as my rotten luck would have it, home turned out to be farther away than we thought, afterwards, when we were stopped on the road by a police officer who told us that we had to sit and wait until all of the thousands of people at the baseball fields drove out of the field from seeing the fireworks. "Please..." I moaned as he left the car window and walked away. "Just take out your gun and shoot me right now, in the face." It was ridiculous. We waited close to 30 minutes, traffic completely backed up.

Finally, though, we made it home. I was grateful for the copious amounts of caffeine that I had downed for the last 36 hours in order to remain awake, but goodness! A bed had never felt so good. In fact, I don't think a floor could have felt much better. At that point, it didn't matter to me where I slept. I had the best night's sleep I'd had in a long time.