::diagnosis

Before I left for Myrtle Beach, I had some blood drawn at the doctor's office.

During vacation, I received a call that my blood sugar had tested very high.

On Thursday, the doctor told me that I'm diabetic.

I knew I had risk factors (obesity, family history, etc.) , so it wasn't a complete shock, and I also know it's a very manageable condition. Also, in the grand scheme of Things That Could Be Wrong With Me, I know it's very mild.

Still, it struck me with a swift, forceful punch.

I've also been very sick for several days with some mysterious respiratory ailment, which the Dr. thought may be pneumonia, but I couldn't afford the chest X-Ray to confirm it.

Sooo...in between the coughing spells and blowing my nose every two minutes, I've had lots of time to ponder and ruminate, and I've realized that this diagnosis was one that I needed.

Whatever else it is - frightening, sad, confusing, upsetting, slightly devastating - I've decided that it's actually going to yield positive results.

I've known - and secretly wished for - a "wake-up call" for quite a while now, and a large part of me is grateful for its receipt.

The other part of me? Scared to death.

::PB + J? Sooo passé

Tonight we went out to dinner at River City Cafe.

I decided to be (uncharacteristically) adventurous.
I ordered the Peanut Butter Burger.
I was understandably apprehensive.


Guess what?
It was shockingly delicious.

::rite of passage

I don't feel small very often.

I inhabit a large body, and generally feel like a hulking behemoth in most everyday moments.

Lee Ann Womack's song I Hope You Dance, while dismissed by many as sentimental, saccharine drivel, contains a lyric that has long intrigued me.

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean...

Yesterday morning, for the very first time, I finally stood beside the ocean.




I felt small.
So very small.

And I loved it.