As , I am writing this little tale of woe to amuse us all , fellow PMR/GCA sufferers can be happy in the knowledge that your friend Bleary-eyed has not met her demise from ,
" Death by Dustbin".
( Any forum members that had a part in a plan to dispose of me neatly in a bin and send me off to the local rubbish dump will have to sigh with disappointment however , your evil plan has been foiled!)
"So how did this happen I hear you say?".
" Typical , Bee!" I hear from Yellowbluebell!
Well , it's was about 4 am , and a huge squall of wind had come up from nowhere in the middle of the night on my blustery Isle of Anglesey.
Being , as ever blighted by the insomnia that often hits us all , I had given up trying to find a comfy spot in bed , the wind was so loud that even the OH and his Darth Vader hiss from the machine he has for Sleep Aponea had been drowned out, and I had gone downstairs to have a drink and watch Netflix.
Outside , the wind was roaring , and finally , along with the familiar sounds of door rattling came a series of almighty booms and bangs. The bins had clearly began to dance in the driveway.
Now as you all know with PMR , we no longer instantly jump to attention to deal with a job that , both physically awkward and messy , could give us a day if aches and pains . So , I delayed a good half hour before the noise finally made me submit to the bins call for help.
Outside , after I had managed to drag the door open , the two bins were battering the walls and gate from the floor with very vocal , chattering lids and some of the contents was desperately trying to make an escape.
" Don't do it!" , warned my GCA.
"I can't leave it" , I told my PMR , " it will be worse tomorrow if I don't act now."
This was , of course , a stupid mistake.
We all know how hard it is to do this sort of emergency job when fully well. Add the stiffness and weakened muscles that the PMR can cause and tackling a job in the wind becomes a real health hazard.So , armed with wellies and steely resolve , I tried to do it anyway.
The first bin neatly dispatched to its corner I thought I was on a winner , the wind had other ideas.
As , I lifted the second bin upright , a squall of wind curled around the wall through the gate , lifted the lid from the back of the bin , lifted me ( and the bin ) off the floor and then snapped the lid firmly on top of my head.
So , there I was , now squashed between the gate and the wall , the bin lying at an unsteady angle on one wheel , me half in , half out ( like a disturbing form of bin 'Hokie Cokie') lid bashing a congratulatory dance on my back.
I tried pushing myself up off the gate but yet again , that annoying friend the PMR made a domestic job ten times harder.
Days gone by , this could have happened to any of us , and although awkward and funny , or even with the potential of the odd bruise or scrape , not exactly life threatening.
But bring on GCA/ PMR and dealing with this sort of domestic disaster is whole new bag of gumballs!
Because , apart from not having the strength to deal with jobs like this as easily as before , we are also stuck with those extra issues of trying to make sure we don't get minor injuries or have falls which, in the past , may have only given us a few days of aches , but now , with PMR could cause a few weeks of pain , a nasty set of scrapes that take a while to heal or a full on flare .
I , lopsided , being eaten by a hungry bin , had those thoughts we all do , as the wind added insult to injury and kept lifting my nightgown up with a chilly blast , how the heck am I going to do this without annoying the PMR even more.
Half of me wishing it wasn't the middle of the night so I could call for help , the other thankful no one could see what was happening , after ten minutes of careful wriggling with no result , I had begun to resign myself to the idea of " Death by Bin".
"So ", I thought , by now my temples pounding , eyes wibbling and palpitations growing, " it's come to this , I am going to be found dead by my family hanging upside down in a bin , because the blessed GCA/PMR won't let me get out again."
As ways to reach my final demise because of GCA this was certainly one that I hadn't thought of , but just like your chum Bleary-eyed , I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that my end would be unusual. I was resigned to my fate , literally , I had given up moving and just hoped I would last until breakfast. Then it started raining.
That was the last straw .
The rain and the wind and the pounding bin lid was too much!
The bin had also begun to slowly drag a route down the wall , which just about allowed me to reach one foot onto the side of the other bin , and bash my foot between my captor and the gate to get a foot hold . I knew it would hurt , but at least I wouldn't get mauled by a wall , and I sort of used the gangley leg moves of child on a space hopper to bounce the bin back up the wall to its two wheels . Releasing an arm to grab the bin lid, and push myself upright by pushing my bum against the gate. Victory ! I was Free!!
I did , take some revenge on the bin and the wind ( another reason I was glad to be without spectators , the neighbours think I am odd enough!) .
I kicked the bin very viciously with my wellies , used words ( that should only be heard by a docker!) with clenched fists whilst bouncing up and down like Yosemite Sam , I unleashed wrath , until the bin lid shouted back. I bid a hasty retreat , just in case it tried to eat me again .
So , why , in my soggy mess was I also blaming this on PMR?
It could have happened to anyone , in fact , living in a windy village it's not the first time I have nearly been eaten by a bin . PMR isn't responsible , GCA is not in charge of the weather! Not entirely ....
But I still give this disease some responsibility , because of the way it affects ME . Because of the way PMR/ GCA has changed the way I can move , how I can react to things and how much strength I have , even something as silly as nearly being eaten by a bin has reminded me just how this illness can impact on the way we have to act in all the things we do everyday. Even the most bizarre and silly ones.
But as we say on here , " this to will pass'" . I was not eaten by my bin.
I worked out a way to deal with it , I had learnt how to adapt the way I move to get the job done and not cause myself too much extra injury and pain. I rested in the right way afterwards to reduce the headache quicker than I expected . I am still alive and capable of writing this silly story today . PMR/ GCA , " up your bum!" , I have survived again!
So I wrote this to give us all a little laugh but also to remind us all that although GCA/ PMR does have an impact on every part of our lives , every day while we have it , we all have the ability to beat it in the end .
Now I am off to give my bin yet another beating with a stick.
Big hugs , and whatever tries to beat you or EAT YOU in the next few days , have a blooming good PMR/ GCA weekend .
Bee xxx
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