This post is a story of living with GCA/PMR which may amuse or resonate with sufferers trying to cope with these diseases. If it won't interest you personally , or you are looking for practical, medical advice , please click to the next post , and I hope you find the help you need today.
SO! If you read and laughed at my first post on this subject , you will remember that during a storm one night , a few weeks ago, I was nearly eaten by a bin when I tried to move it and my PMR addled muscles let me down.
Now , for Chapter 2! Which I suppose should be called , " GCA/PMR!! Now I've been imprisoned by a bin!!"
Last weeks storm , kindly donated by our resident expert , Dorset Lady, aka Goddess Freyja, didn't touch the sides here , the bins didn't even grumble in their new restraints.
Flash forward to Sunday afternoon. The wind was lashing our little island in the Irish Sea, and , unbeknownst to me, the bins had not been returned to their cells after Day Release on " Bin Day".
Equally unbeknownst to me , my youngest daughter ( whom still lives with us , and is so responsible that she gained the nickname , " Grandma" at age 6!) had kindly put the washing out for me , knowing that the combination of PMR " Pollywobbles" and aching shoulders makes this impossible for me. There was no wind when she did it , then her, and her Father , left for a day of wheelchair basketball ( she is an able bodied player in a local team) oblivious of what was to come.
Back to the afternoon, our makeshift windspeed monitor , the letterbox , was complaining violently that it will send a strongly worded letter to," The Times" , a measure that things are bad. I popped into the kitchen , having not previously noticed the washing swinging on the line , Brain Fog is a Powerful thing!
In despair, I looked out and saw half a load of washing hanging precariously by one peg above a muddy lawn and a number of my socks and comfy , " Brigitte Jones" pants ( not pretty but practical with a fluctuating Pred Waistline) dancing in the wind or stuck on various walls and bushes.
My first instinct was to hide under a blanket and forget about it , but knowing how hard it is with PMR to do a wash once , let alone twice , I decided to see if I could brave the wind and rescue my underwear. Let's face it, if a pair of those knickers escapes they are big enough to engulf the head of a passing sheep and cause chaos in the neighbouring field!
But , all my thoughts were quickly brought to an end. I discovered that I couldn't even leave the house! The various bins had coralled the back door menacingly and would not let me out. One bin stood right outside the back door, turned at a slight angle , staring , like it meant business. Another had wedged itself against the gate to the drive banning entry from the front of the house.
I even thought I would be sneeky and evade capture by using the French Windows .
But No! Thanks to a very tiny key and an unoiled lock ( I will have to remember to get Grandma on that one!) , and , that annoying lack of hand strength and fumbling fingers that can come with Pred and PMR , it's too stiff to move , all I can do is watch my knickers swinging in the breeze.
I suppose I could have tried to tackle the Leader of the Bins . So named as since the last attack it still sports a Sharpie penned sign stating , " Bin of Doom" ( goodness knows what the binmen think!) However, after it nearly successfully ate me the last time my PMR weakened body got caught in its open jaws , and you kindly forum members gave me the good advice to steer well clear, I did as I was told and , " Left Well Alone"!!
My underwear was left flying the flag for the UK on an ornamental cherry tree , and, other pairs flew on the wing as a possible threat to local wildlife.
None of this would have been a problem before GCA/ PMR. Even if a bin tried to eat me ( and they had twice before PMR) at least I was able to get myself out of it easily without causing me three days of pain . Gone are those Heady Pre GCA/ PMR Days of Summer!
I couldn't even go and buy some milk and console myself with a cup of coffee . As " Grandma" had done her usual trick of forcing her Father to lock the front door for my own protection ( Clearly she fears I will face invasion when left home alone by some passing travelling demon circus or marauding Welsh dragon!) And Brain Fog meant I forgot were I had put my keys!!
So , yesterday , it wasn't just GCA turning me into a , " Shut In" it was my Family as well!!
Final insult. It started hailing , raining , snowing , everything!!
Happy travels to those Forum Folks whose Families and Storm Gareth will allow to leave the house alone.
And don't forget .... Bins Can Kill!!
Keep warm , keep strong , keep GCA/ PMR Healthy , hugs , Bleary-eyed aka Bee xx
UPDATE / PS : 13 / 3 / 2019 , 5.30PM. If you are reading this message and you have come to the post late. It's a couple of days etc. since I posted this story and I hope anybody who wanted to make replies or give me kind thanks for this story have had chance to leave me a message. If you haven't done so yet , dont add a comment in replies if that's ok as the thread has got quite long now but please message me in Chat / PM instead from now on , then new posts can get their much needed attention and it will help all the Ambassadors / Administrators in their work. Thanks folks , and remember .... Bins can kill!!
x
Managing even more stress when I have GCA
Hi i have been treated for PMR for nearly 3 years now and I am 47
