Extreme Sports

Today I braved a perilous and dangerous activity, one I avoid at all costs. The mention of this activity strikes fear into my heart and warning claxons loudly sound in my brain. – Standing!

I stood for half an hour. Thirty whole minutes! 1,800 seconds! (Apologies if that’s incorrect, maths was never my forte.) As every second past I could feel the toll this terrifying act took on my body. Bit by bit I fell apart.

First – nausea. Not an unusual occurrence. I had just scoffed down a big cooked dinner and a dessert. For me, nausea after a meal is to be expected. However after saying hello again to a large portion of my chocolate cherry torte I foolishly believed that would be the last of it. As I stood counting down the minutes I could feel my dinner desperately wanting to see the sunlight once more. I tried to not think of it. I was outside there was no way I could allow it to greet me once more. I wasn’t drunk enough to be sick in public. I wasn’t drunk at all, I had washed my food down with plain and simple water. I knew if I were to be sick on the ground I would never live it down and like all other elephants, it would never be forgotten.

I am thankful to say I succeeded in my mission against sickness.

Second to go were my feet. I felt the familiar dull ache that told me my day of shopping had to come to an end. Luckily the reason for my standing was waiting for a bus to take me home. I had already preempted my feet’s cruel warning.

– Hannah 1 feet 0.

However determined to even the score, my feet started playing dirty. They sent shooting pains to my ankles making them weak and it was more painful to stand. I still fancied my chances of winning this battle so I stoically stood still….I was wrong.

Fearing that I may win the match, my feet upped their game. The pain shot from my ankles up to my knees. Now, with half my body against me I knew I had to admit defeat. I waved a mental white flag and prayed my body would be merciful.

All of this happened in the first ten minutes.

I was wrong to put trust in my body. After all, when has it ever been kind?

More and more I started to resemble the haggard witch from Snow White. As my back started to give out on me I became more and more hunched over. The witch and I would have been identical apart from the absence of an apple in my hand. Probably a good thing too, with the fibro fog I’d probably forget it was poisoned and take a bite.

By the 27th minute I was on my knees, well metaphorically. If it was acceptable and not raining I probably would have chosen to sit on the floor. But chances are I wouldn’t have been able to get back up.

As pain spread to all my limbs, my back felt like it was collapsing and my dinner was ready to launch itself up my oesophagus I saw a sight more beautiful than any I had seen before this day. The bus!!! It was majestic in its blue and red glory. Never had a bus been so glorious. By minute 33 my prayers had been answered. After paying an extortionate amount for a short journey I was able to sit down.

And that dear readers is the fibro equivalent of an extreme sport.

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