“It doesn’t look as bad as I thought.” She tried to tell
herself. She wasn’t convincing anyone, 160ft is 160ft no matter how much you
try to tell yourself it isn’t.
Looking back, the events of the day are already a blur due
to me disassociating for a lot of it, so I have to say a huge thanks to my
friends who came along and filmed/photographed my terrifying experience!
It wasn’t until hours after the jump and I was safely sat
on my friends’ sofa tucking into Chinese and guzzling wine that it dawned on
me, the bungee jump could be a metaphor for my critical illness journey. What?
I know…bear with me. Let me explain and take you through it in stages.
On arrival I didn’t feel too bad, my stomach was in knots
as can be expected but despite knowing what I was about to do I felt okay.
Then I saw the crane.
It’s about this time I tried to convince myself that it
doesn’t look as bad as I thought. Yeah right! So in metaphor land, the crane was
me noticing my first symptoms. Trying to act all relaxed but thinking “What the
hell??” Filling the agreement and insurance form in during registration was
tricky due to my hands now shaking. Those who read my earlier piece about
living with Hypothyroidism will possibly remember one of my first symptoms was
hand tremors. So it was quite apt that this was also my first visible symptom
of fear.
The hand tremors increased the closer I got to the front of
the queue, my legs decided to join in as well as they felt left out. The
logical side of my brain was watching everyone else jumping before me and
kindly still trying to convince me “it doesn’t look too bad, you’re safe, and it
will be over in another ten minutes” etc. etc. The emotional side had
disassociated by now and we were no longer on speaking terms. Finally, I’m at
the front of the queue, it’s me next. I have the harness around my ankles, a
back-up around my waist and suddenly I feel calm. This is the calm before the
storm, it’s all suddenly surreal and dream-like.
Sitting in the cage I’m aware that Dan (staff) is speaking to me and I sort of recall what
he’s saying but I couldn’t give you a word by word transcript. The cage begins
its ascent. This is the stage of my journey where I’m having tests and blood is
being drawn from me like the vampire population have a shortage. This is the
stage of not knowing, something is definitely wrong but what?
I’m aware Dan is still speaking to me; logical brain is
sort of paying attention but is now also not on speaking terms with me. Emotional
brain currently hates me and is observing how angry, amazing the wind sounds up
here. Even the elements are telling me I’m crazy!
I was trying to remember the advice from one of my
favourite bands, Artmagic, when they sing ‘Don’t look up, don’t look down’ but
failed. My eyes involuntarily flicked down. Oh dear, breathe, remember to
breathe! It sounds like a cliché but as I stepped up to the edge everything
happened in slow motion, it was a suspended (no pun intended) reality. I can’t
recall experiencing disassociation before and it’s an odd thing to describe.
Words that come to mind are surreal, numb, emotionless, and empty. It
wasn’t me who stood on that edge and let themselves drop, no idea who it was
but I wasn’t there at this point. So in my journey metaphor, this is the doctor
giving me the test results and me being stunned with the news that I now have a
critical illness for life. I was numb, had no idea what was really going on,
what did it mean? All I could do was trust and let myself free fall. This is
what I did.
Oh my god! That was the fastest I have ever travelled! The
video doesn’t do the height or the speed of the fall justice. I never want to go that fast again. I was
brave and kept my eyes open, the sight of people below getting bigger and the
ground hurtling towards me was suddenly halted as the cord grabbed me, stopped my
decent and bounced me back into the air again. A brief moment of relief that
disappeared as I blinked, I was falling again. The world spun around fast as I
bounced up and down for what felt like an eternity. The fall fits in with
getting diagnosed. I had to trust, let it take me where it wanted to, I wasn’t
in control my thyroid and the doctors were. I had no idea what was going on,
what was happening and where I would end up. The journey was by no means over.
“Please be over, please be over, let it end” are words I
was thinking, whether they came from logical or emotional brain I can’t tell
you. Probably both! I still felt numb,
empty and was still experiencing the process in a trance. Suddenly
everything slowed down, I and everything around me was silent and still.
A hand. I saw a hand! I instinctively reached for it and
suddenly the grounds staff had me! As I was being lowered onto the safety mat
and they began to un-hock me the sounds gradually crept back in, the whirring
of the crane, the music from the registration/photo tent, people talking, a
lovely member of staff telling me I was great, relax, it’s all done now. Not
the wind, the wind had given up screaming at me as I dropped off the platform.
I’m aware I have to move along for the next person to land, even though the
staff told me I was allowed to lie there as long as I needed. Logical brain was
back and saying just move! So I got myself up, thanked the staff and went shakily
to find my photos with my friends who were beaming at me. Emotional brain still
had her back to me.
Metaphorically this bit of the journey is when I discovered
I wasn’t alone. As I looked into my illness by reading books and online
searches, I came across Thyroid UK, Facebook groups, Twitter pages and
bloggers. This was the relief that there are those who went before me and
landed and there will be ones who fall after me. We’re all in this together.
So back on the ground and a few minutes have passed. It did
take a while for me to be fully back in my body, I had to sit down and compose
myself. I’m aware I was babbling to my friends, like before I can’t tell you
what I was saying! Logical brain was back in control as I went to get the
photos and t-shirt. The photos aren’t my most majestic and don’t think they’ll
use them on publicity posters!
This is where I am now. I’ve faced the fear, tumbled
through the air, had no clue and am now feeling more in control (as much as I
can!) back on the ground. I have hypothyroid, I know what it is, what I can do
to help myself more, steps I can take if symptoms flare-up. I know there
are people out there I can contact if I need support.
Would I do another bungee jump? NO! Absolutely not, it was
the most terrifying experience of my life to date. I’m proud of myself and glad
I can say I did it, but I did not enjoy any of it. Except for the staff! The
staff were amazing, their people skills, organisation and attention to detail
were spectacular.
Plus, not to forget the main reason I did it, I’m not sure
on an exact total yet but I’ve raised at least £300 for Thyroid UK. Hopefully, that will double as the company I work or do a charity £4£ scheme. So that
makes it all worthwhile!
Has emotional brain recovered? Yeah, she’s talking to me again;
I did have to bribe her though by promising the next thing I book will be a spa
day!
