the human pincushion

OK. For those of you still dithering about whether or not to sponsor our intrepid group of explorers, perhaps a little background information about the hurdles we have jumped through in preparing for this gig and the risks involved in ambling up to 6,000m above sea level in 7 days will help focus your thoughts a bit.

For example, I don’t know about the others, but I have spent the last few weeks acting as a human pincushion to some psycho nurse from hell in my local doctor’s surgery. I’m now on jab 7 of 11, which I’m sure is more than you need, but as soon as she found out where I was going and when, she decided to teach me a lesson for leaving the medical side of things to the last minute. I think the highlights were the hat-trick of weekly hep b and rabies jabs, which leave me walking out of the surgery like some sort of Neanderthal man, groaning in pain with my arms dragging along the ground. And then there was the swine flu jab, which made my left arm increase to the size of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s and had me gagging for air and trying not to throw up during the Carol's uplifting management debrief later that day (nothing to do with me being sick as a parrot about the lack of pay increase this year, honest). Anyway, I’m pretty sure my body now contains tiny samples of every tropical disease known to man, so when we do meet the one rabid dog that can live at altitude, I’ll be the brave one in front trying to stave him off. Not.

There have been other hurdles too, like visiting Wales on numerous occasions to try to find a real mountain to practice on. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty enough place, but have you ever tried to eat there? I have never seen such a potentially delightful group of ingredients mixed together to taste so bad. And the locals are a bit scary too. I almost got a fake dragon tattoo last time we went just to try to fit in. And I’ll tell you this for nowt – it’s not a great place to watch the world cup. We were treated to around 70 minutes of hysterical laughter from one boyo after the USA ‘equalised’ against England. I’m so glad I wasn’t there for the Germany game – he’s probably still laughing now.

And now a quick word about the risks, and in particular the ‘big 2’, which are scarily hard to spot. Let’s start with pulmonary edema: symptoms include decreased exercise performance (well, that'll be most of us). After that you experience severe breathlessness even at rest and an inability to speak in full sentences. Which I have anyway. Sometimes. Oh, and it's more common amongst those exercising a lot in a place where it's a bit parky. Super. Finally, your lips and fingernails turn blue, your lungs crackle and your pulse races, and you die if you don't go down the big hill.

And then there's cerebral edema. First symptoms are loss of balance and coordination. Again, that’ll be hard to spot – after all, most of us, with the exception of Chris, aren’t exactly mountain goats. After that, the person may appear mildly drunk and a bit stupid (not much change from our normal behaviour there either). Then you quickly move on to hallucinations, decreased mental functioning, coma and death. So it seems like it could literally come on at any time if you're a bit clumsy and like a bevvy.

So, if all of that doesn’t persuade you to donate a few bob, perhaps it’s best to just point you in the direction of the words of the late, great Simpsons character, Maud Flanders (or was it Reverand Lovejoy’s wife?) “Will somebody please think of the children?”

Thanks!
dj