Hummus-Gate

Driving back from an errand last week I mulled over my options for lunch.  It not being the start of the week or the 1^st of the month, I had no real obligation to eat healthily, but I had a craving for hummus all the same.  As I would be passing a Tesco store on my way home, I made the decision to quickly pop in and grab some hummus.  And perhaps some carrot and cucumber.  Yes, that sounded rather nice. 

But as I parked the car, I suddenly felt the all too familiar contracting of my over-active bladder.  There was no way I would be able to hold it in if I exerted any pressure on it by getting my wheelchair or stick out, so I made the bold, or, in hindsight, stupid, decision to plod on without them.  With my left leg dragging behind me, I staggered my way into the store with my sights set firmly on the toilets.

Now, you’re probably thinking, popping into Tesco for some hummus and using the WC whilst there doesn’t make for a very interesting blog post.  And you’d be right.  Which is why I am now happy to share with you the drama that unfolded.  But before I do, I should mention that, despite having a most sophisticated sense of humour, watching and laughing heartily along to clips on Youtube of people falling over is a pastime that sits quite proudly on my guilty pleasure list.  You are about to witness karma unfolding in the most satisfying way.

It happened in slow motion, as such moments usually do.  My right leg moved forward.  My left leg did not.  My foot stuck fast to the floor, refusing to budge, or to lift, or even to drag.  It stayed put while the rest of my body continued to walk with an expectant movement that was very soon to be thwarted by my left side.  My body lurched forward so that I hovered horizontally in the air and lingered there until it finally gave way to gravity, and I landed, with a deafening splat, onto the hard, cold, store floor.  I lay there, with my arms outstretched and my legs pathetically flopped out behind me while my bladder did its best to ensure that the high level of embarrassment already caused would soon be outshone in style. 

Slow-motion over, I got swiftly back up with the help of a nearby shop assistant and continued on my merry way, muttering something about being fine and cursing my MS.  I made it to the toilet, albeit to clean up the sorry mess I was in.  I stood there looking in the mirror.  I had 3 options.  1) I could retrace my steps back past the witnesses to my car, with a walk that would now be more of a penguin shuffle than a stagger.  2) I could half retrace my steps, bypass the witnesses and penguin-shuffle my way to the hummus aisle, therefore achieving what I bravely set out to do.  Or, 3) I could find the nearest window, somehow throw myself out of it and hope for the best.

I decided on option 2, making sure that my handbag was positioned to maximise modesty.

If anyone reading this works at or knows someone who works at Tesco Harford Bridge, you may like to have a rummage around the CCTV footage from last Friday at around 11 am, entrance end just beyond the cigarette counter.

Perhaps footage of my own impressive fall might one day grace the screen.  I can but dream.