Real and Rational Fears Part I

I suppose I should really consider what could go wrong with this mad scheme of mine.  In all business manuals, health and safety documents, and lifestyle magazines they recommend you do a full risk assessment of your proposition – before starting.  Assess the job, work out what could go wrong, and plan the best way of avoiding those things going wrong; then act according to your risk assessment to minimise the risk of danger/adverse effects.

In other words, look at the box you want to shift.  Can you avoid the task? Assess its weight, shape and size, before you touch it.  Look at where you want to take it.  Use safety equipment where possible to minimise the risk of injury.  Plan your task.  Action it.  Review it.

Ok, so perhaps this is a bit extreme – but then for me, it’s an extreme thing I’m going to do.  So here goes:

1)      Look at what I’m going to do.  Can I avoid it?  YES OF COURSE I CAN.  I really don’t have to do this at all. Jumping out of a moving plane in the sky attached to a bloke (or lady) is not part of my essential daily life, like breathing, eating, sleeping, etc…  The most sensible option would be to perform an avoidance technique and not do it at all.

At the very least, I can always run away screaming on the day.  (The screaming being only for effect you understand – this is not compulsory and could need its own risk assessment to ensure no vocal chords were damaged in the making of this escape plan).

But two problems with avoidance.  (A) I’ve already said I would do it.  And I don’t go back on my word.  This is my challenge, and if I back out now, I’d hate myself for a very long time for being a wimp.  I’m sure I can think of a number of things where I already either disapprove of my actions or consider myself a wimp – so I really don’t want to add to the list.  In the words of BA Barracus ‘Get some nuts Man’.  Which would work better if I was a bloke, but you know what I mean…

And (B) a lot of people have already sponsored me, and even those that haven’t (including the Charity beneficiaries) – I can’t really disappoint them.

So avoidance is out.  Option considered and rejected.  Tick.

2)      Assess the task before you start.  Ok, done.  Now what.  Oh, alright then – I’m not in denial, I promise.  I have to admit though, I did not really think all the options through before I said I would do this.  Time for a reality check – just what could go wrong?

a.       The plane could crash.  Slim chance I guess… but possible.  I hope that the company are doing all the relevant checks on the engines, wings, fuselage, cabin, stewardess, packet peanuts etc. to ensure that I get up to the required height safely. 

b.      The jump out of the door goes horribly wrong.  Engines, cables, flames, eeek.   That’s enough of that one.

c.       Air pressure problems.  A friend of mine once reported that a Giraffe climbed partially up to Machu Pichu in Peru with her.  She carried on with him for a while because his conversation was better than her Trek partner.  However, eventually the novelty wore off, and she worked out that his lack of knowledge of the African plains was due to him being a product of altitude sickness, rather than that he lived in Regent’s Park Zoo.  She carried on climbing anyway though – well, she’d got that far – she really didn’t want to give in (just as stubborn as yours truly then…).  It was only when they were joined by a Polar Bear called Albert that she told the Trek Doctor.  Of course this is a joke (and no giraffes or polar bears were harmed in the making of this anecdote) but she did see giraffes, and hallucinations are the least of the problem.  Breathing could be an issue…  Air Pressure – you never really know what it’s going to do to you till you get up there.  So, the decision is – go, or not?  Well I've always quite liked giraffes....

d.      The parachute doesn’t open.  Biggie this one.  And something that I have very little control over.  This is total trust in some complete strangers – the guys who pack the parachutes and check the equipment have my life totally in their hands, as without all this working properly, it is certain death.  It is, of course, in their interests not to kill me (or one of their parachutists) – it would be slightly bad for business.  Well, if nothing else, their insurance premiums would go up rather a lot – and I’m sure they don’t want that.  And all those inspections from risk adjustors and insurance claims officers – I’m thinking that alone would be worth trying to avoid a parachute not opening.   And there is a safety chute I understand.  Let’s hope the jump isn’t on Friday 13^th… two failures would just be bad luck.

e.       The landing is in the wrong place. 

                                                              i.      Say on top of a tree/house/factory.  Pine needles where you really don’t need them.  Or slates skittering everywhere, and then falling off the roof.  That would be a blow – to think you’d got down safely and then fall off your landing platform…  Not to mention the embarrassment of landing on some poor pensioner’s bungalow, and having to ask for a ladder to get down.  I get a picture of that whole fighting your way out of the parachute and strings thing too…

                                                            ii.      Or there’s a landing in a river or the sea.  I won’t be wearing my swimming costume or any life jacket, and there won’t be one of those bouncy castle slides to whizz down (without your shoes and hand luggage) – so I’m guessing it will hurt.  Like the pain of a belly flop into the pool from the top diving board.  I could always try to do that pointy toes thing, or if going head first, the ‘lock your hands together’ thing they try to teach you in diving class.  I was never very good at diving though – I’m not very aerodynamic anyway, and was never brave enough to test the upper boards.  Too much belly to flop on!  (There – I can now recall that I used to do risk assessments even back then….)

                                                          iii.      Or even safely in a field, but miles away from where I should be – er – ‘has anyone got a phone?  I need to get back to Salisbury…. And er, I took all the money out of my pockets before I jumped…’  ‘Oh, I guess I could be having my first hitch-hiking experience then….’

Oh, I won't look like this though - it's October for heavens sake!

f.       Or the quite likely ‘bad landing’.  Of all the above this is the most probable danger.  Landing heavily because of my weight – hmm, yes, this could be a big problem.  I’m doing what I can, but I’ll still be at the upper end of the weight plan.  Broken legs, gruelling spiky bones poking through organs.   Hmm – nice.  Dislocated shoulders are, I’m told, likely if you have a weakness there.  Torn tendons and ligaments: possible.  Sprains, bruises, very likely.  If nothing else, the straps under the crotch are likely to chafe a little….

Well - bruises, sprains etc I can cope with.  Breaks - I've never had a cast so I guess my bones aren't that brittle.... time to test that one.  Anything more, and I'll not really be around to think about it....

So this Risk Assessment is really going well.  I'm now in a right state, having thought through all those lovely possibilities.  However, my chin is still up!  Just. 

....to be continued....