Fuerteventura, one of the smallest of the Canary Islands off the coast of Spain, has 364 days of sunshine per year and is a haven for naturists. Tamworth, in Staffordshire, doesn't and isn't.
It's not hard to see, therefore, why emigrating to Fuerteventura, or somewhere similarly hot and quiet, was a dream of mine even before December 16 2013. Since that awful day, it's become even more obvious that Britain's cold, grey, damp weather and this particular Warrior were not meant for each other.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a magazine column which was 800 words long and was almost wholly devoted to the joys of blood-thinning tablets. Nearly all stroke-survivors have to take these for life because they reduce the risk of further clots. They work (or at least they have worked for me so far) but they have one drastic side-effect; as well as thinning the blood, they also chill it. Imagine sticking your hand in the average domestic freezer, leaving it there until you could stand it no longer, then having to cope with your hands and feet feeling that cold for the rest of the day and night.
I had poor circulation before my stroke; since then, the feeling of cold in my hands and feet has got considerably worse. Of course, when you place this against the difficulties suffered by those survivors who are permanently paralysed in some way, it's something that I just have to live with (and invoke my Warrior spirit while doing so). But it's just another of those things that non-strokies can never understand about this condition - and heaven knows, there are plenty of those.
I mention this because the weather this week around Warrillow Towers has not been helpful. On Monday and Tuesday, I was so cold that I sat at home in a thick sweatshirt all day - IN THE FINAL WEEK OF JUNE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE. Add in one of those horrible instances of fatigue which all strokies get - when I was barely able to raise the energy to get off the sofa for a couple of days - and the week has not been good.
But I'll KBO (work it out, lol), be thankful for the fact that I got up this morning, sit outside in the sun for a while after I've finished writing this and leave you by explaining the breakthrough in my therapy to which I referred last week.
Emily Smedley and I have spent our last couple of sessions working on my stroke-affected left foot; trying to get it to rest evenly on the floor, rather than the odd angle at which it has sat even before my stroke. This involves me resting on the couch with my left foot pressed hard up against the wall of the room while Emily does her worst with various muscles and nerves around my waist. It hurts, of course; it wouldn't be working if it didn't. But towards the end of our last session, I actually wanted to get outside and sprint down the corridor; not just run, but actually sprint in proper athletic fashion. And I did. And using proper technique, rather than holding my left hand clenched as I usually do. It was actually fun. And the exercises which Emily gave me to do, which involve getting into what American Football fans will recognise as a lineman's three-point stance (to strengthen my thigh and knee) have been equally good.
And they've had an effect. On several occasions this week, I've walked from Warrillow Towers to the supermarket over the road without even using my stick for balance and support. It's been a bit wobbly at times and yes, I do look a little bit tipsy if I stumble. But it's another achievement. I'm back at Emily's next Tuesday and I'm looking forward to doing some more serious running. It will help if the weather is sufficiently summer-like that we can get outside without feeling too cold, though....
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