My biggest scare since you-know-when

Is there anything worse than someone who is near-evangelical with health and lifestyle advice on the back of something which happened to them, then goes and completely ignores that advice?

Probably not. With my hard-nosed journalist's hat on, I could call it hypocritical. As the person involved is me, let's just call it stupid.

My stroke taught me many things, but key among them were the importance of eating properly, reducing stress, not rushing around trying to do a million things at once, resting properly - all the things I talk about regularly.

One day this week, I stupidly ignored all that advice and came dangerously close to collapsing (why do I hate that word?) while out walking the dog in Tamworth's Castle Grounds.

I should have known at lunchtime that something wasn't right. It took too long to write my blog (were the lounge of Warrillow Towers an old newspaper office, the floor would have been awash with torn-up sheets of copy paper....), so I was rushing to have lunch before my 2pm appointment with my counsellor.

Lunch was supposed to be a jacket potato with a decent filling, but in my haste, I misread the time and when I got it out of the oven, it was still half-cold. So I put it back in the oven for the required time, then ended up rushing to eat it and leave the kitchen in a decent state before going out.

Unsurprisingly, I then went and vented at my counsellor for an hour, getting out all my frustrations and barely giving her space to speak; it needed doing, but in hindsight, it was just getting me more wound up. I came home just in time to feed the dog and cat, grabbed ten minutes in front of the TV, then decided to take the dog for a walk. Is it any wonder that, as a fellow strokie put it this week about her own bad day, I felt light-headed and wobbly on my pins?

No, probably not.....

The dog and I have a regular route through Tamworth's idyllic Castle Grounds for our daily walks; he probably knows the way better than I do. About halfway through our walk, there is a bridge across the river; a left-turn takes us past the wonderful flower-beds by the Castle and through the Town Centre; a right-turn takes us home.

Normally,  we turn left but I knew that if I didn't get home ASAP, I was likely to collapse (there's that word again) and leave the dog unattended. He has our address on his collar and could probably make his own way home without me from where we were, but I'd rather not let him try, thanks.

As we stood (sort of, in my case) waiting to cross the ridiculously busy road opposite Warrillow Towers, I knew I had to get home quickly, get some food and sit down before I blacked out. My legs were shaking, my head was woozy; this was worse than on that day in December 2013. On that occasion, I had no warning whatsoever about what was coming.

We just made it home as Mrs W was walking through the front door, having got home from the railway station. She sat me down, ordered me to have two large glasses of water and a couple of bananas and get some rest.

I barely got out of the chair for the rest of the evening and was in bed by 10pm. At my networking breakfast the following morning, plenty of people asked how I was 'after my wobble." I was OK, but I really could say I was glad to wake up breathing after what felt like a lot more than just a scare. It was proof that I should listen myself to the advice I give other people.

I've been conscious of that all week; I've eaten properly at breakfast and lunchtime, I've even gone to sleep in the afternoon to benefit from the restorative properties of the power-nap.

I've frightened myself this week. And I can assure you I won't be doing it again any time soon.