Regular readers will know that I'm not one for acknowledging the downside of life with stroke. I'd far rather focus on the positive 'it's better than being dead' bit. But just occasionally, something happens which is unavoidable and has to be acknowledged.
A lovely dose of stroke-fatigue on Christmas Day, for instance.
As is usually the case, it was partly my own fault. Christmas Eve is Mrs Warrior senior's birthday and as she is now 86 and not as willing to go out for big family meals as she used to be, we invited her to Warrillow Towers for a quiet lunch.
Of course, an afternoon event turned into an afternoon and evening event and by the time the washing-up was done and everything put away, it was close to 9pm. Any thoughts of Midnight Mass disappeared as we realised that staying awake until past 2am probably wasn't going to happen.
So we decided on an early start to Christmas morning, with present-opening, breakfast and Buck's Fizz (of course) followed by the 10.30am service at church, a service I usually avoid like the plague because not only is it full of children (God forbid), the music is provided by a modern folk group, which you may not be shocked to learn is my idea of Hell.
But Christmas Day has to include church, so 10.30 it was - until I woke up, or rather, didn't wake up.
The alarm was set for 7.30am. I missed it. Instead, I was roused at 9.15 by the sound of an irritated dog, who wanted to be taken outside. I managed to do that, but breakfast (usually a leisurely affair on Christmas Day) was out of the question, as was present-opening.
Instead, I stumbled into the shower, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep for a week. Stroke-fatigue does that to you. But this was Christmas Day. There was family to visit, presents to open, an expensive Christmas dinner to eat.
So I showered and dressed, making it plain to Mrs Warrior as I did so that this was probably not going to be our best day. And, reader, I wouldn't have cared what type of service we went to because I practically slept through it. I heard it all, which is more than I have done during previous bouts of stroke-fatigue, but my eyes were closed, my brain was dulled - as I've said before, a stroke-damaged brain sometimes decides for itself when it wants to rest, without consulting its' owner. That's what mine was doing now.
It eventually stirred at around 2pm, as we prepared to go out for dinner. By 3pm, it had caught up with the rest of the world and was fine for the rest of the day. But events such as this are occupational hazards for a stroke-survivor; something we live with on a daily basis. Normally, I cope with it by taking a daily afternoon nap for about an hour, but the build-up to Christmas has been so hectic that I've neglected it.
Lesson learnt; if I don't take regular rest, my disrupted Christmas Day will become a regular event. One of my mantras about stroke-awareness is that I talk about it as much as I do because I don't want one more person to have to go through the s@@@ which stroke-survivors wade through daily.
Christmas is bad enough without putting up with stuff like this, lol.....