Recovery After Stroke

Crying After Stroke: What Bobby Chaggar’s Recovery Taught Him About Grief and Strength The night his stroke happened, Ramandeep “Bobby” Chaggar didn’t feel what he expected to feel. No pins and needles. No dramatic collapse. Just a left arm that wouldn’t answer him anymore.  He limped to the kitchen anyway, poured a glass of water, and brought one back for his wife because that’s what you do, even when your body has just stopped taking instructions from half of itself. It wasn’t until the ambulance service ran him through the BFAST test over the phone that the word “stroke” entered the room. A right ischaemic pontine stroke, in December 2023. He was, by his own account, in the best health of his life at the time: no blood pressure issues, no diabetes, cycling a hundred kilometres most weekends. Growing Up Believing a Stroke Meant You Were Gone Bobby grew up in an era and a family where a stroke wasn’t something you researched; it was something you heard about secondhand. “That particular cousin’s father’s grandfather had a stroke, and he’s gone,” is how the news used to travel. Nobody around him distinguished a stroke in the brain from a stroke in the heart. There was no internet to check, only the flat, final verdict that passed between relatives: he’s done for.  It’s a belief he carried into his own stroke, even as his medical training Bobby spent years as a veterinary surgeon in India before qualifying in Australia told him something else was happening. That veterinary background is exactly why he recognised what was going on in his own body faster than most people would. It didn’t make the belief disappear. It just meant he was fighting it from the inside while everyone around him was still catching up. Why His Arm Seemed to Move Then Stopped In those first disorienting hours, Bobby was convinced his arm had started moving again. He filmed it and sent the video to his sister as proof, he thought, that he was already turning a corner. By morning, the movement was gone. “It was like a bad dream,” he says. “I was like, what was that?”  What he was seeing wasn’t recovery. Doctors later explained that in the earliest hours after a stroke, the body can still fire off remnant spinal reflexes old movement patterns held in the spinal cord that can briefly activate on their own, independent of the brain damage that’s actually occurred. It’s a strange, almost cruel mechanism: the body offering a flicker of hope before the real work of recovery has even started. The Physio Who Promised Him He’d Walk Again Bobby spent 45 days in rehabilitation at Parkville, six months in a wheelchair overall, and credits one moment above almost everything else: his first physiotherapist he calls her Hannah sitting on the floor, moving his foot, and telling him he would walk again. It mattered enough that his book was originally going to be titled Walking with Hannah, before privacy considerations changed the plan. His son, who narrates the audiobook, still opens the acknowledgements by thanking her directly. Learning to Cry Again This is the part of Bobby’s story that speaks most directly to what so many stroke survivors go through and rarely say out loud. In his culture, and in his family, showing emotion, especially for the men expected to be providers and caretakers, wasn’t really an option. When his father died in 1997, he was told to be strong for his mother and sister. When his mother died in 2013, he was told the same thing again. “I’ve been told that stroke is a part of grief, and you should not suppress your feelings.” It took his brother-in-law showing up every day to help him with basic care showering, dressing, the things that felt hardest to accept before something shifted. His own psychologist eventually gave him the instruction that reframed everything: put on your own life jacket first, before you try to save anyone else. It’s advice Bobby now extends to every caregiver he talks to: the person supporting a stroke survivor needs their own support too, or they burn out trying to hold everything together. He isn’t alone in this. Bill has spoken openly on the podcast about his own experience with unexpected, involuntary crying after a neurological injury, and how much energy goes into reassuring the people around you that the tears don’t mean something is wrong. For Bobby, permission to cry didn’t erase the culture he was raised in. It just meant he stopped fighting it. A New Normal, On His Own Terms Bobby’s recovery is full of small, deliberate acts of reclaiming identity. He got his first tattoo not long after his stroke, partly, he says, because people notice ink before they notice a limp. He’s spent years slowly making peace with not tying a turban the way he used to, calling himself, with real affection, a recovering “turbanator.” He built his own incline-and-decline walking circuit near his home and quietly upped the difficulty every fortnight, the same instinct that now has him choosing stairs over the lift at the allied health course he’s completing. Running, he says flatly, is overrated. He can’t do it anymore, and he’s decided that’s fine. It’s the same acceptance that let him and his family move to Perth just one month after his stroke, and then move back again when isolation made the recovery harder than the geography ever was.  None of it looks like the version of recovery he grew up believing in, the one where a stroke simply meant a story was over. Bobby’s version has a motorbike with a sidecar he now rides himself, a book he wrote one voice note at a time because typing with one hand wasn’t fast enough, and a fairly simple message for anyone who asked him to just think positively: some things are still hard, and that’s allowed to be true at the same time as everything else.  If you’re navigating your own recovery or supporting someone who is, Bill’s book, The Unexpected Way That A Stroke Became The Best Thing That Happened (recoveryafterstroke.com/book), walks through ten practical tools for rebuilding after a stroke. And if trauma has made your world feel smaller than it used to be, Bill’s newest book, Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small, is written for exactly that.  If this episode helped you, you can support the show directly at patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. This blog is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor before making any changes to your health or recovery plan. Bobby Chaggar: Learning to Cry After Stroke (Interview) He was taught a stroke meant you were gone. Bobby Chaggar’s story proves otherwise and shows why crying after a stroke is nothing to hide. Highlights: 00:00 Introduction 02:00 Life Before the Stroke 09:28 Rehabilitation Journey 12:00 Crying After Stroke 14:52 Reflections on Recovery and Growth 26:33 The Promise of Recovery and Writing a Book 29:37 Cultural Identity and Personal Beliefs 37:28 Relocation and Its Challenges 41:44 The Importance of Caregiver Self-Care 44:10 Adjusting to a New Normal 51:09 The Journey of Riding Again 57:09 Bobby’s Journey of Unlearning and Grief Transcript: Introduction – Crying after stroke Ramandeep (bobby) chaggar (00:00) I realized that I was having a stroke. because it was not their usual pins and needles and there was no sensation. I couldn’t move my arm. I managed to limp. I went all the way to the kitchen. I trudged a little to the kitchen. I had a glass of water, brought a glass for my wife. in the hospital, I thought my arm started moving. And the doctors, and when I got up in the morning, it was like a bad dream. No, it was not moving again. So I was like, what was that? Bill Gasiamis (00:19) Welcome back to Recovery After Stroke. I’m Bill Gasiamis and today I’m talking with Bobby Chaggar, a veterinary surgeon originally from India, now living in Melbourne, who survived a right ischemic pontain stroke in December 2023. Bobby’s story covers a lot of ground, the cultural belief he grew up with, that a stroke simply meant you were gone. The strange confusion of a spinal reflex that made his arm move before it didn’t. Physiotherapist whose promise changed the course of recovery and what it actually took for him as a man raised to be the strong one to let himself cry. Before we get into it, if trauma has made your world feel smaller than it used to be, my new book, Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small, is exactly what it’s about. Search for it on Amazon or tap the link in the show notes to grab your copy today. And one more thing, this show exists because listeners decide it’s worth keeping going. There’s no other funding behind it. If an episode like this one has ever helped you or helped someone you love, even a few dollars a month on Patreon is what keeps these conversations free for the next person who finds themselves Googling this stuff alone at two in the morning, scared, looking for someone who’s actually been through it. That’s all. patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke.. A small amount every month makes a massive difference. But now let’s get into it. Here’s my conversation with Bobby. Bill Gasiamis (01:56) Bobby Chaggar. Welcome to the podcast. Ramandeep (bobby) chaggar (01:58) Thank you very much. Thank you. Thank you, Bill. Life Before the Stroke Bill Gasiamis (02:00) So you grew up in a house with 22 dogs, three cats and a trilingual parrot as well, right? So what’s the situation there? You’re living with pets. Were you important in your family or Ramandeep (bobby) chaggar (02:10) Ha ha. Bill Gasiamis (02:11) did the animals come first? Ramandeep (bobby) chaggar (02:14) the animals definitely did come first. my mother was also a teacher, but she decided to stay at home and be a stay you know, stay a worker from home mom for for the for the kids. And my parents never used to say no to any patient. So they used to admit everything and anything. And in India also it’s quite common to rehome pets and a lot of times they don’t get proper homes. So we used to say yes to ev

Teenage Stroke: When Recovery Feels Like Losing Yourself Benjamin Miller was 16 years old and playing football in Texas when a carotid artery dissection changed the course of his life on September 22, 2017. He didn’t know what a stroke was. He didn’t know that the word would come to define the years that followed not because of what it took from his body, but because of what it took from his sense of who he was. Teenage stroke recovery is not what most people picture. The standard narrative runs like this: young brain, high neuroplasticity, rapid recovery, inspirational outcome. And in some ways, that’s true. The motor and language systems that stroke damages can rebuild quickly in an adolescent brain. But there’s a part of recovery that neuroplasticity doesn’t touch, and that’s identity. Who Was Benjamin Before the Stroke? He was a football player. In Texas, that means something. It means a community, a future, a sense of place in the social architecture of a town. When the stroke took that away, it didn’t just end a sport. It ended a version of himself that he hadn’t finished becoming. “My soul was torn in half,” Benjamin said in this conversation with Bill Gasiamis. It’s one of those phrases that stops you not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s accurate. “My soul was torn in half.” — Benjamin Miller, EP422 The stroke forced him to grieve something most 16-year-olds don’t have language for: the future self they were building toward. When that future collapsed overnight, he was left with a present he didn’t recognise and a past that no longer pointed toward anything. Why Teenage Stroke Is Different Teenage stroke recovery carries a layer of complexity that adult stroke recovery doesn’t always share. Adolescence is the developmental period in which identity is actively constructed; it’s not a fixed thing waiting to be restored. When stroke interrupts that process mid-construction, the survivor isn’t returning to who they were. They’re trying to become someone they haven’t yet figured out how to be. Benjamin’s experience of turning to substance use during his recovery wasn’t a character failure. It was, as he articulates in this episode, an attempt to manage an identity fracture that nobody around him had the vocabulary to name. When the pain doesn’t have a name, people find their own ways to survive it. This is one reason teenage stroke recovery deserves its own conversation separate from paediatric stroke outcome data, and separate from the adult recovery narrative. The emotional, psychological, and social dimensions are specific to this life stage. You might also recognise elements of this in other episodes: the identity rupture that follows sudden stroke in a young person surfaces in Young Stroke Survivor Recovery and Identity Loss After Stroke. Benjamin’s story adds a dimension that’s less often named: what happens when the loss of identity happens before you’ve finished building one. When the Brain Heals Faster Than the Self Can Here’s something worth naming a phenomenon the clinical literature notes but rarely centres in recovery conversations. Adolescent neuroplasticity is real. Benjamin’s brain had the capacity to rebuild physical and linguistic function faster than an older adult’s would. But neuroplasticity is a structural property of the brain. It doesn’t extend to the psychological work of integrating a traumatic experience into a developing sense of self. The result is a gap, sometimes a wide one, between the physical recovery that others can see and the internal recovery that isn’t visible at all. Benjamin appeared to be “doing well” in many respects while internally carrying a fracture that hadn’t been addressed. This gap is one of the least-discussed aspects of teenage stroke recovery. If you’ve experienced it, or watched someone you love experience it, it may be the most important thing in this episode. The Road Back And What It Actually Looks Like Benjamin’s memoir, Ed and I, available on YouTube, traces this journey. What comes through clearly in his conversation with Bill is that the path forward required him to walk through the things he’d been managing around the grief, the identity loss, the fracture itself. Recovery, in his telling, doesn’t take you back to who you were. It takes you through who you are now. That reframe from restoration to transformation is one that many stroke survivors eventually arrive at. Bill’s book The Unexpected Way That A Stroke Became The Best Thing That Happened documents ten tools for exactly that kind of recovery. For more episodes touching on identity and recovery: Emotional Recovery After Stroke Mistakes, Identity After Stroke — Cassie Jewell, Stroke With No Warning Signs — Tom Ballo, Losing Confidence After Stroke, and Stroke Brain Healing Neuroplasticity. Listen to EP422 This episode doesn’t pretend that recovery is a clean arc or that there’s a single turning point you can point to. What it offers instead is something more honest: the lived texture of finding yourself again when you’re not sure who you’re finding your way back to. Listen to EP422 of the Recovery After Stroke podcast wherever you listen. If a stroke or any trauma has made your world feel smaller, Bill’s new book Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small is a practical guide to rebuilding your life, even when you’re not ready. Find it on Amazon at mybook.to/yourworld. If this show has helped you, you can support it at patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. This blog is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor before making any changes to your health or recovery plan. Benjamin Miller on Identity, Substances, and Finding His Way Back “My soul was torn in half.” Benjamin Miller had a stroke at 16 and lost more than football here’s how he found his way back. Highlights: 00:00 Introduction – Teenage Stroke09:01 The Day of the Stroke11:56 The Loss of Identity17:12 Coping Mechanisms: Alcohol and Escapism22:37 COVID-19: A Blessing in Disguise28:57 The Journey of Healing Begins32:40 Facing Uncomfortable Emotions38:45 Spiritual Awakening Through Adversity42:34 The Power of Breath and Movement47:35 Building Community in Recovery55:39 Finding Belonging and Understanding59:12 Creating a Path for Self-Healing Transcript: Introduction – Teenage Stroke Benjamin Miller (00:00)when I was told that by my father that. It felt like my soul was torn in half, because like I always saw myself as a student athlete and the bigger part of that was the athlete. And now I lost half of my identity and. I just didn’t know how to as a. 17 year old now like how to move forward with life and I didn’t know who I was and the only thing I defined myself as was taken away from me So now I was just like in this weird place where I felt like I was drowning on a day-to-day basis. Bill Gasiamis (00:33)hello, everybody. Welcome back to Recovery After Stroke. I’m Bill Gasciamas. My guest today had a stroke at just 16 years old, a carotid artery dissection that ended his football career and cracked his sense of who he was, right at the age when most people are just beginning to figure that out. Before we get into it, if you’ve been finding value in this podcast, my new book is out now. It’s called Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small. A practical guide to rebuilding your life after trauma even when you’re not ready. You can find it on Amazon by searching my name or you can click the link in the show notes. Now it’s on to the episode. Bill Gasiamis (01:14)Benjamin Miller, welcome to the podcast. Benjamin Miller (01:16)Sir, thank you for having me. Bill Gasiamis (01:19)Tell me what’s regular life like for you before the stroke? Benjamin Miller (01:26)Yeah, I mean, when I had my stroke, I was 16 years old and I was in my third year of high school. So it was really comprised of just school, going to school every day and then playing sports after school. Like through the school, would play American football. I played baseball earlier in my life. And then towards the end of my high school, I just continued to play American football because I had the goal of following in my two older brother’s footsteps. for playing football, American football, in college at that time. So I just saw myself as following their path and going to play college football. And that’s what I was chasing throughout high school. Bill Gasiamis (02:09)How long ago was that? The stroke? Benjamin Miller (02:12)It was 2017, the fall of 2017. So Bill Gasiamis (02:16)Okay. Benjamin Miller (02:16)coming up on nine years on the 22nd of September. Bill Gasiamis (02:23)I I expect that stroke is the last thing going through the mind of a sixteen year old and the family of a sixteen year old. So Benjamin Miller (02:34)Yeah. Bill Gasiamis (02:34)w do you have any recollection of what it was like on the day of the stroke? Was there some kind of sign, was there anything that gave you an inkling of something being wrong before everything happened? Benjamin Miller (02:53)maybe like right before, because just playing American football, you’re always hear about head trauma and just CTE and concussions. And that’s always the biggest worry for playing football. But it was during the game that Friday night, it was the second game of our football season. And it was in between the first quarter and second quarter. And I came over to the bench and like in between going back on the field, our coach like brings the offense or defensive units together and we like talk about any in-game adjustments and I came over and sat down on the bench and I just noticed my balance like start to tip like I was having to stare down at my feet in order to stop myself from falling over and Yeah, just from there like I like grew up in a Society like especially in football. It’s I don’t know if I surround football is the same but just no pain no gain so Bill Gasiamis (0

Identity After Stroke: Who Are You When Your Career Is Gone? Cassie Jewell got back from Iceland on a Monday. On Wednesday, she was demoted from the job she had built her life around. On Friday, she was in an ambulance with a stroke. She was 42, a licensed counsellor supervising behavioural health programs inside a US jail. She loved working with inmates and took two or three extra hours of work home most nights. “My entire identity was my career,” she told me. Within a single week, she lost the role and nearly lost her life. Her story shows something many survivors struggle to name: identity after stroke isn’t only about what your body can still do. It’s about who you are when the roles you relied on are gone. The Week Everything Changed On the Thursday night after the demotion, Cassie stayed up writing a book, determined to prove she still mattered. As she typed, her left hand stopped working. She put it down to tiredness and went to bed. She woke the next afternoon knowing something was wrong but not what. She decided it was a panic attack. Then she remembered her hand. She texted her mum, a nurse practitioner, who told her to call 911 and ask for a hospital with a stroke centre. When the paramedics arrived asking for the stroke patient, Cassie was the one who had answered the door. One side of her face was drooping and her left side was weakening. The diagnosis was an ischaemic stroke in the right basal ganglia, a deep brain region involved in movement, balance and, as she discovered, emotional regulation. If you want to understand this area of the brain better, our episode on lower basal ganglia stroke (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/lower-basal-ganglia-stroke/) goes deeper. Her doctors told her stress contributes to stroke rather than causing it directly, and her cardiologist is still monitoring her heart rhythm. Cassie has her own view: “I was literally burning myself to the ground… and then my brain was like, okay, we’ve had enough. We’re gonna stop you.” It’s a theme we’ve explored before in stroke and stress (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/stroke-and-stress-darren-walker/). When Your Brain Tells You You’re Fine The day after her stroke, Cassie tried to go to work. Her mum stopped her. Later, before she was cleared to drive, she got behind the wheel and bumped another car on her first day out. There’s a name for part of what was happening: anosognosia. It describes reduced awareness of your own deficits after a brain injury, and it’s more often associated with right-hemisphere strokes like Cassie’s. It isn’t stubbornness or denial; it’s a symptom of the injury itself, which is why a survivor can sincerely insist they’re okay while the people around them can see otherwise. Cassie summed up that period in one line: “It’s fine, it’s gonna be fine, even though it clearly, you know, wasn’t fine.” For families, understanding it can turn an argument into patience. Why Identity After Stroke Hits So Hard Identity is built from what we do, the roles we hold, and the stories we tell about ourselves, and a stroke can remove several at once. The more tightly your sense of self is tied to a single role, the larger the gap it leaves. “I lost my career and myself at the same time,” Cassie said. Her first job after returning to work didn’t last. She found she wasn’t as quick as she used to be, and that raised a harder question: “When you measure your self-worth in the things that you do… and then all of a sudden you don’t have your career anymore, who are you?” I recognised that question. Before my own strokes, I was a business owner and a dad, and I couldn’t have told you anything about myself beyond those labels. I didn’t have the vocabulary for identity loss. Guests such as Adam Wolfers (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/cerebral-vasculitis-stroke-identity-change-adam-wolfers/) have described the same collision between who they were and who they now are, and anyone weighing up work decisions may find our episode on changing career after stroke (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/change-career-after-stroke/) useful. The emotional side can catch even a professional off guard. “You’d think as a therapist I would be good with it,” Cassie said, “but I’d prefer to deal with other people’s emotions, not my own.” Our conversation about emotional changes after stroke (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/emotional-changes-after-stroke-sam-hanes/) explores this further. Choosing Who You Become Eighteen months on, Cassie doesn’t have an elevator pitch for who she is. She’s clearer about who she isn’t: someone driven by work. She values free time, her partner, and her dogs. She works full time doing intake assessments and sees private clients, and she describes herself this way: “I’m not as sharp as I was before, but I think I’m kinder.” A stroke, she says, “strips away everything else so you have nothing left but yourself,” and then “you can also choose what your new identity is gonna be.” That choice matters most. For most of my life I did what I’d been trained to do; it took a stroke to show me I could choose differently. Researchers Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun called this post-traumatic growth: positive change that comes from the struggle with a traumatic event, not from the event itself. Cassie put it in her own words: “It’s not about the stroke. It’s about, okay, what am I gonna choose to do now?” It’s the idea at the centre of my book, The Unexpected Way That A Stroke Became The Best Thing That Happened (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/book). Practical Ways to Rebuild Identity After Stroke Drawing on Cassie’s story, here are a few starting points: Separate what you do from who you are. Write down your values, not your job titles. Values survive a stroke better than roles do. Give it time. For me, it took a few years before I could say I liked the person I’d become. Early recovery is rarely the time to decide who you’ll be forever. Let people you trust be your early-warning system. Cassie’s partner noticed her overwork long before she did, and her mum recognised the stroke symptoms. With anosognosia in the picture, other people’s observations matter. Replace old coping habits, don’t just remove them. Recovery is a chance to swap quick fixes for stress for ones that last. Use time as a lens. Cassie is reading Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman and aims to visit all 195 countries. Find people who understand. Other survivors often give you the words for your experience. Our episode on finding purpose after stroke (https://recoveryafterstroke.com/finding-purpose-after-stroke/) is a good next listen. Listen to Cassie’s Full Story Watch or listen to the full conversation with Cassie Jewell. You can find more of her work at cassie-jewell.com (https://cassie-jewell.com). If a stroke has left your world feeling smaller, my new book, Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small (https://mybook.to/yourworld), is a practical guide to rebuilding your life after trauma, even when you’re not ready. If this show has helped you, you can support it at patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. This blog is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor before making any changes to your health or recovery plan. Losing My Career and Myself, Then Choosing Who I’d Be – Cassie Jewell (Interview) A stroke at 42 took Cassie Jewell’s career and the identity built on it. What she found underneath changed how she works, loves, and travels. Highlights: 00:00 Introduction – Cassie’s Identity After Stroke01:08 Life Before the Stroke09:35 The Day of the Stroke23:02 Aftermath and Recovery28:41 Hospitalization and Rehabilitation Journey32:04 Dissociation and Identity Post-Stroke38:12 Life After Stroke: Adjusting to New Realities50:32 How Stroke Forced Me to Discover Who I Really Am01:02:14 The Dual Nature of Stroke Experiences Transcript: Introduction – Cassie’s Identity After Stroke Bill Gasiamis (00:00)Hi everyone, welcome back to Recovery After Stroke. I’m Bill Gassiamis. My guest today is Cassie Jewell, a counselor and author from the United States, who in February of 2025 at 42 had an ischemic stroke in the right basal ganglia. In the same week, she was moved out of the role she had built her whole identity around. We talk about perfectionism and the overwork loop that’s so hard to step out of. Why she tried to go back to work the day after her stroke, a condition called anosognosia. And the question at the heart of this episode: who are you when your career is gone? Now, if stroke has made your world feel smaller, my book is written for you. It’s called Your World Doesn’t Have to Stay This Small: A Practical Guide to Rebuilding Your Life After Trauma, Even When You’re Not Ready. Search for it on Amazon or tap the link in the show notes. And if this show has helped you, you can support it at patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. And a massive thank you to everyone who already supports the show. You’re the reason these conversations keep happening. And now it’s time for the interview. Life Before the Stroke Bill Gasiamis (01:08)Cassie Jewell, welcome to the podcast. Cassie (01:10)Hi, how are you? Bill Gasiamis (01:12)I’m well. Thank you. Great to see you here. I really appreciate you joining me. I want to ask you a little bit about what your life was like before the stroke. What did you get up to? How did you occupy your time? Cassie (01:26)So my life was out of control before the stroke. I was working at a jail and it was a super stressful position. it was just stress all the time. I had a really bad supervisor too, a micromanager. but I also that wasn’t the only part of my life. I traveled a lot. I don’t know. It’s hard to even think about it now, honestly. Bill Gasiamis (01:54)How long ago was the stroke? Cassie (01:57)So the stroke was it’s been about a year and a half. It was February twenty first, twenty twenty five. Bill Gasiamis (02:02)Mm-hmm. w were you in a relationship? Were what’s the living arr

Stroke With No Warning Signs: What Tom Ballo Wants Every Survivor to Know Tom Ballo was 65 years old, nine years into a retirement he’d earned across three decades as a telecoms litigator, when a massive hemorrhagic stroke put him on the floor of his own home. There was no dizziness the week before, no slurred word he brushed off, no doctor’s visit he postponed. “It just hit me out of the blue,” he says. “There were no warning signs or anything. No. Very sudden.” His five-year-old granddaughter was the one who found him, ran to get her father, and called 911. That single fact- a stroke with no warning signs is the hardest one for a survivor’s family to sit with, and it’s the reason Tom’s story matters. We’re trained to look for a prodrome: the TIA that precedes the “real” event, the slurred speech, the drooping face, the classic FAST checklist. Those signs save lives when they’re present. But a meaningful share of hemorrhagic strokes, including Tom’s, give no such courtesy. Understanding this isn’t about inducing fear; it’s about removing the false comfort of “I’d definitely see it coming,” which quietly stops people from taking risk factors seriously simply because they feel fine right now. Eighteen Months Later: “I Had Like One Bad Day” What makes Tom an unusual guest isn’t just the suddenness of his stroke — it’s what he says about the recovery. Eighteen months out, he offers a claim that stops most interviewers in their tracks: “Ever since I had the stroke, as far as bad days, I had like one. One bad day, I guess.” For a show built around the long, uneven work of recovery, that’s either the most useful sentence a newly diagnosed survivor will hear all year, or the most worth interrogating. We chose not to resolve that tension neatly, because Tom doesn’t either — and that honesty is more useful to you than a tidy takeaway would be. “Ever since I had the stroke, as far as bad days, I had like one. One bad day, I guess.” — Tom Ballo Part of what underwrites his outlook is a framework he leaned on well before the stroke: self-actualisation, drawn from Abraham Maslow’s 1943 hierarchy of needs. Tom describes himself as someone who had already done the internal work of knowing who he was — a foundation he credits with much of his composure now. It’s worth a caveat here for accuracy: Maslow’s hierarchy is a theory of motivation, not a diagnostic instrument, and there’s no validated test that certifies someone “self-actualised.” What Tom is really describing is a stable sense of identity going into the hardest thing that ever happened to him — and that’s a legitimate, replicable idea, whether or not you use Maslow’s language for it. The Part That Doesn’t Get Easier “One bad day” is not the same as “no hard days,” and the interview doesn’t pretend otherwise. Tom is candid that spasticity the stiffness and involuntary muscle tightness that often follows a hemorrhagic stroke is getting worse, not better, as he moves further from the event. This is a pattern a lot of survivors will recognise, and few outsiders expect: the assumption is that time only heals, when in practice some deficits plateau, some improve, and some, like spasticity, can progress. If you’re eighteen months, three years, five years out and still watching a symptom evolve, Tom’s experience is a useful, unglamorous data point that you are not doing recovery wrong. There’s a quieter data point too, and it cuts the other way: Tom says he hasn’t had a bad night’s sleep since the day of the stroke. For an audience where post-stroke fatigue and insomnia are close to universal, that’s a genuine outlier worth naming precisely because it complicates any single story about what stroke recovery “typically” looks like. What Changed at Home The practical texture of Tom’s recovery runs through his family: the granddaughter who acted fast, the wife who stepped in to run the household during the hardest stretch, the shift from being the one who handled everything to being the one who’s learned, in his words, that “it’s kind of a blessing” to do less. He’s candid that he hasn’t driven since the stroke and says he doesn’t feel a pull to change that. There’s no performance of getting back to “normal” here — just an honest account of a life that reorganised itself around new limits, some of which he’s made peace with and some of which, like the spasticity, he’s still working out how to hold. Why This Story Is Worth Sitting With If you came to this looking for a checklist of warning signs, Tom’s story won’t give you one, and that’s the point. Some strokes, including major hemorrhagic ones, arrive without a warning a person could reasonably have caught. What you can control is what happens after: how quickly the people around you act (his granddaughter didn’t hesitate), how you rebuild a working identity in the aftermath, and how honestly you track what’s actually getting better versus what’s quietly getting harder. Tom’s “one bad day” isn’t a promise you’ll get the same outcome. It’s permission to notice what’s still working, even while something else spasticity, driving, the parts of independence you used to take for granted hasn’t resolved yet. If Tom’s story raises questions about your own recovery, or a loved one’s, that’s exactly the conversation this show exists to have. You can go deeper into the ideas behind post-traumatic growth after stroke in Bill’s book, The Unexpected Way That A Stroke Became The Best Thing That Happened (recoveryafterstroke.com/book), and if this kind of interview is valuable to you, the show runs in part on listener support at patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. This blog is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor before making any changes to your health or recovery plan. Stroke With No Warning Signs – Tom Ballo’s One Bad Day in Eighteen Months He had zero warning signs before his stroke at 65. Eighteen months later, Tom Ballo says he’s had exactly one bad day. Highlights: 00:00 Stroke with no warning signs03:25 What kind of stroke was it08:18 Learning to talk and walk again11:42 Does he have aphasia?17:46 One bad day in eighteen months27:15 The symptom that’s getting worse33:20 The one thing that hasn’t changed Transcript: Stroke with no warning signs Tom Ballo (00:00)it just hit me out of the blue. It hit me out of the blue. There were no warning signs or anything. No. very sudden. luckily, my youngest granddaughter was there. My young granddaughter, she was five years old. She was there and I guess she saw me and she went and got her dad, who’s my son-in-law. They were living with us. At the time we had a big house and he told him, she told him and he came down and called 911 right away. Bill Gasiamis (00:39)Welcome back to Recovery After Stroke. I’m Bill Garciamas, and today’s guest is a genuinely different kind of conversation for the show. Tom Ballo spent 32 years as a telecoms litigator, retired at 56 to actually enjoy it, and nine years later, at 65, a massive hemorrhagic stroke hit him with absolutely no warning. His five-year-old granddaughter is the one who found him and got help. What you’re about to hear is a conversation that moves differently than most on this show. Tom takes his time, getting to his words, and there’s a real compassion and openness in the way he talks about what happened to him. No performance, no polish. Just the man being honest about where he’s landed 18 months on. Stay with the pace of it. That pace is part of what he’s telling you. We’re going to get into what he calls one bad day in 18 months, what’s actually gotten harder rather than easier, and what he’s learnt about who he already was before any of this happened. Remember to grab a copy of my book, The Unexpected Way That a Stroke Became the Best. thing that happened at recoveryafterstroke.com/book It’s the 10 tools I used to build my own recovery. And a lot of what Tom describes today connects straight back to it. And guys, if this show has helped you, remember you can support the show directly at Patreon by going to patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke and making a small monthly contribution. It helps cover costs of recording, editing and hosting the podcast. Bill Gasiamis (02:16)Tom Ballo, welcome to the podcast. Tom Ballo (02:18)Thank you. Glad to be here. Bill Gasiamis (02:19)Tell me a little bit about what occupied your time before stroke. Tom Ballo (02:24)Well, I retired, retired 10 years ago. So I was well acclimated to that. And I mostly doing, I had a YouTube channel. It it’s called GTA5 and Squirrels. And I said, make recordings of Grand Theft Auto V video game, really interesting videos. And then I got some squirrels that were living next to the house and one of them started was really… friendly. He kept walking up to me and finally started climbing up me and I started feeding him and I was making videos of videos of that. What kind of stroke was it Tom Ballo (03:19)I had over 1500 subscribers and 1 million views. And the whole channel just hit 1 million. Bill Gasiamis (03:30)And y you used to play GTA, Grand Theft Auto. Was it your favourite game? So you’re doing that in your retirement before you retire retired, what were you doing for a living? Tom Ballo (03:40)I was a lawyer for a real, real large telephone company for 32 years. I was a litigator and regulatory law, so it was administrative law, I was, it was just, it was cases, and they were the biggest cases that affected the company. About nine years. Bill Gasiamis (04:06)Yeah. Tom Ballo (04:07)That was one reason I retired early. I retired at age 56 and I just wanted to make sure I had time to enjoy retirement. I didn’t want to work until I died or would have had the stroke when I was working. That’d be different. I had enough time to do a lot of things. for the stroke happen. Bill Gasiamis (04:35)What what was that day like? What what did you notice? Tom Ballo (04:39)nothing, you know, it came out of nowhere. I was playing a v

Seizures After Stroke Symptoms: What Letitia Hritz Wants Every Survivor to Know It was New Year’s Day, and Letitia Hritz almost didn’t go. Her husband Jonathan wanted to hit a sale at their local mall, and she’d rather have stayed home. She went anyway, with gift certificates from Christmas, a Chinese buffet for lunch, their seven-year-old daughter in tow. They’d barely sat down at the restaurant when it started: tunnel vision, a sudden inability to speak, the desperate, wordless search for the nearest chair. “I remember sitting there,” Letitia says, “and I think I said I feel like I’m going to pass out. And that honestly was the last thing I remember.” She was 34. The emergency room staff, seeing a young woman collapse on New Year’s Day, assumed the obvious: too much celebrating the night before. It took nearly three hours, and a doctor asking her to roll over and noticing her face had dropped, before anyone called a stroke alert. By then Jonathan had already caught her as she went limp in his arms, already flagged down an off-duty paramedic eating lunch nearby, already made the drive to the ER with their daughter beside him, not yet knowing the word for what was happening to his wife. The Diagnosis No One Expected Letitia’s stroke was ischemic, centered in the left thalamus a similar injury to other survivors Bill has spoken with (recoveryafterstroke.com/thalamic-ischemic-stroke-survivor-story/), and one that comes with its own particular set of challenges around sensation, fatigue, and cognition. The cause, once doctors went looking, turned out to be a PFO, a small hole in her heart that had let a clot travel straight to her brain. It’s a cause other guests on this show have lived through too (recoveryafterstroke.com/pfo-and-stroke-recovery-yvette-adams/), and like many of them, Letitia had no idea it was there until the stroke forced the question. What followed was the version of recovery most people never hear about: inpatient rehab, then six months of outpatient therapy, a wheelchair, then a walker, then a cane she still carries today. And then, just as she seemed to be finding her footing, something stranger: a full return of her stroke symptoms, triggered by an unrelated illness, so sudden and so complete that even a family who’d spent two decades around the “stroke world” had never heard the word for it: recrudescence. “I’m glad you’ve never heard of that,” Jonathan told Bill, “because I know you’ve been doing this a long time… and we had never heard of it either.” Seizures After Stroke Symptoms: What Letitia Actually Experiences This year, a new chapter began, one this episode was built around. Letitia started having seizures. Not occasionally: close to 200 of them since January, sometimes several in a single day. What makes seizures after stroke symptoms so hard to manage isn’t just the seizures themselves, but how unpredictable the warning signs can be. “I try very hard to pay attention to how I’m feeling,” Letitia says, “but there are some days where I don’t feel well, and it’s very hard to differentiate those two feelings.” Some seizures come with a warning she’s learned to read. Others don’t; they simply arrive, and the world goes dark for a minute or three. The seizures have taken her driving privileges and, with them, a piece of her independence. They’ve also reshaped her household in a quietly heartbreaking way: her ten-year-old daughter now knows to guide her mother to the floor, pull out an iPad, and start a timer. “I hate it,” Letitia says. “I just hate it.” It’s a small, devastating image of what recovery actually asks of a family: not a single crisis to survive, but a new baseline everyone has to learn to live inside. A House That Was Never Built for This Long before the seizures, the Hritz family was already learning how much a body’s needs can outpace a home’s design. Their two-story house has eight steps from the driveway to the front door, fifteen more to the bedroom, ten down to the laundry. “I’m sitting there at thirty-four years old,” Jonathan remembers, “thinking to myself, how am I ever going to take my wife home?” It’s a question few young stroke survivors (recoveryafterstroke.com/young-stroke-survivor-izzy-hirst/) or their partners expect to face, and one more reason recovery is rarely just medical. The Cost That Never Stops Climbing Then there’s the bill. This year alone, between two hospital admissions, the Hritz family is looking at roughly $178,000 in medical costs a number that grows faster than they can pay it down. “You can make all the payments you want,” Jonathan says, “it never goes down.” It’s the kind of financial strain that stroke caregivers (recoveryafterstroke.com/stroke-caregivers/) rarely get warned about in advance, and one more layer on top of everything else the family is carrying, including, this year, college funds quietly set aside for something else. A Promise Still Being Kept Through all of it, one thing has stayed constant. Bedside in the hospital in 2023, Jonathan made Letitia a promise: that no matter what happened, they would get through it together, and he would always give her a safe place to heal. Three years, a heart procedure, a recrudescence episode, and nearly 200 seizures later, that promise is the reason their family calls their story Keeping a Promise, and it’s still, in Jonathan’s words, “something I’m still trying to keep, because we have not been able to.” Their story is a reminder of something Bill has said often on this show, in different words each time: recovery isn’t a straight line, and it doesn’t end when the hospital discharges you. As Jonathan puts it, “People just think, he was in the hospital, and he’s out now. He must be okay… They’re not okay.” What the Hritz family is living through — the seizures, the setbacks, the debt, the promise is exactly the kind of story that doesn’t get told enough. If any part of it sounds familiar, you are not the only one going through it (recoveryafterstroke.com/stroke-caregiver-journey-donna-odonnell-figurski/), and it’s worth hearing more stories like it, wherever you can find them. Bill’s book, The Unexpected Way That A Stroke Became The Best Thing That Happened, was written for exactly this: the years after the hospital, when the real work of recovery begins. Read it here: recoveryafterstroke.com/book. And if this show has helped you the way it’s helped families like the Hritzes, you can support it directly on Patreon: patreon.com/recoveryafterstroke. This blog is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice. Please consult your doctor before making any changes to your health or recovery plan. The post Jonathan & Letitia Hritz: Keeping a Promise Through Stroke, Seizures, and Everything After appeared first on Recovery After Stroke.