The comeback that created the movement…stroke survivors can!
Before my stroke, I spent my professional life helping others as a licensed therapist—a career I loved. One night after work, my son asked if I wanted to work out with him and a friend in our family room. I figured, why not? I could lose a little weight. Not long into the workout, I became suddenly exhausted and laid down on the floor.
That’s when my life changed.
I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t talk. My face looked wrong. I didn’t know it then, but I was having a massive ischemic stroke. I was rushed to the hospital, received TPA, and eventually transferred to a stroke rehabilitation facility.
The date was January 24, 2012.
In that moment, I truly believed my life was over.
A piece of plaque had traveled up my left carotid artery and lodged in my brain, killing parts of it. Because the stroke affected the left side of my brain, I lost my speech and much of the function on the right side of my body. I could read—but couldn’t identify letters. Writing, standing, swallowing, and balancing were difficult or impossible. I used a wheelchair. I had to leave the career I loved. I couldn’t play my electric bass anymore because my right hand wouldn’t cooperate.
Everything I thought defined me was gone.
What carried me forward was support. My girlfriend—who later became my wife—my children, colleagues, and friends stood by me. I received speech, occupational, and physical therapy until insurance ran out. When I could no longer afford care, generous providers stepped in, some offering services at no cost. I leaned on community, creativity, and grit.
With encouragement from Idaho State University’s Speech and Language Program, I helped start an Aphasia Stroke Recovery Support Program. I also improvised. About a year after my stroke, I began working out again—short bike rides, light weights, swimming. Progress was slow, but it was progress. I still remember the pride I felt the first time I biked 10 miles and swam 200 yards. I was more active than I had been in decades before my stroke.
Before my stroke, I spent my professional life helping others as a licensed therapist—a career I loved. One night after work, my son asked if I wanted to work out with him and a friend in our family room. I figured, why not? I could lose a little weight. Not long into the workout, I became suddenly exhausted and laid down on the floor.
That’s when my life changed.
I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t talk. My face looked wrong. I didn’t know it then, but I was having a massive ischemic stroke. I was rushed to the hospital, received TPA, and eventually transferred to a stroke rehabilitation facility.
The date was January 24, 2012.
In that moment, I truly believed my life was over.
A piece of plaque had traveled up my left carotid artery and lodged in my brain, killing parts of it. Because the stroke affected the left side of my brain, I lost my speech and much of the function on the right side of my body. I could read—but couldn’t identify letters. Writing, standing, swallowing, and balancing were difficult or impossible. I used a wheelchair. I had to leave the career I loved. I couldn’t play my electric bass anymore because my right hand wouldn’t cooperate.
Everything I thought defined me was gone.
What carried me forward was support. My girlfriend—who later became my wife—my children, colleagues, and friends stood by me. I received speech, occupational, and physical therapy until insurance ran out. When I could no longer afford care, generous providers stepped in, some offering services at no cost. I leaned on community, creativity, and grit.
With encouragement from Idaho State University’s Speech and Language Program, I helped start an Aphasia Stroke Recovery Support Program. I also improvised. About a year after my stroke, I began working out again—short bike rides, light weights, swimming. Progress was slow, but it was progress. I still remember the pride I felt the first time I biked 10 miles and swam 200 yards. I was more active than I had been in decades before my stroke.
In 2015, my wife and I moved to Kona, Hawaii. Looking back, it felt like divine intervention. Shortly after arriving, I volunteered at the Ironman World Championships. Watching those athletes sparked a thought I couldn’t ignore: I could do something like that.
So I did.
I started training for triathlons—not to prove anything to the world, but to prove to myself, and to other stroke survivors, that we can do hard things.
That became my new purpose.
Instead of helping people from a therapist’s chair, I repurposed my life to help stroke survivors find meaning, strength, and hope. I wanted others to know that their lives are not wasted—that with determination, support, and belief, a powerful life is still possible.
Since my stroke, I’ve met countless survivors and families who feel lost and don’t know where to turn. Too often, that uncertainty turns into hopelessness. That’s why I founded Stroke Survivors CAN! in 2018—to create a space of connection, empowerment, and credible resources that help survivors move forward.
The message is simple:
Don’t let anyone define who you are.
Don’t let a diagnosis become a prison.
Don’t let self-limiting beliefs steal your future.
Dream big. Ridiculously big.
Stroke Survivors CAN!
