I had a stroke at 13. I was lucky.

By Taro Zimmerman

"What’s your name?”

“Who am I?” 

“Where are you?” 

It’s December 2016. I am 13 years old and lying in a room in a hospital. A team of doctors is asking me questions every four hours, day and night. I cannot remember a thing. I cannot speak. And I cannot move my right side. 

I have suffered a stroke after collapsing in a gym. At the hospital, my progress was uneven — in and out of the intensive care unit. I ended up having 10 MRIs, along with a transesophageal echocardiogram, a sonogram, a spinal tap and just about every other test they could think of. 

They found a hole in my heart and damage to blood vessels in my brain. But they never figured out why I had had a stroke. Cryptogenic, they call it a nice vocabulary word but a terrible burden. At first, it was unclear if I would survive, then if I would recover, and if so, how much. But I was “lucky.” Several weeks later, I became an inpatient at a rehabilitation facility. I was determined to stand up, feed myself and walk out of there. 

I did that with the help of the great staff at the facility, and now, at age 19, I am a college student at a top university in the U.S.! I do not discount the role of luck. However, I also know the driving force behind my recovery: my desire to keep being myself. On the other hand, I also know how quickly it can all be taken away. I have tremendous gratitude for everything that I have been given, and I don’t intend to waste a day.  

For more information on this health topic, visit stroke.org.

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