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Hi, I’m Tania -- |
My Stroke. My Recovery. My Story.
What Happened
On August 8, 2020, my life changed forever. I woke up feeling fine. About 15 minutes later, I saw a blinding flash of light in my right eye—like a crack of lightning. I immediately felt unsteady and thought I might be experiencing a migraine. Soon after, I couldn’t locate my left arm, and then I collapsed onto the floor. I did not know I was having a stroke.
In the ER, doctors initially suspected a complex migraine. Processing the chain of events from that morning is still ongoing. I spent a week in the ICU to raise and stabilize my blood pressure, followed by another week in the hospital. During that time, I developed new symptoms and was found to have bleeding.
After a brief return to the ICU and a confirmed hemorrhagic conversion, I finished August in the hospital, then a short stay in an inpatient rehabilitation facility. Even now, I find myself wondering whether that means I had two strokes.
What I Learned
An echocardiogram in the ICU revealed I had a PFO (patent foramen ovale)—a small hole in my heart that didn’t close after birth as it typically should. In November 2020, I had surgery to repair the hole, which significantly reduced my risk of another stroke. And something I still find remarkable: I watched the entire procedure.
Bloodwork done in preparation for surgery showed a clotting disorder—antiphospholipid syndrome (AN-te-fos-fo-LIP-id syndrome), a condition that can cause blood clots to form in both arteries and veins. I now live with it and am on a #bloodthinnerforlife.
I'm Lucky. And Grateful.
“You’re lucky.” That’s what nearly every medical professional has told me—lucky to have my sight, to avoid more severe deficits, and simply to be here. I don’t feel lucky to have had a stroke, but I am deeply grateful for the healing journey, the people who have walked it with me, and what it continues to teach me.
About 20% of people have a PFO, and only a small percentage of those will experience a stroke. I fall within that rare overlap. I don’t take that lightly. I’m here now with a deeper purpose: to live fully, and to help others feel more informed, supported, and less alone.
→ Read Blog Reflections
Embracing Imperfection
Recovery isn’t linear—it’s messy, unpredictable, and often difficult. I’ve learned to find meaning in imperfection, whether in art, movement, or daily life. Each small win matters, and noticing those moments has been central to my healing.
Six Years Later: Becoming Who I Am Now
I’m often asked to measure recovery on a scale from 0 to 100%. I’ll never be exactly who I was before my stroke—and I don't try to be. I’ve seen the images of my brain; I understand what changed.
What matters now is not returning to who I was, but becoming fully who I am.
On August 8, 2026, I will mark six years since my stroke. This milestone is not about closure. It’s about integration—of everything that came before and everything that has been rebuilt since.
Recovery, for me, has not been a straight line or a finished state. It has been a process of learning how to live inside a changed body and mind, while still choosing presence, creativity, connection, and purpose.
Tania 2.0 is not a departure from who I was. She is what remains, what has evolved, and what continues to unfold. Not defined by loss, but shaped by what I’ve learned to carry forward.
This is where I am now: not after the story, but within it—still becoming, still living, and still listening to what this life asks of me next.
→ Subscribe for Updates
On August 8, 2020, my life changed forever. I woke up feeling fine. About 15 minutes later, I saw a blinding flash of light in my right eye—like a crack of lightning. I immediately felt unsteady and thought I might be experiencing a migraine. Soon after, I couldn’t locate my left arm, and then I collapsed onto the floor. I did not know I was having a stroke.
In the ER, doctors initially suspected a complex migraine. Processing the chain of events from that morning is still ongoing. I spent a week in the ICU to raise and stabilize my blood pressure, followed by another week in the hospital. During that time, I developed new symptoms and was found to have bleeding.
After a brief return to the ICU and a confirmed hemorrhagic conversion, I finished August in the hospital, then a short stay in an inpatient rehabilitation facility. Even now, I find myself wondering whether that means I had two strokes.
What I Learned
An echocardiogram in the ICU revealed I had a PFO (patent foramen ovale)—a small hole in my heart that didn’t close after birth as it typically should. In November 2020, I had surgery to repair the hole, which significantly reduced my risk of another stroke. And something I still find remarkable: I watched the entire procedure.
Bloodwork done in preparation for surgery showed a clotting disorder—antiphospholipid syndrome (AN-te-fos-fo-LIP-id syndrome), a condition that can cause blood clots to form in both arteries and veins. I now live with it and am on a #bloodthinnerforlife.
I'm Lucky. And Grateful.
“You’re lucky.” That’s what nearly every medical professional has told me—lucky to have my sight, to avoid more severe deficits, and simply to be here. I don’t feel lucky to have had a stroke, but I am deeply grateful for the healing journey, the people who have walked it with me, and what it continues to teach me.
About 20% of people have a PFO, and only a small percentage of those will experience a stroke. I fall within that rare overlap. I don’t take that lightly. I’m here now with a deeper purpose: to live fully, and to help others feel more informed, supported, and less alone.
→ Read Blog Reflections
Embracing Imperfection
Recovery isn’t linear—it’s messy, unpredictable, and often difficult. I’ve learned to find meaning in imperfection, whether in art, movement, or daily life. Each small win matters, and noticing those moments has been central to my healing.
- Creative expression has become a form of meditation, revealing subtle reflections of mood, mindset, and change over time.
- Mindfulness and community have provided grounding, support, and perspective throughout my recovery.
Six Years Later: Becoming Who I Am Now
I’m often asked to measure recovery on a scale from 0 to 100%. I’ll never be exactly who I was before my stroke—and I don't try to be. I’ve seen the images of my brain; I understand what changed.
What matters now is not returning to who I was, but becoming fully who I am.
On August 8, 2026, I will mark six years since my stroke. This milestone is not about closure. It’s about integration—of everything that came before and everything that has been rebuilt since.
Recovery, for me, has not been a straight line or a finished state. It has been a process of learning how to live inside a changed body and mind, while still choosing presence, creativity, connection, and purpose.
Tania 2.0 is not a departure from who I was. She is what remains, what has evolved, and what continues to unfold. Not defined by loss, but shaped by what I’ve learned to carry forward.
This is where I am now: not after the story, but within it—still becoming, still living, and still listening to what this life asks of me next.
→ Subscribe for Updates
My 2-Minute Stroke Story for Go Red for Women
Milestones & Recovery: 2026 → 2020
2026 – Expanding Impact
- Selected as a Go Red for Women NYC Class of Survivors, continuing advocacy for women’s heart and stroke health.
- Attending the International Stroke Conference as a participant and panelist, sharing insights from personal experience.
- Planning my future CycleNation NYC ride to support stroke awareness, brain health, and community engagement.
- Continuing to integrate art, mindfulness, and storytelling into recovery, advocacy, and connection with others navigating life after stroke.
- Selected as a member of the Go Red for Women Class of Survivors, raising awareness about stroke in women.
- Served on the Patient Engagement in Science and Research Subcommittee for the American Heart Association, contributing as a patient representative to scientific guideline development and ensuring the patient perspective is included in research and care standards.
- Returned to Denver on the five-year anniversary of my hospital release to ride in CycleNation, celebrating recovery and advocacy.
- Continued creative and advocacy work through storytelling, art, and public speaking.
- Became a LoveYourBrain ambassador, supporting and connecting with retreat participants.
- Spoke publicly about my journey through platforms like Beyond Stillness, deepening public connection and advocacy.
- Began showing my art publicly, embraced life as an artist, and created my home studio.
- Engaged with community and peers, highlighting the importance of awareness and shared experience in recovery.
- Spoke publicly about my journey through platforms like Beyond Stillness, fostering understanding and raising awareness.
- Created my Concussion Sketchbook, exploring the perfection of imperfection after a mild concussion reconnected me with creative work.
- Raised awareness during Stroke Awareness Month for the first time on Instagram, sharing insights and resources.
- Shared my story on The Moth, fostering understanding and connection.
- Continued mindfulness practice through LoveYourBrain programs and attended my first retreat in Maine.
- Launched this blog to share my journey, insights, and recovery with others.
- Began training my service dog, Stevie, in January 2022, embracing new challenges and responsibilities.
- Became a Mindset Facilitator for LoveYourBrain, stepping into a role that required trust in myself and my voice.
- Learned patience, persistence, and the power of partnership — while also discovering the confidence to take risks and explore new possibilities
- First steps toward independence with small daily victories.
- Noticed moments of progress that built confidence and momentum.
- Visual and auditory processing affected; left-side mobility and sensation impaired.
- One month in the hospital and acute rehab; began early rehabilitation and learning to navigate daily life again.