“I Think I’m Having a Stroke” - My Life Changed at 31

By Steve

I never expected that, at 31, I’d be living through a stroke. But on 29 January 2024, just after lunch, I was working from home when everything changed.

I’d just gotten off the lounge when I heard this strange buzzing in my ear. Then, bang - no balance. I felt drunk, dizzy, like the room had tipped. I collapsed. As I was falling, I slurred to my dad, “I think I’m having a stroke.” The irony? That same morning, I’d asked him if he was having a stroke. He’d just finished the night shift and looked completely out of it. He didn’t know what day it was. I was worried about him - and hours later, I’d be the one in an ambulance.

From that moment, everything became a blur. During the CT scan, I couldn’t stop moving uncontrollably. I was twitching, jerking, slurring my words. My left side had gone numb, but I kept saying “I’m paralysed.” Maybe I meant numb. My speech was off, but only I could really tell at first. I was sweating, scared, and confused.

Despite all the signs, I wasn’t taken seriously straight away. The paramedics weren’t sure what was going on, they asked if I wanted to go to hospital. I said, “I don’t want to, but I need to.” At first, the doctors thought it might be mental health related too. And while I understand strokes in younger people are rare, I don’t think assumptions like that should ever change the level of care or urgency. I didn’t drink; I wasn’t on anything. I was just a young guy having a cerebellar stroke, something nobody expected.

It took over two hours after that initial CT scan before I was rushed lights and sirens to North Shore for emergency surgery and clot-busting drugs. I remember begging the surgical team to just put me to sleep and wake me when it was over. When I woke up in ICU, I could open my right eye. My face wasn’t drooping, but I had shivers from the anesthetic. I realised then how close it had all been.

Looking back, there were signs. Four days before, I couldn’t finish mowing the lawn. Two days before, my vision was blurry, and I couldn’t sit still. I wrote it off as maybe depression. I never thought about a stroke.

Physically, I was lucky. I had tremors, twitching, and vision issues, but I made progress fast. I was out of bed by day three, running in the physio ward with their help. They told me the first three months are crucial for neuroplasticity, so I didn’t waste time. I got home and did every exercise I could find, especially for my left side, which had taken the hit. I used the stroke hand exercise app, walked daily, even tried rehab. It helped, but emotionally - that was the hardest part.

I’d cry every few days for no clear reason. The mood swings, the confusion, the brain pain, it was overwhelming. Being young in a stroke ward, surrounded by much older patients, made it all feel even more surreal. There was no clear cause, no high blood pressure, no cholesterol, no hole in the heart. I’m now part of the 20% who have a “cryptogenic” stroke, a fancy word for “no known cause.” That uncertainty still messes with me. I’ve seen second opinions, one said it’s a 1% chance cause, the other couldn’t say. So now I just have to accept it.

The support I had made all the difference. My dad saved my life by acting so fast, despite me being collapsed in shorts with no undies (still can’t believe that). He called the ambulance, stayed calm, and got me the help I needed. The paramedics were kind and professional, despite my embarrassment. My brother and his wife were there too, though the stress made communication with the hospital hard. I had amazing nurses, doctors, and physios who gave me resources on young stroke, but some things were still missed.

The assumption of mental health lingered. Even work first thought it was stress-related and sent mental health support. While I appreciated that, I was three days into a hospital stay with a brain injury and they were already asking for a doctor’s certificate and return-to-work plan. Luckily, I wasn’t alone. My close friend, my aunt (also a survivor of stroke), her daughter, and extended family were there. Friends showed up too, even if they didn’t fully understand what I’d gone through.

I didn’t drink for 9 months after the stroke. I was nervous flying to a wedding. I got therapy, which helped. I returned to work three weeks later, but I noticed the subtle signs, little memory errors or moments of confusion. Stuff no one else could see. When you’re young and look okay, people assume you are okay. But stroke doesn’t always leave visible scars. It’s cut-throat out there. I use humour to get by, but group conversations are harder now. I’m more serious than I used to be.

EnableMe, YoungStroke, walking, and balance rehab exercises kept me moving. But some days I didn’t feel like trying at all. I’d just remind myself: You came back from something huge. That invisible story? It’s mine to carry. And I know I’m lucky.

Last year in Stride4Stroke I started raising funds for stroke research and support, and I hit over $1K. I want to be part of finding the next game-changer. I want to speak up, especially for young survivors who get misread or dismissed. Because strokes aren’t just for the elderly. At 31, I didn’t fit the stereotype. But it happened anyway.

My advice? Take it slow. Be kind to yourself. Talk about it, even if people don’t get it. Focus on what you can do today. Notice when you’re judging or comparing yourself. And remember, just because someone looks fine doesn’t mean they’re not battling.

Big thanks to my dad, the emergency teams, the ICU and rehab staff, my friends and family, and my guardian angel mum. I’m still here. And I’ve got more living to do.