Ten years ago I had a spinal stroke

By Nikki

I am coming up to my 10-year stroke anniversary. To recognise this milestone, I am taking on a huge challenge to remind myself that stroke and its impacts don't define me. I am also using this moment to give back to my community through the Stroke Foundation.

Recovering from a stroke is a journey—a deeply personal one—I want to share my story and some lessons I’ve learned along the way. I hope my experience resonates with you and offers some encouragement.

Ten years ago, I had a spinal stroke while living in Germany. It wasn’t immediately recognised as a stroke—the signs and symptoms of a spinal stroke can be quite different from the more commonly known F.A.S.T. signs. Initially misdiagnosed as a slipped disc, it took over 32 hours to receive a diagnosis and begin treatment. By that time, I had partial paralysis on my left side and had lost the use of my stomach muscles. The road ahead seemed uncertain and daunting.

Once in the hospital, I was put on blood thinners to dissolve the clot. The process was grueling, with injections three times a day and countless tests. The language barrier added another layer of difficulty, but my intermediate German skills improved quickly as I navigated medical terms I’d never learned before.

The early days of recovery were both physically and emotionally challenging. I was scared and unsure of how much I would recover. But I was also determined. My job at the time was as a Snowsports instructor, and I had just two months to regain enough strength to return to the slopes. This goal became my motivation.

Rehabilitation support in the hospital was minimal. I saw a physiotherapist twice, and the sessions were brief. But one of the most memorable moments was walking downstairs for the first time. It was terrifying to trust my left leg, but once I did, stairs became my daily training tool. I used them to build confidence and strength, often choosing them over the slow elevator to my room.

Once I was no longer hooked up to constant monitoring, I became my own physiotherapist. To occupy my time I spent hours studying how my right leg moved and mimicking those movements with my left. My first attempt at jogging was up the hospital corridor—a limping shuffle, but it felt incredible to move again. By six weeks post-stroke, I managed to run some kilometers. It wasn’t fast or pretty, but it was a start.

Skiing was my passion, and getting back on the slopes was a significant milestone. I took it slow, starting with friends who were experienced trainers to ensure my technique was solid. That winter, I regained my confidence and strength on the snow. Running, which had always been my way to burn off energy, became even more important in my recovery. Over time, what started as short training runs turned into a love for distance-running. Exploring trails and pushing my limits has been both grounding and empowering.

I discovered that recovery is not linear. It’s a journey filled with highs and lows, and every step forward is a victory. Here are some key lessons I’ve learned:

Never give up: Your mind is your most powerful tool. Stubborn belief in yourself and your abilities can drive incredible progress.

Listen to your body: Pay attention to what your body is telling you. Learn to distinguish between discomfort that you can push through and pain that needs attention.
Celebrate small wins: Every achievement, no matter how small, is a step forward. Whether it’s walking a few extra steps or running your first kilometer, these moments matter.

Build strength gradually: Strength training has been transformative for me. It not only improved my physical recovery but also helped me reconnect with my body and rebuild confidence.

Stay positive and be kind to yourself: Recovery is challenging, but maintaining a positive outlook can make all the difference. Focus on what you can do rather than what you can’t.

Today, I’m stronger than ever. Training for ultra-marathons has pushed me to new limits, both physically and mentally. My left side still feels weaker, and my nervous system overreacts to injuries which sets off my nerves, the pain can be excruciating. I am also learning to manage incontinence when I am running, it can be a struggle, but over time I am seeing some improvement, and I am learning to adapt.

The power of routine and discipline I get from running has become my therapy, my challenge, and my joy. I understand recovery takes time, effort, and an unwavering belief in myself. Things may be different, and can be far from easy, but I believe we have the power to define our own journey. I have found that focusing on what makes me happy and finding ways to incorporate it into recovery is important - doing what you love can be a powerful motivator.

"I believe you are stronger than you think, and your journey is uniquely yours. Keep going—you’ve got this."