I don’t know how the other attendees felt, but it was a life-altering event for me. Robbins was a dynamo. I was there, in front of the convention building, and I didn’t know a soul there. After the first day, at one thirty a.m., getting ready to walk over fiery coals, he taught us how to change our mindsets and take mind over matter. “Overcome the unconscious fears that are holding you back,” Robbins proclaims. “Storm across a bed of hot coals. Once you start doing what you thought was impossible, you’ll conquer the other fires of your life with ease.”
“Only those,” he reminded us, “who have learned the power of sincere and selfless contribution will experience life’s deeper joy, true fulfillment.”
It was a message that would stand out for me, even though I had attended the conference only in the hopes to improve my delivery of presenting speeches and learn how to convey my story and my views regarding determination to my audience. He gave me that too, but that was the figurative cherry on top of something even better.
He had us sit down and think about what we had in our lives. “Write the list in order of priority,” he said. And even though he was standing in front of a huge auditorium filled with people, I felt like he was speaking directly to me. I believed he could see in my face what I was slowly coming to realize. My priorities were wrong before this stroke. I wrote it down:
Work
Work
Work
Working out/Sports
Wife and Family
No wonder I ended up getting a divorce, I thought as I looked at the list. My career had been so important to me that my family and my wife had barely made the list.
Robbins said our first priority had to be physical body and health. If you don’t have that, nothing else matters.
Our second priority should be our relationships. I broke my newfound priorities into three baskets:
To improve my relationships with my family—my brothers and sister and my close friends
To foster new and old friendships
To find someone to share my renewed life with
I made my fourth priority about education because I knew I had to improve my speech fluency and expand my word-finding skills. I learned the medical terms related to stroke, including aphasia, traumatic brain injury (TBI), left neglect, and others. I wanted to continue to learn about contemporary art and French wine.
My fifth priority was to do more small-scale public speaking. I could get out there to the hospitals and universities and tell audiences my story, share the determination, resolve, tenacity, and motivation. I wanted to build an Internet site and communication channels (social media) even if I didn’t know exactly what it was going to be for, and I realized I wanted to write a book. And that led to the sixth goal on my list—giving back.
Though I had been pretty resistant to the idea of writing a book about my experiences, I sat there listening to Robbins and thought, I need to give back. I can do that with this book, just as I can with the volunteer work.
I realized that weekend that I have a purpose, a gift to deliver: telling people, especially the population living with disabilities, not to give up. That’s a powerful message from a person who has been there, who is still in the stages of recovery, but who had turned the disability volume down and found a way to rebuild his life.
There were other ways that I could give back as well. I have now been involved with three hospitals. I give back all that I learned from my own life: therapy options, techniques, tips. I am an advocate for stroke and aphasia recovery. I have been on the board of trustees for three nonprofit institutions and continue to serve on one of them. I decided to give a donation to the Laguna College of Art and Design. They used my donation to focus on helping disabled students, and that was extremely gratifying. It felt good that I made a contribution that could change someone’s life for the better.
“For those of you not yet retired, your occupation will be a priority,” Robbins said. My occupation now is doing volunteer work, being a part of institutions’ boards, and involving myself in philanthropic issues that will allow me to make a difference.
It was also about having time with myself—me time—to feel grateful to be alive and doing new things. I was done spending my days drinking coffee at Starbucks. I gave my second pug—the one I got when I moved to California—away to a good new home because I was using the pup as an excuse to not play golf, take trips, go to wine tastings, or meet new people. I really liked having a dog, but it was for the wrong reasons, and it was not the right time. It wasn’t right for the pug, either. And I needed time to myself to regroup and ensure that I had my priorities straight.
I wrote down travel. Then, I added NYC apartment and significant relationship. Travel would be enjoyable, educational. The apartment would allow me to spend more time with my family. And significant relationship could lead to having a wife (and it did!).
Nancy
He’s so much more fun now, laughing and smiling and joking—really knee-slapping—and having a good time. He was here for Christmas dinner with us. It was so awesome. He spent the whole day with us. He just jokes all the time now. You can sit there and make him laugh for hours. He’s more lighthearted.
He always had a good time, but he used to be more serious. I didn’t ever see him slap his knee in a conversation and get hysterical talking about something silly. And talking to him just about his life, what he does nowadays . . . It’s refreshing . . . It’s like he has a new life, and he will tell you that. It’s so funny to watch.
“Don’t worry. Why do you have to worry about this if it’s in the future? The future’s going to be what you want to make of it. Just live your life at the moment,” Robbins said.
That spoke directly to me. I often wondered whether my life would always be centered around my stroke and aphasia. Would I ever be about something else? I used to be all about work and career. Now, I wanted my life to be more than only one thing. I was determined to be more. And if my decisions or path were a little off, I’d change or tweak it until I liked the path I was on.
I used to be so focused, so determined, so competitive that I wouldn’t even let my little sister win a single game of Monopoly when we were kids. Now, I started thinking about how much she meant to me in my life, how much all my family meant, and how much happiness mattered.
CHAPTER 23
In Retrospect
Before I had my stroke, the only kind of books I read were textbooks. Now, I read all kinds of books: mysteries, biographies, histories, fiction, and self-improvement. I realize the stroke has had a direct impact on my communication (speech, writing, and overall comprehension), but it came back . . . not all of it, but I am a far cry from where I was in those first years after the stroke.
I remember one time, not too long after my stroke, I was sitting on my bed with Kelly. I was reading about neurobic exercises from the book Keep Your Brain Alive by Lawrence Katz. It had so many pages that I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know the words. I didn’t know what they meant. I know now, but that moment still lives with me. I’m not a dictionary geek, but I’m always checking words and idioms, even today—always rebuilding and expanding my vocabulary and improving my fluency.
Four or five months later, I tried to read that book a second time. I could understand 40 to 50 percent, but I had to go very slowly. I went back to it after two years, and I understood a lot more.
When I put that first strategy report together for RIC, I had to do some presentations with a small group of people. They waited until the end and then asked questions. The first question was, “Of all the rehab activities you did, Ted, including speech therapists, physical trainers, doctors, neurologists, alternative medicines, psychologists, acupuncturists, and so on, which one was the most beneficial for you to come back into society?”
I couldn’t answer. There was no one thing, no single, primary focus. I told them, “It’s like osmosis—it just happens, gradually. You can feel it. You’ll know when your abilities come back. I dis
covered abilities I didn’t know I had before my stroke. I’ve done so many things. People at various times have told me to just do this or focus on that. But I had to know the rationale before I would focus on or do a particular task. When that explanation wasn’t provided, I chose a different way. I always had, and still have, strategies and options in place. I had so many things I could do, and I did as many of them as I could. There was always a purpose and a desired result for each. I always kept plugging on. So, maybe the most beneficial things were persistence and resilience.”
My comprehension is drastically improved, and that didn’t come only from reading. It came from everything I did, because it all impacted my brain, increased my pathways. All of it made a difference. The parts-of-speech class, the ESL teacher, the Northwestern and SDSU experiments, the Aphasia Club, UMAP, participating in the Chicago Archeworks program, working out, Pilates, boxing, and running, and on and on. It was the daily routine of pushing myself mentally and physically.
And not to forget, I had an amazing family and support system behind me. Kelly was always there, supporting me. My family and friends called me and checked in to see how my progress was coming along. They never gave up on my recovery, nor did they ever treat me as if I were lost, and because of that, I never felt lost.
I can’t tell you the most important component, but none of it would have worked without a positive attitude. You must stay positive.
Determination. Motivation. Tenacity. Perseverance. Persistence. Being Relentless. Don’t get yourself down if things don’t go your way. Keep trying to retool your approach; you’ll find a way to solve a problem and get yourself past any frustrations and rejections you had. Realize that these are providing valuable opportunities to learn for the next time.
Tom
Before the stroke, Ted was all business. Very serious. Since he’s recovered, he’s got such a sense of humor. He’s come almost 180 degrees now. He’s so much funnier, and all his humor—his dry sense of humor—has come out. It never came out before the stroke. He’s a different person now. I don’t know that it’s so much for the better, but it seems like a big burden was lifted off his back. He’s become a real person now. He’s not a robot who was doomed to work relentlessly every day. He’s just funny. He’s funny to be with. And we’re just as close as we were before the stroke—probably closer.
I’m not embarrassed to say this: The majority of younger brothers would look up to their older brother, right? Ted would always look up to me. But now, despite being eleven years older than him, I look up to him. He just has this power. When we go out, he makes all the decisions, and I don’t have any problems with that. I’ll meet him in Las Vegas at eleven on a Friday night, which is really two a.m. my time, and he’ll say, “Come on, let’s go out to dinner.” I’m so tired from traveling all day, but I think nothing of going out to dinner with him because he asked me to meet him.
I’d do anything in the world for him. I really would. I’m the oldest of five boys and a girl, and our relationships are good between everybody. But, between me and Teddy, it’s just something . . . special.
He didn’t pay me to say that, either.
In July 2012, two and a half years after I moved to California, I did a short PowerPoint presentation at Chapman University in Orange, California. I put together a succinct summation of what happened to me in Chicago, big pauses for me to think, and how I had amplified my own rehab so that I always felt comfortable and in charge of my recovery. It was a big moment for me, but it’s not the end of my story. It’s only the beginning of a new chapter of my life.
I’ve wondered sometimes, throughout the few years after my stroke, what would have happened if I hadn’t had a stroke. Would I still work in the financial industry? I really enjoyed it, but I spent countless hours driving my career, at the cost of having real fun and deeper relationships with my family, my friends, my wife. I could have continued to hone my financial and people skills, attained my objective of being a CFO for one of the premier hedge funds in the world, managed a group of people, contributed to the largest global institutions, and worked with world-renowned financial experts.
But now, I help people who need more support. I feel such gratification in giving back to society. It gives me pleasure to know that I can motivate people and give them hope, even when they’ve experienced a life-changing health crisis. I’m always learning and educating myself on the medical aspects of strokes and aphasia. I enjoy seeing my family and friends more than I ever did before. I try different things that I would never have had the chance to do. I learned to play and enjoy golf, joined book clubs, immersed myself in the world of art, made some great friends, and I am still meeting new faces.
I am more aware of things around me. I know myself and my identity better than before. During my recovery, I focused on hearing what others had to say, especially when my speaking was dormant. I’ve become an excellent listener, especially at times when I experience anxiety and stress, when my speech is not so fluent.
Yes—I’m having fun more than before my stroke. And that is doing a world of good for me. I’ve created a new, better blueprint for my life. I am blessed to have the chance to have a fresh start.
My story is still being written, in a sense. I’m speaking in more places to spread the word about my experiences, the power of determination, and the possibility to change the patterns in our lives. I have a totally different perspective on life, a completely different way of going through my days, weeks, months, and years. I’m engaged in living, instead of in work.
Life is not a sprint, but a journey that is meant to be fully enjoyed.
Epilogue
The trick to getting through the hardest times in life is to remember that there are many roadblocks along the way, but often, when you conquer those obstacles, there is greater happiness awaiting you on the other side.
After living in California, on my own for a while, I was ready to begin dating again. I had friends who were supportive during that time in my life. Ultimately, it was one of those friends who suggested a blind date. As most would, I hesitated before agreeing. At this point, I had been through so much, so many awkward, difficult moments, I knew that I could survive even the worst blind date. So I finally agreed to go.
“Good evening, Michelle. This is Ted,” I said that day, letting her know that I had gotten her number from our mutual friend. I was quick to suggest that we should meet in person. “I’m not interrupting your dinner or anything, am I?”
“Well, actually,” she responded, “it’s not really evening here. It’s nearly ten o’clock.” This was followed by a lighthearted laugh. “I’m going to be in New York City for the next three months,” she added. I had been told by our friend that she was working in film production. “You could always come here to see me,” she suggested, but it was clear that she doubted I would agree to do so. She didn’t know, yet, that my family still lived in New York. I hadn’t realized that she was raised as an East Coaster too.
Two weeks later, I took a gamble that would ultimately lead to a big payoff. I boarded the plane and landed in New York City not long before we were scheduled to meet for a sushi dinner at Blue Ribbon, in Soho. Of course, I also contacted some of my family members to see if they had anything planned that week and if they could visit.
Typically, a first date—especially a blind date—would be awkward, but Michelle and I had been talking on the phone for two weeks at that point. Each of our phone calls had stretched for nearly an hour. I already knew about her job and about how she valued her family, her education, and her friends immensely. There was one big thing that she didn’t know about me, though.
“I had a stroke several years ago,” I told her, dropping it as naturally as possible into our dinner conversation. We’d been at the restaurant, enjoying sushi and sake, for a while. She later told me that she thought the alcohol was to blame for the slight slur in my speech, but I took the time to explain, briefly, all that I had been through to recover my spee
ch and my physical abilities. I didn’t go too in depth, though. It wasn’t the time to get into how influential aphasia had been in my life. I waited until the third date for that. Surely, that’s what they mean by the “third-date rule.”
When she laughed at that joke and others like it, I knew that we’d be going on many more dates together. This was the first person in a long while with whom I felt so comfortable. No matter what we did or where we were, we managed to find reasons to laugh together. At home, in the quiet of my apartment or hers, we would sit together on the couch and watch television, simply enjoying the moments of peace. Breaking Bad quickly became a favorite show of ours, and one that we would discuss, even when we couldn’t be together and even when we were hundreds of miles apart.
One day we were talking on the phone while she was working on location on a film project in New Mexico. “Come see me,” she said. We knew that if I didn’t go to her, we wouldn’t see each other for several weeks, so I jumped on another plane. She was even more excited to see me than usual. She had a surprise up her sleeve. “You know, they shoot Breaking Bad just down the road,” she said with a suggestive smile.
I laughed, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I was thinking we could go grab a quick Tex Mex dinner and drive by. What do you think?” I thought it was a great suggestion and smiled broadly at her surprise. We drove by the house that evening, but apparently, we weren’t the first to think of doing so. Someone from the house came out to the road and wrote down our license plate number. We looked at each other and laughed, both imagining a call from the police regarding our new stalker status and decided that we might as well get something out of it. So, we jumped out of the car and took some selfies in front of the house.
That is the beautiful part about being with Michelle; we always manage to find fun wherever we go, spontaneity. I’ve talked with her about my past, the stroke, and the aphasia. With other new people, there would be some awkward moments, but with Michelle, that awkwardness never existed. She seems to be able to read my mind, even when I can’t get my thought out. She understands me in a way that others never did. We’ve traveled a lot, from the start of our relationship. A lot of the travel was because of her job, but we also visited friends and family. On one of those trips, we decided to stay with her parents, which worked out to my benefit.
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