Imagine this: it’s mid-afternoon and you’re in a café. You’re trying to connect your laptop to the café’s broadband when suddenly the world tilts. Not the actual world – just your own inner world.

A text pings on to your phone – simple words, a short message… but you can’t comprehend it. You see the words and letters, they look familiar, but you can’t read them. Your laptop refuses to do what it’s supposed to. You look at the keys; they might as well be hieroglyphics.

As you pack up your stuff and try to say goodbye to the waitress who’d brought you your coffee just ten minutes earlier, no words come out. Panic rises, hands go clammy, your whole body breaks out in a sweat: it’s just the coffee, you tell yourself. It’s just deadline anxiety. But you know in your rapidly beating heart it’s neither…

So what was wrong with me?

Apart from the panic, I felt OK. But I knew something was very wrong. It’s nothing dramatic, it’s just odd. A quiet, insidious shutdown, my brain protesting… overload.

This was my reality one ordinary Thursday. The sudden onset of what initially appeared to be a transient ischemic attack (TIA) – a “mini-stroke”.

Fortunately, I got to A&E in time to avert disaster and swerve a full-on stroke. I was given emergency intravenous medications to lower my blood pressure. I was in hospital for three days but when I got home I started to wonder how many people actually suffer from TIAs, strokes or near-misses like me, and how many change as a result of that experience.

After posting about my experience on social media, I discovered that a lot of people had been through similar and many through much worse. Some don’t survive and some struggle to recover, but the vast majority bounce back.

Although it can be extremely tough at the time, most stroke-sufferers I’ve now spoken to say a TIA or stroke doesn’t have to signal the end. Far from it. It can be the fierce, unyielding catalyst for reinvention, a neurological nudge toward a life more aligned, more valued, more YOURS.

How a catastrophic event can reshape your future

In the UK, where around 100,000 strokes occur annually, the narrative often fixates on loss, the physical hurdles, the emotional toll. Yet emerging research paints a more hopeful portrait, one where survivors not only endure, but evolve psychologically in ways that enrich their lives.

A groundbreaking meta ethnography by UK researchers at the University of Salford synthesised patient experiences from multiple studies, revealing how stroke rehabilitation fosters a profound “evolution of identity.” Drawing from 13 international trials, it highlights how positive psycho-social shifts, bolstered by hope, robust social support and enhanced self-efficacy, can reshape survivors’ sense of self over time.

Staff encouragement and community networks play pivotal roles, turning vulnerability into strength. Participants described reclaiming autonomy, reconciling their pre- and post-stroke identities, and emerging with renewed purpose. Not despite the event, but because of it.

Read more: How dance therapy can improve stroke recovery

This isn’t isolated optimism

A 2023 systematic review in the International Journal of Nursing Studies, involving 60 global studies (many UK-led), identified 39 post-event treatments that demonstrably improved psychosocial well-being post-stroke. These included dialogue-based therapies and narrative approaches, which help survivors reframe their stories, reducing anxiety and isolation while focusing on resilience.

UK guidelines from the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) echo this, recommending tailored psychological therapies that yield moderate-to-large reductions in depression and anxiety symptoms. The results are encouraging with up to 50% reliable recovery rates in some cohorts.

…dialogue-based therapies and narrative approaches, which help survivors reframe their stories, reduce anxiety and isolation

One feasibility study from Akershus University Hospital tested a guided self-determination intervention, where stroke survivors reported feeling “enriched” by sharing their experiences, gaining emotional tools to navigate distress and foster long-term coping.

Even in chronic phases, the Oxford Chronic Stroke Project (OX-CHRONIC), a UK longitudinal study, underscores that while challenges like fatigue persist, targeted support stabilises mood and boosts quality of life. With many survivors prioritising – and achieving – psychological recovery years later.

A joined-up approach to recovery

The Stroke Association’s approach to rehab includes a push for integrated care that addresses the “hidden” effects of stroke survival. These include mood swings, eroded confidence, feelings of despair – and encourages patients not to see them as permanent scars, but as potential points for growth.

Psychological interventions, from cognitive behavioural therapy to self-help relaxation, outperform the results from simply taking medications alone when managing symptoms, encouraging survivors to cultivate adaptive mindsets: acceptance, self-esteem and even positive affect that reignites social participation.

In essence, a stroke can rewire not just the brain’s circuits, but reset its compass – pointing toward more positive changes.

My own story – despite it not involving a full-on TIA or stroke – bears this out. A personal testament to how crisis can clarify. For me, after the initial panic and confusion, it felt as if a tangled overgrown pathway had been cleared. I can’t speak for victims of serious stroke, but I can speak as someone who teetered on the edge of that for a few days and whose experience is therefore somewhat piqued interest in the subject.

That Thursday, disoriented and silent, I stumbled home, my pulse thundering in my ears

I called my daughter and she suggested I check my blood pressure. It was perilously high. By the time I got to A&E, it was 240/180.

I was kept in the resuscitation bay and given emergency IV drugs. I had a CT scan, blood tests and eye exams mapping the unseen threats. And I was kept in ‘Resus’ overnight, monitors beeping, then wheeled to a ward as the meds wrestled my blood pressure down until it then hit a way-too-low 90/70. Another night of watchful waiting and, by the following evening, my BP stabilised. The days that followed are blurred by exhaustion; was it the sleepless nights at the hospital that wore me out? Or the side effects of the drugs?

Yet, piercing that haze, I sensed a shift. The hospital staff – charming, kind, unflaggingly professional – left me grateful, cheered up by their humanity and empathy. I felt elated and relieved, but this was no near-death epiphany. (I’ve danced with that spectre before and emerged unchanged.) No, this was more subtle, a brain-level recalibration, as if neurons had huddled in conference and taken a vote.

It was time to take action!

For many gruelling years, I’d poured my energy into others’ lives. Caring not just for family and friends but also (through my work as a journalist and filmmaker) extending lifelines to strangers. I penned articles, produced films, guested on podcasts, hosted a chat show. Often without payment, a compulsion born of a desire to help, without considering the toll this might take.

I knew working that way was unwise, but I naively believed that everything would work out fine in the end. Perhaps foolishly I believed in karma (not so much anymore) and was certain that kindness was always repaid. If I was generous with my time and energy, all would be well. What an idiot I was! Taking that route cost me dearly: my home sold under duress, confidence shattered, the will to go on flickering dangerously low on dark nights.

The near-miss TIA didn’t just threaten my life; it illuminated all the dark corners and shone a light on my own personal ledger book. Something in my brain – stressed to malfunction – whispered “You are worth more.”

I suddenly had an overwhelming sense of purpose and self-worth, a fierce determination to reclaim the reins. No more diffusion of my gifts into the void. I’m done with the gratis grind. No More Mrs Nice Guy! I know now that I must charge for my words, my vision, my value. Articles, films, shows, books – all now fenced with fair boundaries and proper pricing. It’s not bitterness, it’s not bigheadedness – it’s liberation. That brain blip powered up a woman who now knows her efforts demand equity, her light deserves reward.

In terms of avoiding this happening again…

I don’t like taking pharmaceutical meds, but the docs stressed that I was in an emergency situation. And after giving me IV ACE inhibitor Ramipril, they recommended I continue on it in pill form. I’ve been taking it now for six weeks and my BP is still high. Today’s reading is 194/117.

I’m having a device fitted to my arm for 24 hours in two weeks’ time which will take hourly readings, so they can get to the bottom of what’s causing the problem. In the meantime, I’ve cut out alcohol and wheat, and I’m also trying to cut out sugar.

I think perhaps the cause is not enough exercise – working on that – and maybe a lack of physical affection. After being in end-to-end relationships for over 40 years, I suddenly decided to go it alone five years ago. It’s benefited me in many ways, but has it affected my blood pressure? Who knows?

I’ve had every medical test under the sun now and one doctor commented that I might be one of those people who just naturally has high blood pressure. Others have said it could be hereditary and untreatable. (My parents both had high BP.)

For now, it’s a bit of a mystery but hopefully what happened five weeks ago won’t happen again. Just not sure how to make sure it doesn’t though.

A stroke – or a brush with one – may arrive unbidden…

But it needn’t steal your future. As those UK studies affirm, with support and intention, it can illuminate paths to psychological flourishing.

Stronger identities, resilient coping, lives laced with deeper meaning. My café blackout was no elegy; it was a stepping stone to this new bold chapter.

The world didn’t end that afternoon – and, oddly, the fact that it could have done wasn’t the point: it began anew. And, although no one is happy to endure such misfortune, like all my adversities, I feel privileged to have glimpsed into that world, lived to tell my tale and to feel stronger as a person because of it.

Have you experienced something similar? Let us know in the comments below.

Jacqui Deevoy

Jacqui Deevoy has been a freelance journalist for over three decades, starting out on teenage magazines, then later working for women’s magazines worldwide, and national newspapers including the Daily Mail, the Mirror, Express and Telegraph. These days, as well as writing for magazines, papers and websites, she produces documentaries and hosts a Monday night talk show for Unprecedented TV.

The post How nearly having a stroke changed my life appeared first on Silver Magazine.

London, the late 80s. Smoky fug and sticky floors at the Astoria. Boisterous crowds and monkey boots. And music. This is largely what I remember from my late teens before I discovered house music and ecstasy; sweating it out over pints of strong lager and men twice my height to see bands that I loved. And probably top of the list for that live experience was Cardiacs.

When The Fall’s Mark E Smith died recently, threaded through the slightly sycophantic grief was the observation that with the music, you either got it, or you didn’t. And actually I think that’s a fair statement. But nothing could be more true of Cardiacs either. If you ‘got it’, the music was a violent funfair ride of extraordinary genius. If you didn’t, it probably sounded like your worst nightmares, performed by insane bullies in romper suits and clown makeup.

If you ‘got it’, the music was a violent funfair ride of extraordinary genius. If you didn’t, it probably sounded like your worst nightmares

If I’m honest, Cardiacs is a bit of both. At the foot of this article are some opportunities to hear some Cardiacs if you haven’t already. Because everyone should. But seeing them live was where the real magic happened. I’m kicking 50 now and I’ve seen a lot of live music, but I don’t think anything has ever come close to the frenetic energy of Cardiacs, smashing through insane chord and tempo changes, wonky basslines, soaring anthemic keyboards, thrashing punk guitars and lilting proggy melodies. There’s no category for their music, and nobody should even try. Far better writers than me have had a go. There’s no point.

The shows would often open with the kind of track that should be the crescendo. No messing around here, or meandering from the bar as the thing started. You were in it from the start or you might as well fuck off. There was always a sensation that you were somehow caught between playful and sinister – the stage might be covered in flowers, the band dressed like children – but singer Tim Smith, with skinhead shorn close, in badly fitting suit, would be maniacal, shrieking into the mic and scowling or grinning darkly.

The gigs always included him savagely bullying bandmate Jim, exhorting the crowd to chant “Jim, Jim, Jim.” I used to feel unhappy for him as Jim’s head would bow sadly, like the fat kid in a playground, trying to hide. Thanks to a misreport in the Sunday Sport, for a long time it was rumoured that bandmate Sarah Smith was Tim’s sister, rather than his wife, and I’m sure he derived great pleasure from the shock it gave audiences to see him kissing her on stage. It was a fairly dark world.

The finale would often finish with confetti canons and balloons raining from the ceiling – a touch of Disney in a world of Dante

I’m probably not painting this in a very good light – writing it down makes it sound brutal, and it was. But it was also uplifting and thrilling, from start to finish. The finale would often finish with confetti canons and balloons raining from the ceiling – a touch of Disney in a world of Dante. And the music – for me – was pure genius. It’s not often one can call a thing absolutely unique but here it is folks. And if you can find anything close, I’ll bet it’s not as good. The only artist I can think of who sits in the same zone in terms of complex musical wizardry might be Zappa. But it doesn’t follow that if you like one, you’ll like the other. And Zappa was a bit of a wanker anyway. Tim seems largely to have generated a lot of love.

The band was formed in 1977 by Smith who enlisted – amongst others – embattled brother Jim on bass (although nobody ever knew if he could actually play it), and by 1984 they had what most fans consider to be their best line-up, which included Tim’s wife Sarah on vocals and sax, William D Drake as keyboardist extraordinaire, Tim Quy on percussion and bass synth, and Dominic Luckman on drums. Their first big gig came in 1984 when they opened for Marillion, but it wasn’t exactly a resounding success – it seems Marillion fans didn’t particularly ‘get it’. But nonetheless, in ’88 Cardiacs released what would be their most successful and enduring album, A Little Man and a House and the Whole World Window. What followed in the next 20 years was an extraordinary slew of music and performance with an impressive discography, and the spawning of several other projects.

Their history is lengthy and peppered with insanity. You can read the full backstory on Wiki here. The reason I’m writing about this – other than to enjoy an excuse to trawl through their extensive back catalogue very loudly and scare my own teenager, is because Tim Smith needs help.

It seems an odd phrase to write. But it turns out that this vital, magic puppet master, with his childlike noise and energy and berating; this scornful and humorous jester leading the merry dance is no less fallible than any of us, and in 2008 Tim Smith – ironically – suffered a massive cardiac arrest which has knocked the stuffing out of him somewhat.

Tim Smith – ironically – suffered a massive cardiac arrest which has knocked the stuffing out of him somewhat

The resultant complications and ongoing rehabilitation have been difficult – with many pondies (as fans are called) waiting breathlessly for him to get better and back up on the stage again. But the reality is that this is unlikely. He’s really not very well. In a release from the Alphabet Business Concern management team, we understand that he has “severe brain damage and a condition called dystonia. Mentally he’s as sharp as ever. His ability to move and speak, however, is minimal. Funding shortfalls and bureaucracy have seen his rehabilitation grind to a halt, along with his ability to make music.”

Speaking to The Quietus last year, Tim explained “Some days I can cope with it, if I’m mentally able to. I’ve not even told the kidz which I’m pretty ashamed of and all I can say is that I’m sorry. I had no idea how much I actually meant to all these incredible people and have been trying to know what they mean to me.

“The only way I can try and let you know how I feel at the moment is… imagine if you were wearing a skintight bodysuit made of fishnet all around you with electrical pulses going all the time. This is what my body feels like unless I fall asleep. This I have called my digital pain and bashing my head or something what hurts loads or any sort of normal pain, like toothache, I call analogue. Also, I can’t write or hold a pen or use a computer.”

Tim Smith 2017 by Sarah Mayer

We’ve lost an awful lot of musical stars over the last two or three years. Tim is still here, but fixing him is complex. He has repeatedly rejected pleas from those close to him to make public exactly what’s wrong, but it seems he’s finally capitulated and allowed his loved ones to ask for the help he actually needs. And the outpouring of love and support has been phenomenal. As has the press coverage and backing of fans and famous faces alike. It’s heart-warming.

I can’t remember how many times I saw Cardiacs, or possibly count the happy hours I’ve spent listening to their music. I’m saddened that it seems possible this might be it for Tim’s creativity but I definitely feel I owe him a thank you, and if there’s even a small chance of fixing at least part of what’s broken, we should have a go. At the very least if it improves his condition, let’s get on with it.

And so there is a crowdfunding campaign. Bless them – they started out asking for a very small amount but it became apparent very quickly that people were happy to donate and so they moved the total, and you can read much more about the treatment on the funding page. Modestly, the request is still only for enough money for a year’s treatment. But it’s a start, and they’re nearly there. If you want to donate, the link is here and also at the foot of this article.

Not much exists in the way of video footage of this band’s early days. It was the 80s after all, so a huge thanks to Stephen ‘Paynie‘ Payne for letting me share this extraordinary film.

“Many moons ago, I used to hang out with The Cardiacs. A stranger, more talented bunch I have yet to find. We shot this video in a room about 10ft x 10ft, 6 band members and me. It was hot and crowded, but some full of wonderfulness, I couldn’t sleep that night. It’s a great cover version of an old Kinks song. I edited it on 2 3/4″ decks over the next week. I still love it and would not change a frame.”

I’ve been playing Cardiacs pretty much during the whole writing of this article. Which could mean it’s disjointed, a bit distracted and possibly hard to read. If that’s the case, my work is done.

Tim Smith Crowdfunding campaign

Sam Harrington-Lowe

Sam is Silver’s founder and editor-in-chief. She’s largely responsible for organising all the things, but still finds time to do the odd bit of writing. Not enough though. Send help.

The post Cardiacs – Tim Smith’s starry skies appeared first on Silver Magazine.

KT is artistic director at Copperdollar Performance Company, which has been around since 2008. The organisation now includes a funky little boutique studio for dance and shoots in Brighton.

Developing a career from circus performer to someone who creates and produces her own shows, KT has a strong performance background. But recently she’s been using her physiological know-how and dance experience for a very different purpose.

WORKING TO SUPPORT POST-STROKE MOVEMENT

KT’s close friend Hanka had a stroke back in 2015. And KT has been using her knowledge of dance and movement to improve Hanka’s mobility and movement. I asked her how that looks, and how she’s incorporating dance into this therapy.

“I studied on a foundation dance course many years ago,” says KT, “but opportunities were limited when exploring your own styles back then.

“My work has always involved movement of one kind or another since I studied dance at 18 or 19. I had a passion for trying out as many different movement forms as possible, as I never wanted to be stylised.

“I have explored contemporary dance, and other traditional forms like ballet, jazz, tap, African dance, flamenco… and I love the physical challenge of capoeira, trapeze and acrobatics – as well as the aerial skills like silks and tightrope. Coupled with my knowledge of physical theatre and mime, as well as practices like aikido, yoga, tai chi etc, and more recently somatic movement, I have experience of a vast range of movement. I love to take the chemistry of these movement practices and play with their energy to inform how I move.”

Using her extraordinary movement background, KT found herself exploring new territories, and conceived the idea of dance as therapy whilst watching other physio practitioners exploring their skills.

BRINGING DANCE MOVEMENTS TOGETHER AS THERAPY

“Over time, I have learned as much as I can from physios, osteopaths and reading about the body, especially its power to heal. I like to think of it like this: we are made up of 79/80% water. If you have a pond of water that has no movement in it helping it to oxygenate, then it stagnates. That’s the same with us – if we don’t move, we also stagnate and stiffen up.”

She was struggling physically and emotionally with the way her life had suddenly changed

KT’s friend Hanka suffered a haemorrhagic stroke in 2015, which is a bleed on the brain. It was this trigger that made her explore how she could help.

“I wanted to help Hanka. She was struggling physically and emotionally with the way her life had suddenly changed. It was important that she kept moving, and not let this disability get the better of her.

Like this article? You might like this one about feel-good brain chemicals

“She was so determined to speak and walk again, both of which she has managed to do; she has been an inspiration to all of us.

“Hanka always loved to dance when we used to party together, so I offered to do some movement sessions with her. I don’t claim to be a movement therapist, but so many of the movement skills I have learned over time are very transferable. Working with the imagination is a proven value to a dancer, so we work with imagery too.

“Hanka has felt muscles that she has not felt since the stroke, and we can get her hand and leg to relax too. This has been very rewarding for both of us.”

Learning movement again after stroke is about building new neural pathways. The parts of the brain that have previously told you how to move have been damaged, and it’s about finding new ways to press ‘go’ on the motor fuctions. KT follows her instincts with the dance therapy, but kicks off sessions with a cup of tea and a chat to tune in and ensure relaxation.

COMBINING ALL THAT KNOWLEDGE

“I work with music as it helps to inspire and distract the mind from over-thinking. Often, we start by just walking around the ballet bar. I guide her into concentrating on using her good foot in a very conscious way.

“Sometimes I then crawl around and help to support the affected foot by helping it to roll correctly as she walks. We then work up through the body, looking at isolating different areas and exploring their natural movements and limits.

“I will support the limb that has lost sensation, and get Hanka to concentrate on her good side making it follow the limits of her other side, so we are working towards balancing the body. From there we develop and challenge the limitations with slow gentle encouraging movement.

We will also repeat certain things, to help the body redevelop its muscle memory

“One day not long ago, Hanka was thrilled by the fact that she suddenly could do a toe rise which previously had been very challenging but now was coming more easily.

“Every session is different, but we will also repeat certain things to help the body redevelop its muscle memory.”

DOES IT WORK?

Hanka spoke highly of KT, offering a positive review of her work.

“KT is an excellent and passionate dancer and teacher. She has been teaching me dance movement for the past year and a half and is very sensitive to my needs, whilst being incredibly patient. Our one-to-one sessions have really helped me to be more confident physically and mentally.”

KT plans to keep going with the therapy and is open to accepting more clients – looking for people who are open to trying new techniques and happy to work with her to develop her techniques further. If you’re interested in finding out more about KT’s work, there are contact details below.

But as for the work with her friend – she has a very simple goal in mind.
“I look forward to dancing with Hanka at a party where she can feel free of her disability,” she says. And we can totally relate.

Find KT at Copperdollar Studios
Photos: Moose Asim

Carly Pepperell

Carly gets to do everything under the sun, including writing, editing, taking photos, creating stories, and swanning around at launches. She can down a glass of Prosecco without pausing for breath, and aims to be the youngest Pulitzer winner ever.

The post Dance: the post-stroke therapy to improve mobility appeared first on Silver Magazine.