A colleague found her on the floor. She'd had a rare, often fatal stroke.
By Diane Daniel, ÌÇÐÄVlog News

Sitting at her desk in the office of the Vassar College film department in Poughkeepsie, New York, Jodi Hammell pulled out the southwestern salad she'd bought for lunch. Most days, she drove home during her break to walk her dog, but her car had broken down the day before and she had no transportation.
Out of nowhere, she felt extremely lethargic. Then she couldn't move the left side of her body.
She began breathing heavily. And – bang! – she fell to the ground.
From the other side of a partition wall, a colleague came to see what was happening. She found Hammell on the floor having a seizure. Unable to speak, her eyes were filled with fear. Her colleague called 911.
Paramedics arrived within a few minutes. Hammell had several more seizures. In between those episodes, the first responders noticed Hammell wasn't moving her left side. Although seizing is not a typical stroke symptom, they alerted the hospital that she may be having a stroke.
At the hospital, a brain scan confirmed she was indeed having a stroke – a rare type.
Hammell, then 54, was diagnosed with a basilar artery occlusion, which blocks blood and oxygen to the back part of the brain. That includes the areas that control breathing, balance, language and visual processing. It is often fatal.
Doctors performed a procedure called a mechanical thrombectomy to remove the clot. With her blood flow restored, Hammell was placed in a medically induced coma to help her brain and body heal.
When Hammell woke up, she declared she needed to get back to work. She was an office administrator and had a deadline to meet.
"When is the deadline?" asked her daughter, Sophie McNutt.
"This Friday," Hammell answered.
"It's already Saturday," McNutt said. "You've been in the hospital since Tuesday. You can't go back to work until you recover."
Hammell soon realized she was in no shape to work.
Although she had regained movement on her left side, it was weak. She had double vision, poor memory and was unsteady on her feet. She also couldn't organize her thoughts well or find the right words to say.
"I was frustrated, but I also know I was lucky because the doctors kept telling me what a miracle I was," Hammell said. "They said they were amazed that I was sitting up and talking and moving my limbs."
Doctors did not know what caused her stroke. A likely trigger, they said, was her years of heavy cigarette smoking and drinking alcohol. At this point, she'd been sober for about a year and had become a regular at recovery support group meetings.
Hammell stayed in the hospital for two weeks and was transferred to an inpatient rehabilitation facility for another two weeks to work on walking, performing household tasks and improving her cognition.
Once she returned home, she used a walker or a cane, couldn't do household chores and couldn't walk her cocker spaniel, Giovanni.
McNutt had just graduated from college and was working in Boston. She found a new job near her mother and moved back in to help her out. One of Hammell's sisters, Denise Kawaksheh, drove her to most of her medical appointments.

Hammell faced another challenge: continuing with her regular Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. She wasn't ready to socialize in her weakened state. She'd often baked cupcakes and cookies to take to meetings; now she couldn't bake.
"I attended Zoom meetings," she said, "and really stayed determined."
Hammell also needed to tackle another addiction: cigarette smoking.
The grip was so strong that she continued smoking after the stroke, even though she said, "I knew it was crazy."
Then, during a follow-up appointment with a neurologist, he said: "You will have another stroke if you don't stop."
It was the motivation she needed. In January 2024, three months after the stroke, Hammell had her last cigarette. Working with a cessation counselor through her employer has helped make the change last.
These days, Hammell is back to walking Giovanni and doing chores. She continues to work on her balance and fine motor skills, going to as much outpatient therapy as her insurance allows.
She notices a lot of little things, like how much longer it now takes her to get a debit card out of her wallet when she's paying at a store. Those things happen often enough that she doesn't feel ready to drive, even though doctors said she could.
"I feel 20 years older than I did the day before the stroke," she said. "But I am taking much better care of myself than I ever have."
Last October, Hammell took early retirement from her job. She's considering going back to school for something like addiction counseling or social work.
McNutt has remained in Poughkeepsie, continuing to help her mom. She's ready to move on to the next chapter of her life, too, as she'll be starting graduate school in Washington, D.C., later this year.
"I admire the work she's done," McNutt said, "and I know she's capable of so much more. I know she'll get there."
Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.