I was 65, recently retired, and in excellent health—even quasi-athletic—when I had a major health crisis in 2014. I had spent the afternoon hiking up a nearby mountain. After a satisfying dinner, I watched some TV and went to bed. In the middle of the night, my wife heard a bang and found me on the floor. She wanted to call an ambulance, but I mumbled something about going to the hospital where I'd worked as an administrator until four months earlier. Even though it was 30 miles from our house, I thought it would be quicker than calling an ambulance.

When we arrived at the emergency department, I had a CT scan, which revealed a bleed in my brain—a hemorrhagic stroke. I had no history of high blood pressure and wasn't taking any blood thinners. The surgeon, who was the president of the hospital and one of my former bosses, scheduled me for surgery immediately.

Seven hours later the operation was over, and I was moved to the neuro intensive care unit—the same unit where I had made rounds with the head nurse when I worked at the hospital. It was strange being a patient there.

I had a feeding tube installed in my stomach and a tracheostomy below my jaw. While my brain was healing from the operation, I was put in a medically induced coma. The normal length of stay in that unit was three days; I was there for three weeks.

In the aftermath of my stroke, it became clear that my balance, speech, and coordination were affected. Initially I couldn't stand unaided for more than 15 seconds. With the help of a physical therapist, I gradually improved and could stand balanced for a minute or longer. Each time I reached a milestone, the PT set a new one. Progress was slow, but after months of work I could maintain my balance with my eyes closed while moving my head from side to side.

Now I do balance and strength exercises at home. I stand in front of a stable structure like the kitchen sink and shift my weight from side to side while not holding on to anything. I hold my arms out to my sides and circle them clockwise and counterclockwise. I do uppercuts while punching and clasp my fists together while moving my arms from side to side. I also turn my head to the right and left and then up and down. I hold a resistance band and pull each arm away from my body, following my moving hand with my eyes. I use another band for chest presses and triceps kickbacks. I'm up to three sets of 40 repetitions for each.

Some problems remain. My weakened facial muscles make it hard for me to talk and for other people to understand me. To make my speech more intelligible, I speak more slowly and enunciate syllables. I occasionally repeat or spell out difficult words and phrases and try not to get flustered. I still have problems with fine motor control and coordination on my right side. I cannot write legibly with a pen and have trouble buttoning my shirt. I can no longer fly-fish or hike, but I like tending my raised beds in the garden.

The effects of the stroke may not disappear, but I receive encouragement from friends and family and manage to stay positive. Writing has become a surprising source of strength and solace. Seeing these words reminds me that with perseverance I will continue to improve.

Phil Pomeroy, a former administrator at the Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix, has two grown daughters and three grandsons. He lives in Chandler, AZ, where he gardens and does woodworking.