By
American Heart Association News Published:
May 1, 2019
There
he was, Michael Johnson, once the fastest person ever to run 200 meters, the
man who'd been so confident of setting the world record that he stepped onto
the Centennial Olympic Stadium track wearing spikes painted gold.
Only
now he was wearing a powder-blue patient's gown and leaning into a walker. He'd
just finished a lap around the fourth floor of UCLA Medical Center. It was the
start of his recovery from a stroke. When he reached the finish line of his
bed, his internal tape measure read 200 meters.
On that
memorable night in Atlanta in 1996, he covered the distance in 19.32 seconds.
This afternoon in 2018 in Santa Monica, he needed about 10 minutes.
Devastating,
right?
Not to
Johnson.
At this
moment, he knows things can only get better. Although he doesn't know how much,
he knows the only way to find out is by pushing his body to its limit. It's a
familiar challenge.
"I'll
make a full recovery," he tells his wife, "and I'll do it faster than
anyone."
Eight
months later, only Johnson can detect the differences in his stride pre-stroke
and post-stroke. Sure, his recovery was boosted by having the body and mindset
of an elite athlete. But doctors also credit the fact he sought help as soon as
the symptoms hit.
So this
May – American Stroke Month – Johnson is helping the American Stroke
Association spread the word about recognizing the warning signs of stroke. He's
the perfect pitchman for the acronym long used in stroke awareness because it's
a word he knows as well as anyone: F.A.S.T.
It
stands for face drooping, arm weakness, speech difficulty, time to call 911.
***
Johnson's saga began Aug. 31, a few weeks before his 51st
birthday. Life was good.
He's
president of Michael Johnson Performance, a facility in a Dallas suburb where
everyone from kids to world-class athletes go for training, nutrition,
rehabilitation and more. It's a popular destination for college football
players before the NFL draft. He's also a motivational speaker and a track
analyst for the BBC.
Days
before, he helped his son settle into New York for his freshman year of
college. With his son's departure turning Johnson and his wife into
empty-nesters, they recently moved from San Francisco to Malibu, California.
Their new home features a gym befitting an Olympic legend – in its own
structure separate from the main house.
That
afternoon, Johnson put in 45 minutes of high-intensity strength and cardio
exercises. The strain and sweat felt good.
He saw
his wife outside with Angelo, their light brown Italian water dog. Johnson
walked over to chat, then turned to walk back into the gym.
He
stumbled. His left ankle didn't flex.
He
hobbled to a weight bench, sat and pondered the workout. What went wrong that
might have caused this?
Before
he could pinpoint anything, his left arm tingled. Then it twitched.
Johnson
struggled into the house and described the sensations to his wife. He reclined
on the sofa and called the director of performance at his training facility.
Everyone agreed he should see a doctor.
***
His
wife drove them to a nearby urgent care center. Doctors there quickly sent him
to UCLA Medical Center.
A brain
scan came out clear, which wasn't the good news it might seem. The hunt for a
cause continued.
Meanwhile,
his coordination was getting worse. Fatigue set in. He fell asleep inside the
MRI tube. When it was time to get up, he couldn't.
Helped
to his feet, his left foot felt numb. He had hardly any strength or motor
skills on his left side. He was taken to a private room.
About
three hours since this all began, a team of doctors walked in.
***
Stroke
is the No. 2 killer worldwide. In the United States, it's No. 5, but a leading
cause of adult disability.
While
the disease often afflicts people who are older or frail, it also attacks those
who are younger – even those who are extremely healthy. African American men
are especially at risk.
Most
strokes are ischemic, meaning caused by a blood clot in a brain artery. Some
are hemorrhagic, involving bleeding in the brain.
Johnson's
stroke was ischemic. The MRI showed that a clot had come and gone. But, like a
tornado, it left a swath of destruction among the blood vessels on the right
side of his brain.
Can
they recover? Some? All?
And, if
so, how long will it take?
"It's
different with each case," the doctor told him. "Fortunately, you got
here quickly and you're in very good shape. That works well for your chances.
But no one knows."
It's 9
p.m. on a Friday. Doctors wanted his body to heal for the next 48 hours.
Rehab
wouldn't begin until Monday.
***
The
stroke only affected Johnson's movement. His thinking remained sharp.
On
Saturday and Sunday, his mind darted from curiosity about what's next to fears
that he'd never walk again. As his wife and nurses helped him get in and out of
bed, and to and from the bathroom, he wondered, "Is this my future?"
He
again reviewed the workout, seeking a cause. Finding none, anger boiled:
"I was doing all the right things – keeping my weight down, working out
every day, eating healthy – and I still end up having a stroke."
He
cycled through these emotions until settling on the one thing he might be able
to control. Rehab.
The
thought calmed him. He thought back to when he was 18 and heading to college
without having even won a state championship. His goal then was to get the most
out of his ability, whatever that might be.
Johnson
blossomed into the rare sprinter to win gold at three consecutive Olympics. He
became the fastest ever at 200 and 400 meters, setting both records at the 1996
Olympics. No man had ever swept those events. Defending his 400-meter gold
became another first. His dominance earned the nickname Superman. When experts
rank greatest Olympians, he's part of the conversation.
Now he
again wanted to get the most out of his ability, whatever that might be. Like a
kid on Christmas Eve, he counted the hours until the start of rehab.
"I've
done a bunch of incredible things in life," he thought. "This is
going to be another."
***
The
physical therapist was a good match: a runner with high expectations for his
patients. Especially this one.
He
insisted Johnson use the walker for the first loop, a baseline test.
The
therapist told Johnson to place his left foot this way, shift his weight that
way. He did. His left foot still dragged, though not as much. He felt the
slightest bit of heel-to-toe action.
The
incremental improvement changed everything.
What
others might've considered miniscule loomed large to Johnson. Remember, this is
a guy who once "shattered" a world record by 34-hundredths of a
second.
He also
began to see his therapist as his coach for the most important race of all.
So when
Johnson got back to his room and declared that he would make a full, fast
recovery, he wasn't merely spouting positivity.
"It's
going to come down to hard work and focus," he told his wife. "I know
how to do that."
On his
way out, the therapist folded up the walker and said, "We're not going to
need this anymore."
***
The
next day, Johnson walked to the elevator and rode down to the physical therapy
clinic. The day after that, he took the stairs.
At
home, he did therapy twice a day, mostly in front of a mirror.
While
he made great strides, progress wasn't constant. Like all stroke patients, he
hit plateaus.
Around
Johnson's 51st birthday, the mirror in his gym showed a guy who recently looked
and felt 30 but now felt 90.
"I'm
not Superman anymore," he thought. "But every day, I'm getting
better."
At six
weeks, his wife no longer detected a limp. Around four months, Johnson
considered his gait smooth.
"My
left side dynamic stability is still not equal to my right side," he said
in February, six months after the stroke. "I'm still on this journey to
get back to 100% of where I was before."
***
Johnson
continues to eat healthy and exercise regularly, and he's trying to manage
stress better.
He
still has some numbness on the side of his left hand, in his left pinkie finger
and on the bottom of his left foot in a space mid-foot between the big toe and
the second toe. Feeling may return, but he's accepted that it might not.
He's
also accepted not knowing what caused his stroke.
Despite
extensive testing, doctors never found a source. This happens in about one of
every three strokes, a classification called cryptogenic. The term simply means
no one knows the cause.
"It
shouldn't have happened the first time," Johnson said. "Hopefully it
won't happen again."
He also
hopes sharing his story will help others.
Johnson
tweeted about his stroke soon after it happened. He continues talking about it
because he realizes he can make a difference, especially because he has legions
of fans around the world.
"Being
a stroke survivor is now part of who I am," he said. "I want people
to understand it can happen to anyone and that there are ways to minimize their
risk."
If you
have questions or comments about this story, please email editor@heart.org.
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https://www.heart.org/en/news/2019/05/01/a-stroke-slowed-olympic-legend-michael-johnson-responding-fast-sped-his-recovery
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