Eighteen days after retirement, life handed me a challenge I never expected. I thought retirement would mean more mornings on the lake, more time to fish, to travel, to finally slow down on my own terms. Instead, I found myself learning to walk again.
When you work your whole life, you dream about what comes next, the freedom, the peace, the chance to live fully. I had plans lined up, new trips, more time outdoors, maybe even a few extra days just to rest. But a stroke does not care about your timing. One moment I was ready to enjoy the next chapter of life, the next I was fighting to take a single step.
Those first days were a blur of hospital rooms, tests, intensive care, and therapy sessions. A seizure and stroke sent me into a coma for three days in the ICU, followed by another two days in intensive care and then rehab for an undetermined amount of time. On October 18 I had that seizure and stroke. My body resisted the very motions that used to feel automatic. My mind was sharp, my will was strong, but my right side felt like it belonged to someone else.
Still, I kept showing up. Every day in therapy I focus on the fundamentals, standing, shifting balance, taking one step after another. It is slow, humbling work. But I have learned that recovery is not about speed. It is about consistency. It is about showing up when it hurts and trusting that progress is happening even when you cannot see it yet.
Eighteen days into retirement, I thought I would be adjusting to a quieter pace. Instead, I am learning a new kind of patience, the kind that comes from rebuilding, one muscle and one moment at a time.
I think about fishing often during this process. There is a rhythm to both recovery and the water, patience, persistence, belief. You cast again and again because you know eventually something good will come. That mindset keeps me going. Each small victory, a steadier step or a longer walk, feels like landing a fish after a long quiet wait.
Adaptive Fishing Technology: A Sign of What Is Ahead
One of the things giving me hope is knowing there are innovations built for exactly this kind of challenge. I discovered the RexFly Casting System and adaptive fishing rods designed for one handed anglers through the RexFly brand. Their website says they create fishing innovations to improve your fishing experience, from the RexFly Casting System to adaptive fishing rods for anglers who have the use of one arm.
(Website: rexfly.com)
What stands out to me is simple.
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The RexFly system is specifically designed for anglers who may have lost function in one arm or hand, or who need a more accessible way to fish.
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It has been featured in assistive technology lending programs, showing that it is practical for people who are adapting to physical changes.
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It gives me a clear goal. When I am ready, I can look into adaptive gear and start fishing again in a way that fits my new reality and my unshakable love for the sport.
Knowing that companies like RexFly exist gives me real motivation. It means that the time I spend on recovery now is not just therapy. It is preparation for the day I will return to the water. Maybe I will fish differently, but I will still fish with the same heart and the same passion.
When I Return to the Water
When I finally make it back to the lake, it will mean more than ever before. Every step to the shoreline, every load of the kayak, every turn of the pedal will carry the weight of everything I have fought to regain. Walking again is not just about mobility. It is about freedom, independence, and the will to live the life that still lies ahead of me.
Retirement did not begin the way I planned, but maybe this is its own kind of beginning, one that reminds me how fragile and powerful life can be at the same time.
I am eighteen days into this new chapter, still learning, still healing, still walking, one step at a time. And when I fish again, I will do so with gratitude, knowing exactly how much each step was worth.
