‘My new hobby has become a stepping stone to stroke recovery’

If you were lucky enough to visit the shores of Lake Garda this summer, you may have noticed a middle-aged man impressively skimming stones across the vivid blue waters. Andy Reynolds’ torso twists to the side as his throwing arm whips forward, propelling each pebble through the air, parallel to the water.

What you would not have known is that the 48-year-old is recovering from a devastating stroke that left him struggling to control his right arm — and this new hobby has become part of his rehabilitation routine. Andy, of Wigan, says: “There’s a popular misconception that it only happens to older people, and it was certainly a misconception I had. I want to spread awareness that this isn’t just about giving somebody a comfortable chair to sit in — there’s a lot more to life for younger people who have had a stroke.”

The dad-of-one was working from home and preparing for a business meeting on Microsoft Teams when he began to feel “a bit unusual” in June 2023. He recalls: “I sat on my bed and my arm just went completely limp. Out of the blue, no warning signs, no headache, no blackout. My arm just dropped.”

Suspecting minor nerve damage from a recent knock on an assault course, Andy went ahead and joined the video call. But he soon realised the problem was serious. “I couldn’t actually control what my arm was doing. I’m right-handed. I couldn’t move the mouse or do anything with my keyboard, so I had to rearrange my desk.”

A woman on the call noticed his odd behaviour and asked if everything was OK. Andy says: “She seemed to know something I didn’t know. She asked if I was on my own, where in the house I was, and suggested I phone someone. My partner lived about 10 minutes away, and I knew she was working from home so I rang her.”

The woman stayed on the call until Andy’s partner arrived, then urged him to dial 111. Following guidance from the NHS’s non-emergency helpline, he completed simple tests such as holding his arm out and closing his eyes.

“When I opened my eyes, it had dropped away,” Andy says. “I had no sensation of it moving so they were pretty convinced that this was a stroke. That was the first time I heard the word ‘stroke’ mentioned by anybody.”

At his local hospital, doctors confirmed he had suffered a major stroke and transferred him to a specialist neurosurgery and stroke unit at Salford Royal Hospital. Further tests revealed Andy had a dural arteriovenous fistula (DAVF) — a tiny, thin walled abnormal blood vessel in the lining of his brain that was bleeding.

He explains: “They said the fistula is like a short circuit, and it will keep triggering strokes unless we operate. I thought I was going to have my skull opened up and started to panic but then they said, ‘We can go through your groin.’”

Andy had planned to spend that evening enjoying an early 45th birthday dinner and watching a show in London. Instead — after a quick video call with his parents, sister and partner — he underwent a five-hour operation. He adds: “It was very traumatic, very confusing.”

He spent eight days recovering in hospital and his daughter Ellen, who was 10 at the time, was unable to visit for his birthday or Father’s Day due to ward rules. When Andy eventually returned home, his partner Jill and her daughter Anna moved in to support him and a long recovery began.

He was advised to regularly stimulate his arm to get the neural pathways referring. With Jill’s help, Andy put together a “bag of tricks” containing items such as a ball he could catch to work on his reflexes, clothes pegs he could pinch, and resistance bands he could stretch. Sometimes Ellen, now 13, would sit by her dad’s side, running a hairbrush up and down his arm.

He says: “She was initially quite frightened and didn’t know what to say or do. But she was a big help and it brought us close together. Myself and my ex-wife had gone through this separation, so it was a tricky time for Ellen in the run-up to me having a stroke. Then that seemed to bring us closer together. I think she could see that I was a human, that I was vulnerable, just like anybody else.”

As he began to rebuild his life, Andy started an Instagram account themed around recovering the strength and coordination in his throwing arm (@mythrowingarmstopped). He smiles: “I used to play cricket. I was really good at throwing. It’s like the only thing I’ve ever been exceptional at, I think, in my life.”

He came across an account for a society of students at Liverpool University who enjoyed stone skimming, and decided to give it a go. His father — a proud Liverpudlian — had died 10 months into his recovery, so this also gave him the opportunity to connect with treasured memories.

Andy says: “I went for a wander around the park and met these guys, and realised that this is actually quite a competitive thing. People are traveling all over the world taking part in these events.

“I thought this was a great way for me to try and prove to myself what I can still do. It turns out I’m pretty good at it, even with the physical limitations I’m left with.

“I still don’t have full control of my arm. I have issues with coordination, sensation, and I struggle with the control aspect. I have to be looking at my hand and my arm to know where it is.”

Andy has honed his skills at his local canal. On a good day, can make a pebble hop around 70m across the water — enough to potentially make him a world champion contender.

So how exactly do you skim a stone? “You throw it almost sideways, and you’ve got to get down as low as you can so that the stone is traveling horizontally along the surface of the water before it makes contact,” he explains. “As long as it skims three times, it’s considered a good throw.

“The aim is to get it as far as you can but it’s got to stay within a particular boundary, and it’s the spin that keeps it from sinking. I remember my dad teaching me when I was younger. That’s really the emotional motivation for me. I know that he’d be up there with me, cheering me on.”

Andy’s recovery also includes gym sessions to build upper body strength. He is preparing to compete next month at the World Stone Skimming Championships on Easdale Island, a tiny island on the Inner Hebrides in Scotland.

A lot may depend on the conditions and how consistent his performance is (success is measured by cumulative distance from three throws). “I’ll be nervous, the water might not be as calm,” he says.

“Consistently is probably going to be the biggest challenge because I haven’t got the same level of control over my body as everyone else. But I actually don’t want to compete against people in the same position as me. I want to show that disabled people can compete against able-bodied people in this.”

Although stone skimming has become a fun occasional pastime and marker of his recovery, Andy admits the stroke dealt a “huge psychological blow”. “I was very active and capable before, constantly doing things or helping people. Then I became a person who needed to depend on others, overnight. That’s an enormous adjustment.”

He estimates he has around 50% of the control and less than 50% of the sensation he had in his right arm before the stroke. If he leans on a chair, he still cannot feel it — it’s as though his arm is suspended mid-air.

Andy’s social media account has become a much-needed place to both track his progress and connect with other survivors. He adds: “Being able to speak to other people that have been there and are already on that journey, it really helps.”

The woman who spotted his stroke received a huge ‘thank you’ and a bunch of flowers. It turned out her father had recently suffered one, so she remembered the signs.

Almost three years later, Andy took part in the London Landmarks Half Marathon for Different Strokes, a charity supporting stroke survivors of working age. He is passionate about raising awareness that younger people can suffer strokes, that their symptoms may not always be obvious, and that they must be supported to reach their full potential afterwards.

He adds: “There’s no one single way of either suffering or recovering from a stroke. I’d like people to know what it’s like to have a stroke at my age and the stigma I’ve faced. I’ve had people think I was drunk because in the early days my walking was quite uncoordinated.

“Strokes are far more common in young people than you think. And the recovery journey is completely different for somebody who’s a parent, has a full-time job, or has other dependents, like older parents they are caring for.”