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Achievements Post Stroke

Masters of Science in Occupational Safety and Health

Bachelors in science in Occupational Safety and Health

Associates in in Occupational Safety and Health

Associates in business

OSHA 30 Construction Industries

OSHA 30 General Industries

OSHA 10 Construction Industries

OSHA 10 General Industries

MSHA

My journey began on July 4th, 1998. I was 26 years old, a mother of two, and a Polynesian dancer living on Guam — until the day everything changed. I had a stroke.

I remember waking up in the hospital completely confused. I didn’t know why my right side wouldn’t move. I didn’t know why I couldn’t speak. I didn’t even know what a stroke was.

All I had were questions — and no way to form the words.

Weeks later, I was flown from Guam to Hawaii for open‑heart surgery. Doctors discovered a hole in my heart the size of a half‑dollar. I had lived my whole life, had two children, and never knew. On July 29th — my birthday — I had the surgery that saved my life.

Two weeks after that, my mom said, “Let’s go down to the pool.” I cried. I told her I couldn’t. She looked at me with that tough‑love fire and said, “So what if you’re handicap?”

I was angry. Hurt. Scared. But she walked me to the door, closed it behind me, and said, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

They lived twelve stories up. She took the elevator. I took the stairs.

It took me an hour. She was downstairs crying, whispering, “Come on Tammy, you can do it.”

When I finally reached the pool, she jumped in and told me to get in too. I was terrified — but I did it.

And in that water, surrounded by kids playing, something incredible happened: My arm moved. My leg moved. My hand opened. I could walk. Everything that felt lost… woke back up.

My mom has caught me every time I’ve fallen. My dad, who passed on August 9th, 2025, was my quiet strength. My mom is a firecracker — but to me, she’s just Mom. And she’s the reason I kept fighting.

Ever since that day, I’ve fought for my life, my purpose, and my voice.

Today, I share my journey through adaptive workout videos, encouragement, and honesty — because survivors need to see survivors. And soon, Hot N Handicap will grow into a full community with:

• A live video chat space for survivors to connect

• Suppliers offering assistive devices

• A hub of strength, hope, and real stories

This is my story. This is my purpose. This is Hot N Handicap.

Stroke grief — mourning the version of yourself that didn’t have to fight this hard.

Survivor frustration — knowing your mind and body don’t always match your will.

Healing identity — realizing you’re rebuilding a life, not just recovering one.

Resilience fatigue — being tired of being strong all the time.

It means you’re human.

You didn’t stay in the “why me.”

You didn’t stay in the helplessness.

You didn’t stay in the grief.

You kept moving — even when it was slow, even when it hurt, even when it felt unfair.

We are literally work in progress.

That’s the part of you that’s still fighting for your life, your purpose, your voice.

Losing the old self — the version of you before the stroke, the one who didn’t have to think about mobility, fatigue, or limitations.

Discovering the new self — the person who survived, adapted, and learned to navigate a changed body and mind.

Integrating both selves — not erasing the past, not denying the present, but weaving them together into something whole.