AARP Hearing Center
Randy Kernus was not expected to live. Nine years ago the then 51-year-old was headed to work near his home in Northern Virginia when a tangle of abnormal blood vessels on his brain started to bleed.
He doesn’t remember anything from that day — neither the rush from one hospital to the next nor the diagnosis that followed: a massive hemorrhagic stroke that required a major operation to remove the cluster of vessels that caused the bleeding.
Kernus survived the trauma, beating the experts’ initial predictions. But the stroke left him partially paralyzed and nearly speechless from Broca’s aphasia, a common stroke-associated injury that affects one’s ability to produce words, even though language comprehension typically remains intact.
After several weeks of routine rehabilitation therapies, the paralysis went away. Kernus’ speech, however, was slow to return. More than a year after the stroke, he still wasn’t speaking in complete sentences, and that terrified his wife, Laura Obradovic.
“His neurologist had told us, ‘Wherever he’s at 18 to 24 months after the stroke, that’s probably the best he’s going to be,’ ” Obradovic recalls.
Refusing to accept her husband’s stalled progress and stunted sentences as their new normal, Obradovic enrolled in a nearby support group for stroke survivors and their caregivers, hoping to learn about other interventions from those who were going through the same thing.
That’s where they met Tom Sweitzer.
Survivors who sing
Standing over a keyboard at the front of a beige conference room on a satellite college campus in Loudon, Virginia, Sweitzer, a music therapist, addressed the dozen or so adults seated in front of him. Some were joined by caregivers; others came solo. Everyone held sheet music.
“Let’s start by telling us one of your favorite Thanksgiving traditions,” Sweitzer said.
The group, a choir of stroke survivors that goes by the name Different Strokes for Different Folks, had just finished a more traditional vocal warm-up. But this next exercise wasn’t for the voice; it was for the brain.
The singers went around the room and traded stories of food and family. When it was Kernus’ turn, he told the group, “Pumpkin pie is one of my favorites. But on top of that, obviously, it’s football for me.”
Nothing about his sentence was incomplete.
“It’s just really, really impressive,” Obradovic says about her husband’s progress since joining the stroke choir five years ago, despite having no previous experience or even an interest in singing. “Randy has come leaps and bounds from where he was” when doctors predicted he would likely not see further improvements in his speech.
The breakthroughs Kernus has experienced since joining the stroke choir are not unique. Music therapist Skylar Freeman, who works with Sweitzer and the stroke choir, sees progress like his all the time. When she joined the group, three years ago, Freeman says, it was “really difficult” to understand what many of the members were trying to communicate. Sentences were short and often incomplete, and pauses between words stretched several seconds.
“And now it’s like full sentences — very quick, super responsive,” she says. “Some people say that it’s like magic. I don’t think it’s like magic; it’s like music. That’s just really what it is.”
Drop the melody, but keep the words
Researchers and therapists have long known that people who can’t speak after a brain injury, including stroke, usually can sing. For the majority of the population, words and music are produced in similar ways but on opposite sides of the brain — speech on the left and song on the right — explains Kathleen Howland, a music therapist, speech therapist and professor of music therapy at Berklee College of Music in Boston.
“And what is so fascinating about music and the brain is when speech goes down, music typically does not,” Howland says.
But speech and music also share a network. And studies have found that singing can help rebuild speech pathways. This is one reason why Sweitzer and a team of therapists from his Middleburg, Virginia, nonprofit, A Place to Be, work with stroke survivors on singing everyday phrases, including what they want to eat and how they feel in a particular moment. The goal: One day they’ll drop the melody but keep the words.
Brandon Hassan, a music therapist who works with the choir, demonstrates this by tapping his leg and slowly singing, “I’m feeling sad.” All too often, he says, people with aphasia resort to words or phrases that come easily, and “I’m good” is one of the phrases he hears regularly.
More From AARP
Aerobic Exercise Is the Newest Twist in Stroke Rehab
Study shows faster recovery if you get your heart pumpingShingles Vaccine May Prevent Stroke in Some Older Adults
CDC research says risk is lower for those ages 66 to 79