Soumya Tamouro
Rebuilding myself—One movement at a time
In March 2025, my life was turned upside down. Following a stroke in January that paralyzed my right side, I was hospitalized, then started rehabilitation at the Centre de réadaptation en déficience physique Lucie-Bruneau. For six months, I had the privilege of being guided and supported by an outstanding team of professionals.
But the early days of this transition were bumpy. When I was discharged from hospital, there were unexpected delays in administrative formalities related to adapted transport that threatened to delay my outpatient rehabilitation. Given this impasse, the devoted teams at the Centre Lucie-Bruneau were fabulously proactive. They stepped in to speed things up and organized virtual and home visits so that I could promptly start my rehabilitation.
The body’s intelligence and the power of art
Once actually at the Centre, I received a full range of therapies: occupational therapy, physiotherapy, kinesiology and psychotherapy. My team pulled out all the stops so that I could regain my autonomy.
Beyond conventional care, I also had access to complementary activities that served as catalysts for my healing: the pool, yoga and, above all, dance therapy—a precious program funded by the REA Foundation. In danced movement, I had a huge epiphany: my gestures became more fluid when carried by rhythm. My physiotherapist and kinesiologist integrated music directly into my rehabilitation. Meanwhile, the Centre’s librarian helped me explore the scientific literature on the neurobiological effects of music on neurological recovery, validating my intuition through the rigour of research.
My quest for meaning after the ordeal
During my post-stroke rehabilitation, I went through what I’d refer to as a “crisis of meaning.” It’s a common phenomenon among people who’ve had a close brush with death or whose physical integrity has been compromised. I had the impression that a chasm had opened up inside me, preventing me from seeing the horizon. I could no longer look to the future, or even plan my week. My brain and body were dissociated. I no longer knew if my body would have the energy to allow me to pursue my goals. This uncertainty was profoundly painful.
“Transform this ordeal into a mission.”
A lightbulb went off one day while I was walking in the hallway at the Centre with my red walker—or my “Ferrari” as I derisively called it. Looking at the photos and quotes from the REA Foundation on the walls, I understood that I could transform this ordeal into a mission. I realized that my expertise in science, governance and innovation could serve the Foundation. It was my way of “paying it forward.”
Today, I’m a member of the REA Foundation’s Board of Directors and a partner user. I now integrate my rehabilitation into my research projects. I’ve learned that meaning isn’t found around the corner, we build it brick by brick, with gratitude for the mortar, despite all of life’s uncertainties. Giving to the REA Foundation is a way of offering others a chance to rebuild their own meaning.
“Giving to the REA Foundation is a way of offering others a chance to rebuild their own meaning.”
Soumya Tamouro, stroke survivor
