A Life Split Down the Middle
One November evening, Rick rose from a dinner table in coastal Maine and felt his world shear in two. “All of a sudden my left side was completely paralyzed—it went right down the median,” he told me. Within minutes his wife, Deb, had dialed 911; within two hours Rick was on an operating table at Mass General, surgeons snaking a catheter from groin to brain to yank out the clot. Luck and speed saved his speech and cognition, but the body of an avid skier, sailor, and entrepreneur lay numb, uncooperative.
From ICU to Christmas Lights
Rick spent a single icy week in neuro-ICU, then three more in rehab—“phenomenal caregivers,” he recalls—obsessively wiggling a big toe to earn discharge before Christmas. He did walk out, but celebration blurred with grief. The couple’s senior Labrador was euthanized that same week; the holiday table felt strangely lopsided. Rick kept repeating a private mantra: another two weeks and he would ski double-black diamonds again.
What Stroke Does to the Ones Who Stay
His wife, Deb now managed 20 acres of waterfront, barns, finances, and a husband who woke before dawn unable to pull on a sock. Friends stopped visiting; others confessed they had lived vicariously through his adrenaline. “The stroke doesn’t just happen to the survivor,” Rick notes. “It changes every relationship around you.” Caregivers reading this will nod; clinicians may add that social isolation predicts poorer long-term outcomes after stroke (Gallagher et al., 2022) PubMed.
The Quest for “New-and-Improved Ricky”
Rick’s recovery plan became a world tour of possibilities: acupuncture, ultra-aggressive stretching (which tore a hamstring), even a stem-cell trial at Stanford that drilled a into his skull, placing 5 million stem cells into the impacted area. Each experiment offered a flicker of relief or belief—until, in that case of the stem-cell experiment disappointment re-inflamed pain that spiked to an 8/10. What remained constant was his conviction that the relationships inside those modalities, not the modalities themselves, delivered the real medicine.
A forestry degree had taught Rick the quiet power of fungi—the mycelial networks that let trees whisper nutrients to one another. When he read neuroscientist Gül Dölen’s work suggesting psychedelics might reopen “critical periods” for brain plasticity WIRED, the dots connected: maybe psilocybin could coax his injured circuits to re-route. He set two guardrails: no harm to self or others, and experienced facilitators only.
Ceremony Over Fireworks
Rick’s first macro-dose—five grams of psilocybin under the guidance of a deeply-experienced facilitator named Yeshua—produced no swirling visions. “It was just like being stoned,” he laughs. Yet the outcome stunned him: pain dropped from an 8 to a tolerable 4, and stayed down for six months. Contemporary imaging studies hint at why; psilocybin increases dendritic spine formation and functional connectivity, changes that persist well beyond acute effects (Shao et al., 2021) PubMed.
A second, smaller journey months later repeated the analgesic dip but the benefit faded after days. Rick wonders whether interleaving micro-doses between ceremonies might blunt the “master-key” effect Dölen describes, a question still untested in humans. Researchers are beginning to look at psychedelics for refractory pain—including phantom-limb phenomena (Yanagisawa et al., 2022) —but stroke-related spasticity remains unexplored territory.
“Maybe psilocybin is the enabler that lets us re-work the brain a bit so we can fix anything.” — Rick Smith
Rick is quick to credit context: the set and setting of loving guides, gentle music, and an intention “wired with love.” His view aligns with emerging data that therapeutic outcome correlates with the quality of interpersonal support during psychedelic sessions (Murphy et al., 2023) Axios. In other words, psilocybin may catalyze plasticity, but community shapes how that plasticity rewires.
Love Is the Active Ingredient
The deeper Rick travels, the more his language pivots from neurology to cosmology. Energy is simply love, he proposes, “and fungi might be the quarterback that converts that energy into life.” Whether or not one shares his metaphysics, the clinical literature echoes the sentiment: social connectedness predicts better neurological recovery, fewer depressive symptoms, and even lower mortality after stroke (Louise et al., 2020) PubMed.
Giving Back on Three Wheels
Unable to grip a tiller or haul lobster traps, Rick found freedom in an electric recumbent trike on Acadia’s carriage roads. Laughing loudly—per his trainer’s orders—he co-founded MDI Wheelers, a nonprofit that straps wheelchair users into trike sidecars so they too can smell pine needles at 12 mph. Purpose, it turns out, is another potent neurotrophic factor.
Lessons for Survivors, Caregivers, and Clinicians
Accept (and Offer) Help Freely – “It makes people feel good when they can help you,” Rick says, reframing dependence as a gift exchange.
Curate Your Circle – Whether it’s an acupuncturist, trainer, or psychedelic facilitator, the who matters as much as the what.
Psychedelics Are Tools, Not Magic – Rick still wrestles with spasticity and fatigue. Yet psilocybin gave him a window—however brief—of lower pain and higher possibility.
Stay Curious – From forestry to fungi, Rick’s intellectual wanderlust led him to novel options. Science is sprinting to catch up; preclinical work already shows psychedelics can reopen social-learning critical periods and enhance synaptogenesis ResearchGate.
Let Purpose Pull You Forward – Building MDI Wheelers returned agency not only to Rick but to dozens of riders who thought wilderness was closed to them.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Clinical trials are now probing psilocybin for traumatic brain injury, depression after stroke, and chronic pain. None yet target motor recovery directly, but the mechanistic breadcrumbs—enhanced neuroplasticity, anti-inflammatory effects, modulation of pain networks—invite bold questions. Imagine pairing constraint-induced therapy with a psychedelic-reopened critical period, or using micro-doses to amplify the tedious repetitions of gait training.
“I’ve always felt the body cures itself—the medicine just makes you believe you can do it.” — Rick Smith
Share Your Stroke-Psychedelic Story
Rick offers his phone number to anyone who wants to dig deeper. You don’t have to found a nonprofit or swallow five grams of mushrooms to honor that spirit. If you, a loved one, or a patient has explored psychedelics in the wake of stroke—micro-dosing for focus, ketamine for mood, a single ceremony for meaning—Psychedelic Stroke Institute wants to hear from you. Your narrative could be the missing data point that guides future research, refines protocols, or simply comforts the next survivor at 2 a.m. who wonders, Has anyone else tried this?
Reach out, reflect, and keep the mycelial conversation growing. As Rick would say, the connections themselves are half the cure.
Disclaimer: This information is for educational purposes only. This account is not condoning or encouraging the use of illicit substances. It is recommended you follow all laws applicable to your jurisdiction. The information is based on medical and scientific evidence, which is limited but growing. The information may change as research evolves. It should not be construed as medical advice or medical clearance. Always follow the advice and direction of your healthcare provider(s). Do not attempt to stop or make changes to your medications or care plans on your own, as this can be dangerous. Be advised there can be many other factors that contribute to your overall risks of using psilocybin mushrooms or other psychedelics that should be considered in addition to interactions with your medications or health conditions. The creators of this account and its content are not responsible or liable for any damage you may suffer resulting from any outcomes related to its use.