In 2000, Jann McCall was forty years old, teaching, raising three daughters, and living what felt like a normal life. Then one morning a rare spinal stroke blocked the fluid in her spinal cord. Everything below her armpits stopped working. She couldn't walk. The swelling was so severe doctors couldn't even see the full damage at first, so they waited, gave her massive doses of steroids, and told her they would have to see what came back. Her youngest daughter was six. The oldest was twelve. Her asthmatic daughter was in hospital in a different building at the same time.
Jann spent a year learning to walk again through rehabilitation. She made a choice early on not to lie in bed despairing, but to do what the doctors asked and stay positive through the work ahead. She went to the Sydney Olympics in a wheelchair that September, not knowing if she would ever walk independently again. The church brought meals. Friends drove her to rehab. Her husband held the home together. She prayed. She slept through the nights without fear. By the end of that year, she could walk. She returned to casual teaching for a few years, then left when the physical demands became too much.
But Jann refused to let the stroke define what she could do. She and her husband took their first overseas trip in 2004, despite people telling her it was too risky. They have traveled ever since. In 2014, breast cancer came, and her legs deteriorated further. Now she uses crutches, a walker, and a mobility scooter that she credits with giving her back her independence and joy. She sends Christmas cards to people she has known for decades, keeps friendships alive across distances, and spends time with her granddaughter. She looks forward to the next trip, whatever it brings, knowing that life holds both good and hard, and that how she responds to it matters more than what happens.