On Friday, each will mark the anniversary in their own way.
Ryley Williams will leave his rehabilitation center in Anna, Texas, to commemorate three years since his life-altering July 8th. He and a few close friends are heading to Dallas for dinner and a movie, a clear indication of how much he's recovered.
At Amber Hebert's home in Bellevue, Nebraska, her family would prefer it to pass like any other day. But this being only the second July 8th since their world shattered, they'll pause to acknowledge the calendar and salute their perseverance.
In the community of Dartmouth in the Canadian province Nova Scotia, Nik Latter's family is throwing what his mom promises will be "a big ol' party." Fist bumps and hugs will celebrate the fact he's made it an entire year since his devastating July 8th.
One by one, over each of the last three July 8s, Ryley, Amber and Nik suffered a stroke. Yet the oddity of their shared date is only part of what led their moms to create a de facto support group.
What really brought them together is that Ryley, Amber and Nik were -- and still are -- teenagers.
Ryley was 15 and devoted to becoming the starting nose guard on his varsity football team. Amber was 13 and loved playing softball and hanging out with the two girls who'd been her best friends since kindergarten. Nik was a few days shy of 18 and had left school to work at a restaurant; he'd bought a car and aimed to become a voluntary firefighter following that upcoming birthday.
Now, well, their dreams are different.
As we approach July 8, the families allowed me to share their stories to send an important message: Stroke can attack anyone at any time.
***
Ryley Williams went into the summer following his freshman year at Bentonville (Arkansas) High with one goal. He wanted to draw the attention of the varsity football coaches.
So he ran and lifted weights. He ate six meals a day, devouring only foods that would expand his 6-foot, 242-pound frame the right way.
"Honey, you're never late, you make good grades, you don't cause any problems -- trust me, the coaches notice you," his mom, Terri Rose, told him. "They just won't tell you they notice you."
The morning of Monday, July 8, 2013, Ryley went to an indoor field for football practice. He was stretching when he grabbed his leg and collapsed. Everyone thought he'd pulled a muscle and overreacted. Then they realized there was more to it.
At the hospital, a brain scan showed a bigger problem than the facility could handle. He was flown by helicopter to Arkansas Children's Hospital in Little Rock. It wasn't easy fitting someone his size into the chopper.
When they landed, seizures began. Off he went for an MRI. Looking at the results, the doctor pointed to five spots.
"This is a stroke, this is a stroke, this is a stroke, this is a stroke and this is a stroke," the doctor said. "We need to find out why he has so many blood clots in his brain."
Around 3 a.m. Wednesday, they still didn't know why. And now they had a new problem. Ryley's brain was swelling.
He underwent an operation to remove part of his skull. With Ryley sedated, doctors also took a closer look at his heart. They found hair-like strands of a bacterial infection on the outside of two valves. A-ha! This was the source.
Next question: How much brain damage had he suffered? His right side didn't function. Doctors cautioned he may never walk or talk.
As Ryley was coming out of his medically induced coma, some football players visited. Coaches, too. They brought a varsity jersey with his number, 99.
"The head coach drove down to Little Rock and stayed with us when Ryley had the skull surgery," Terri said. "Other coaches came to visit, too. They told us they were watching him. They knew he was going to have a big year. Hearing that was bittersweet."
Fast forward to today.
His right arm remains compromised. He also battles aphasia, a condition that sometimes makes it hard for him to get words out. Still, Ryley recently graduated high school, right on time. He even spent the last year working at a Walmart Neighborhood Market. And he's become an advocate for the American Stroke Association. Last year, he and Terri encouraged a Congressional subcommittee in Washington, D.C., to support more funding for research and awareness about pediatric stroke.
He's spending this summer at a facility that specializes in neuropsychology recovery for victims of strokes and traumatic brain injuries. He's learning skills to live on his own, although he plans to spend two years at home while attending Northwest Arkansas Community College.
"He's incredibly positive," Terri said. "He's accepted everything. He tells you, `This is who I am now.'"
***
The night of July 8, 2014, Amber Hebert was on first base when the next batter hit the ball to the outfield.
Amber ran to second base without anyone trying to get her out, then fell as if she'd been punched. She vomited and went into a seizure. Her 5-foot-3, 86-pound body thrashed so violently that four firefighters held her down while a fifth injected her with medicine.
The local hospital in Bellevue, Nebraska, ended up sending her to Children's Hospital & Medical Center in Omaha. The seizures continued until 3 a.m.
"When she finally stopped seizing, she was able to see and talk and understand you," said her mom, Tirzah Hebert. "But I could see the fear in her eyes."
Tests -- and seizures -- continued throughout the next day. Finally, doctors declared she'd suffered a stroke.
The next day, Amber sat in a chair holding a cup and walked around her hospital floor. The following day, she had a bit more difficulty holding a cup but could still walk. That night, Tirzah asked if she understood what had happened.
"I don't know," Amber said.
The next day, a Saturday, Amber couldn't walk, talk or hold up her head. This continued until Tuesday, when she finally underwent an MRI. It showed that her brain was swelling.
Doctors were able to reduce it with medicine. Then came the waiting game to determine the extent of brain damage. Soon, she began smiling and communicating with her left hand -- fist for yes, open palm for no.
These days, Amber walks, but sometimes the toes on her right foot curl, causing her to drag her foot.
She can't move her right hand or wrist. She also has aphasia. Therapists believe that with practice she'll improve in every area. (Doctors never determined the cause of her stroke.)
Alas, there have been other obstacles.
Shortly after Amber made it home, her dad's dad -- with whom she was very close -- died of cancer. Four months later, a lump in her dad's neck was found to be cancerous. Early detection plus chemotherapy and radiation helped him beat it.
School proved no refuge. She went from being one of the most popular girls at school to getting bullied. Her two lifelong best friends "just disappeared," Tirzah said. Amber switched to homeschooling until giving the classroom another try this summer.
"She's a happy girl, for the most part, very loving and caring," Tirzah said. "She still has some depression, but who wouldn't? To have your life completely turned upside down like hers has?"
***
Even as a child, Nik Latter struggled with migraines. So, last June, when he had one that was bad enough to go to a hospital, nobody thought much of it.
Nor did anyone think twice when he left work complaining of a migraine on Sunday, July 5, 2015.
The next day, he endured what he described as the worst migraine he'd ever experienced. He wore sunglasses indoors and had his mom, Rhonda, drive him to a clinic. The next day, he slept at his grandparents' house because it was quieter than being home with his two younger sisters.
When Rhonda visited him Wednesday, he stared blankly. He tried talking, but nothing came out.
"He's having a stroke," she declared. "Call 911!"
A scan showed a mass on the right side of his brain. During an operation, doctors determined it was a stroke. Days later, it was determined the cause was a sinus infection gone severely wrong. The infection broke the barrier between the sinus and the brain, releasing a blood clot.
Nik's recovery started great. He gave hugs, pulled his mom's hair and played thumb wars with his sisters. Then, in the early hours of July 16, he had another stroke. On the other side of his brain.
Doctors said Nik may not survive. But the family wanted to give him every chance. Their faith was rewarded when he was weaned off the breathing tube.
He continued clearing hurdles, although he remained hospitalized until March. The long struggle seemed to deflate him; being home reinvigorated him. He now puts his right foot down and pushes his wheelchair. He fist bumps with his right hand, laughs, smiles and kicks.
He makes sounds and, sometimes, says words. Not enough to say he's talking. But he's trying.
"He's very aware of his surroundings," Rhonda said.
***
While each stroke story is different, every stroke shares similarities.
Time lost is brain lost. The sooner the stroke can be recognized, the sooner treatment can begin. The gold standard of treatment is called tPA. If this clot-busting drug is administered within three hours, and up to 4.5 hours in some cases, the extent of recovery can improve drastically.
That's why the American Stroke Association urges everyone to remember the acronym FAST. When you see Face drooping, Arm weakness or Speech difficulty, it's Time to call 911.
Stroke is the No. 2 killer worldwide and No. 5 in the United States. While it's true that strokes usually happen to older people is true, Ryley, Amber and Nik are proof that's not always the case.
The world of pediatric stroke is small enough -- and the pull of the internet is strong enough -- that families of survivors are bound to find each other.
For instance, Terri connected with Lea Chaulk, a Canadian mom whose son was about the same age as Ryley and had a stroke about the same time. Terri and Lea became like sisters as they helped their sons grieve over the lives they lost and learn to embrace their new reality. Lea later introduced Terri to Rhonda.
Meanwhile, Ryley got to know four teenagers from the Kansas City area who were featured by American Heart Association News after they overcame strokes during high school to graduate on time. One of those families had gotten to know the Heberts, and they connected Terri and Tirzah.
Amber (left) with Blake Ephraim, one of the teen stroke survivors from Kansas City
The three moms -- Terri, Tirzah and Rhonda -- lean on each other often. They've yet to meet in person, although Ryley and Amber have shared messages via Facebook.
"Knowing that I'm not alone has helped soooo much," Tirzah said.
"If I didn't have some of these moms, I think I'd go insane," said Rhonda, laughing. "Sometimes I sit down and get lost in thought and get upset. Then I'll send one of them a message saying `I need you to bring me back down to Earth.'"
Three families irrevocably altered, all on a July 8. It's incredible. Yet from this coincidence comes strength.
"I've told my family, `Look, it happened to two other kids on the same day,'" Tirzah said. "It's like, Wow. And we've all made it this far. And you know what? We're going to keep on going."
