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The spring of Molly Buccola's senior year at Santa Clara University, she ran the Los Angeles marathon. The next month, she and her boyfriend enjoyed a fun Sunday tooling around on bikes they borrowed from Buccola's sister, Kelley Solberg, who lived nearby.

The next morning, Buccola didn't feel up to her usual 6 a.m. run, and she slept through class. When her roommate got home that afternoon, Buccola was still in bed.

She roused Buccola, who started speaking incomprehensibly. Her left side was weak, and she needed help getting to the bathroom. The roommate called Buccola's then-boyfriend to let him know what was going on, and he called Solberg.

In the emergency room, Buccola lost consciousness. By her side, Solberg teared up as she phoned their parents, Cande and Gene Buccola, who live in Oregon. Gene was recovering from prostate surgery he'd had five days earlier, a part of his cancer treatment.

"I'm driving to the airport," Cande told Gene. He nodded in agreement.

At the hospital, doctors weren't sure what happened to Molly, who was 21 and otherwise healthy. Their initial wave of tests didn't provide any answers.

A neurologist came to the hospital the next day to review Molly's chart. He recognized the signs of a type of stroke known as venous sinus thrombosis, a blood clot that led to bleeding in both sides of her brain.

Molly got medication to break it up. She also had what was a new procedure at the time (it was 2005) called a thrombectomy, when a doctor uses a device to remove a clot from an artery.

"If she makes it through the night, we'll reevaluate," her doctor told her family. Upon hearing the grim news, Cande's knees buckled. Molly continued to lose consciousness after the procedure.

Later, with Molly in a coma, two priests sat by her bedside and delivered her last rites.

Meanwhile, Molly's other two siblings, Ryan and Tim Buccola, and their families flew to California to be by her side. They held her hand and prayed with rosary beads.

Molly woke up and gradually became more lucid. Cande knew Molly was getting better when she read aloud the one-liner jokes on the hospital popsicle sticks and waited for laughs. Molly, however, was paralyzed on her left side.

Nine days after her stroke, Molly moved in with Solberg and her husband and their new baby. Cande stayed in town to be Molly's caretaker, helping her learn how to walk again.

Cande used the same range-of-motion therapy techniques with Molly that she'd used with Gene's brother, who had ALS. Also known as Lou Gehrig's disease, it slowly weakens the muscles because the nerves that control them stop working properly.

With determination and perseverance, Molly progressed quickly from a walker to a four-point cane. She returned to school to finish her final semester. At graduation, she walked across the stage using just a cane. In the audience, her family wore T-shirts that read "Life is Good."

For the next year, Molly volunteered at a community dining hall in San Francisco, kept busy with follow-up medical appointments, and started graduate school to get a degree in educational leadership. She continued to improve physically. Then she took a job as director of campus ministry at a Catholic monastery and school. She led retreats for community members and helped leaders draft talks on life lessons.

But when it came to her stroke, Molly "just went on with life."

"I didn't understand how it fit with the rest of my life," she said. "I didn't know any other stroke survivors. So, I just tried to move on."

Gradually, with time and distance, Molly began to reflect on her stroke and remarkable recovery. She came to believe that "it really is important to stop and reflect."

In 2022, Molly, who now lives in Bend, Oregon, began volunteering as a stroke support group facilitator and came to see storytelling as an important tool.

Now, she's the founder and host of Beyond Stillness: Stories After Stroke, a nonprofit that runs a stroke storytelling program that culminates in a podcast. She meets one-on-one with survivors as they reflect on the wisdom gained through recovery and then shares their story on the podcast.

"I'm in awe of each and every guest, and the way a community has sprouted within our organization," Molly said. "The power of reflection, reframing and storytelling is profound."

Over the past year and a half, the nonprofit has recorded over 145 podcast episodes. Listeners hail from 50 states and 47 countries. The nonprofit also organizes virtual support groups, retreats and workshops for survivors.

One podcast guest said the story-crafting process made her realize "I'm strong. I have a voice. … I'm a big advocate with a purpose." Another said that Molly "sees me in the way I've always hoped to be seen." Survivors who've worked with the nonprofit have gone on to restart therapy, start their own support groups and speak about stroke.

"Molly empowers a lot of people to look at their story in a different way," Cande said. "It's beautiful work."

Stories From the Heart chronicles the inspiring journeys of heart disease and stroke survivors, caregivers and advocates.