Healing happens better together

The role of partnership in the journey of recovery

While some love stories start with fireworks, Otto and Clyde Feil’s began with a dance.

They first met at a party when they were both 15. The Lovin’ Spoonful played through a speaker, and they danced together for hours. Since Otto didn’t have his driver’s license yet, he never called Clyde afterward. Two years later, fate intervened at the Atlanta Public Library, where they unexpectedly came face to face at the card catalog.

They dated long distance through college, with Otto at Yale and Clyde at Wellesley, logging countless miles back and forth before marrying in 1973. Together, they attended law school at the University of Georgia, built a life and family in Atlanta, and formed a partnership that would carry them through more than five decades of joy, challenge, and deep devotion.

The choice that changed everything

On the morning of April 16, 2018, Otto had a severe coughing fit from undiagnosed pneumonia. Soon after, he showed signs of a stroke. Clyde rushed him to the emergency room at St. Joseph’s Hospital, and he was later airlifted to Grady Memorial Hospital.

At Grady, the neurologist explained Otto’s options. Without intervention, Otto likely would not survive. Surgery offered a chance to restore circulation to his brain, but there was a risk of significant impairment.

“I said, ‘Do it,’” Clyde recalls. “I wanted him to have the best chance.”

Amid uncertainty, humor surfaced in an unexpected way.

While Otto was still hospitalized, Clyde got a call from a friend at a local cemetery about the burial plots they’d requested years before. Clyde replied, “That’s wonderful, and the timing couldn’t be better, because I think we’re going to need one this week.”

The caller was horrified. Otto and Clyde still laugh about it now. “It struck me as darkly funny,” Clyde says. “I use that story to test people’s sense of humor.”

Otto survived the surgery. After 10 days at Grady, he transferred to Shepherd Center for inpatient rehabilitation. Together, Otto and Clyde began again.

Recovery as a shared practice

At Shepherd Center, rehabilitation became something they took on side by side. Clyde stepped into the role of care partner as physical, occupational, and speech therapy filled nearly every day.

There were setbacks, long hours, and a kind of exhaustion that only someone navigating a traumatic injury alongside a loved one can truly understand.

“They had these wonderful mats,” Clyde recalls. “They’d be working with Otto in one corner, and I’d pass out on another because I was so tired. They called me ‘The Sleeper.’”

Through it all, the care team supported not only Otto, but also Clyde. Therapists like speech pathologist Amy Waite offered expertise, encouragement, and steadiness on days that felt especially heavy, helping to create space for something just as important as progress: humor.

“Otto had a great sense of humor through all of the frustrations related to not being able to talk,” Amy recalls.

“One session we were working on saying simple words, and he had easily said “beep.” For the next word, he was stuck on “beep.” We worked hard to get the sounds together. He screwed up his face, made a fist, and brought it down on the table trying to say the next word only to very loudly say “beep” again! We both burst out laughing hysterically and had the whole gym wondering what was wrong with us!”

Humor and a really good cocktail

While rehabilitation demanded patience and grit, laughter proved to be one of Otto and Clyde’s most dependable tools.

“I was so relieved that Otto still had his sense of humor,” Clyde says.

“One great thing about Otto is that he can hear a joke for the second time and laugh as if it’s the first time. He never says, ‘I’ve heard that.’ He always has a fresh way of coming to laughter.”

Otto’s physical therapist, Chris Ready, jokes that Otto likes to introduce Clyde to things he knows she will absolutely dislike, like gory movies, inappropriate internet articles, and Tiger King. They laugh easily together, often like kids, he notes.

That humor carries them through each day, weaving its way into therapy sessions and everyday routines. After long hours filled with repetitions and exercises, they often mark progress with a well‑earned toast.

Before his stroke, you could often find Otto behind a cocktail shaker, taking pride in crafting creative concoctions. Now, mixing drinks has a new purpose. It helps him practice balance and coordination while doing something he loves.

“It’s standing therapy,” Clyde says with a smile. “With bourbon.”

Finding community

Otto lives with Broca’s aphasia, which makes it hard for him to use grammar, small connecting words, and numbers.

After his stroke, he found renewed confidence and community through support groups, like the Georgia Aphasia Project. Last November, he delivered a speech to 50 students at Georgia State University. Encouraged by the shared experience, he returned to the aphasia boot camp this January.

“It changed my life,” Otto says. “It was hard, but worth it.”

Otto also took part in Georgia State University’s Aphasia Choir program, singing classics by Elvis, the Jackson 5, and Chuck Berry alongside others navigating similar challenges. Music became another way to communicate, connect, and belong.

“I enjoyed singing and getting to know the other stroke survivors taking part in the choir,” Otto recalls.

“I quit when they started singing songs by Justin Bieber.”

From fighting alligators to finding peace

For decades, Otto was a driven trial lawyer, working long, intense days.

“I’d ask, ‘How was work?’” Clyde recalls. “He’d answer, ‘Killing alligators all day long.’” When Otto was forced to step away after his stroke, his clients were devastated.

Retirement, though unplanned, has brought a quieter fullness. It has made room for reading thick history books, looking up interesting facts online, watching high-profile trials, and spending time with grandchildren. Most importantly, it has given Otto and Clyde more time together.

April 16, 2025, marked seven years since Otto’s stroke. Both he and Clyde agree that these have been the best years of their lives.

To Clyde, Otto is her companion and love. She admires his steady optimism and calls him a warrior. To Otto, Clyde is his angel.

Their shared devotion carries them through each day, summed up into a phrase Otto returns to again and again, always with certainty.

“God is good.”

About Shepherd Center

With five decades of experience, Shepherd Center provides world-class clinical care, research, and family support for people experiencing the most complex conditions, including spinal cord and brain injuries, multi-trauma, traumatic amputations, stroke, multiple sclerosis, and pain. An elite center ranked by U.S. News as one of the nation’s top hospitals for rehabilitation, Shepherd Center is also recognized as both Spinal Cord Injury and Traumatic Brain Injury Model Systems. Shepherd Center treats thousands of patients annually with unmatched expertise and unwavering compassion to help them begin again.

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