Neurogenic Stuttering
- Christopher Loranger

- Jun 23
- 4 min read

by Chris Loranger
I am a neurogenic stutterer. Also called late-onset stuttering, this is a form of dysfluency that comes on due to stroke, neurologic disease, a new medication, brain injury, or one of many other medical reasons.
In other words, the change in the fluency of a neurogenic stutterer is a symptom of the greater medical or psychological issue. My stuttering came on due to a dual diagnosis of Complex PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder.
When my stuttering began, I was teaching at Emily Carr University of Art and Design in Vancouver, and my courses were three-hour lectures. Of course, there was interaction with my students, but I had a very, very heavy curriculum that demanded that I do most of the talking. The university had to act fast to replace me so that my students would not lose their credits. It saddened me to lose my job, but by far the greatest adaptation I faced was learning how to function.
I wanted to live in a place where no one knew that I was once fluent.
Because of the way my stuttering now manifested, I found that I was essentially mute in public places. My dysfluency changed unpredictably. Many social/environmental factors affected my speech. I could not use the phone, and had to start using a telephone referral service to make calls. Stuttering wasn’t my problem, communication was my problem. The inability to interact the way I used to with my friends made me bitterly sad. I couldn’t be angry with them, so I’d over-react with anger to communication malfunctions with my bank, pharmacy and doctor’s office. Over the years, I’ve had to fight to function, and I get tired and frustrated.
Besides dysfluency, the onset of my neurological condition also brought on a seizure disorder. I wanted to get away from people and the need to talk. I moved out of the city. I moved to live rurally on an island. I wanted to live in a place where no one knew that I was once fluent. I wanted to shed acquaintances and I prayed my closest friends would work with me via video-chats and visits. It all had a huge impact on my life and I was on my own.
I am very lucky that my medical crisis occurred after the invention of video chatting technology because it is easier for me to speak when I can see the person with whom I am speaking. Also, having an iPad enabled me to communicate in text with clerks, receptionists, doctors, dentists, my accountant and other strangers.
Stuttering wasn’t my problem, communication was my problem.
I had no help in adapting to dysfluency at all. I was left entirely to my own resources to learn new methods of communication, and it was an all-consuming challenge. Never once, in the two and a half years of treatment following the onset of my dysfluency did any medical or therapeutic professional offer advice, nor did any of them refer to my speech as stuttering. It was only because I viewed a film entitled Stutterer that it occurred to me that I might be a stutterer myself. I began joining stuttering organizations, seeking connection with other late-onset stutterers. STAMMA was especially welcoming. They created a support group for neurogenic stutterers, and I became co-leader with Tracey, a Speech Language Pathologist.
We neurogenic stutterers are different from developmental stutterers. I’ve become an advocate for my fellows because I felt so alone, confused and excluded when my condition came on. Because our speech is a symptom of a disease or accident, it is often not as much of a concern of our doctors. We are left to cope on our own and for many of us, it is a lonely challenge. We are people who have been fluent all our lives and so shame plagues many of us. Thankfully, that was not my issue, which may be why STAMMA saw me as fit to be the co-leader of their late onset stutterers support group.
At puberty, I realized that I liked other boys long before the gay rights movement caught fire. I lived a closeted life until I was twenty-four, and when I finally came out, I resolved never, ever to be ashamed of anything about myself again. That’s why my speech did not trigger shame, it just required that I find new ways to communicate.
I was no longer fighting alone for myself; instead, I was part of a team fighting for systemic change for all dysfluent people.
Once I began thinking of myself as a stutterer, everything changed. I found a welcoming and highly empathetic community in various support groups, but the best things to happen to me were: learning about the telephone referral service, meeting Aidan and discovering SPACE. In SPACE I found the perfect home because it is focused on advocacy and welcomed a voic
e speaking for all late-onset stutterers.
SPACE provided the perfect partners for my advocacy ambitions. Aidan and his community of stutterers, creatives and advocates energized and enthused me. I was no longer fighting alone for myself; instead, I was part of a team fighting for systemic change for all dysfluent people through the Listening Equity Project. I’m terribly proud of what we are doing through that project to improve access to social service providers for dysfluent people. We are developing a course for paramedics and other medical professionals to post on the SPACE website, and soon we’ll be addressing systemic problems with banks that dysfluent people experience.
Working with and for the stuttering community has been life changing. Nothing, absolutely nothing beats the ‘I am not alone’ feeling I got from meeting other stutterers through the stuttering agencies that I joined. To speak without any concern whatsoever about my blocks and repetitions, and to hear them in others was uplifting.
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Chris Loranger designed and built the theatre at Presentation House in North Vancouver and founded the art gallery that is now called Polygon Gallery in North Vancouver. He enjoyed success as an author and playwright and as a teacher at Emily Carr University of Art and Design. Late in life he became a neurogenic stutterer, and since the onset of his stutter, nothing has made him happier about being a stutterer than discovering SPACE, Aidan and the many incredibly interesting community of SPACE.


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