Keith McGahon - Miracle Man

I was born and reared in Dundalk town, the son of a long-standing Fine Gael TD.  An engineer by trade I went out on my own in business in the early 90’s , and ran a successful motor factor business, importing airbags from around the world and retailing them here in Ireland to the crash repair industry.  I was living the fast life, riding and racing motorbikes, travelling world-wide buying stock, partying and living it up. I remember overtaking a lorry at speed on my motorbike one night, and thinking to myself if I ever went under one of them I would surely end up in a wheelchair, disabled for life.  A 40 ft 30 tonne monster.   Little did I know that a silly little brain tumour would nearly wipe me out in the blink of an eye. 

My workload got heavier in the late 90’s, so heavy that when I started getting ever increasing headaches I was more interested in the instant relief that painkillers gave me.  After two and a half years of taking prescribed painkillers from my then-GP, I collapsed in November 2002, and was rapidly diagnosed as having a large Acoustic Neuroma (brain tumour).  In many ways I was relieved to know it was a brain tumour because I was starting to feel like a hypochondriac with my many visits to the doctor.  70% of my tumour was removed in Beaumont Hospital Christmas week of 2002. I got home 6 days later on Christmas Eve.  Having felt weak and tired I put it down to having spent almost a month in bed awaiting the tumour removal.  But unfortunately on Christmas Day I collapsed, and a couple of days later on my re-admittance to Beaumont it was discovered I had had a massive stroke.  In the subsequent 6 days while being treated for an infection in my incision, I had a further two more major strokes.  The result of the strokes was the complete loss of use of my left arm, and majority of my left leg.  The  tumour also left me deaf in my left ear, and the trauma of the strokes it is believed caused the loss of  25% of my hearing in my right ear (thank God for small mercies when my girlfriend, Frances, is giving me a hard time……Ho! Ho! Ho! …..no she’s not Santy, but she is quite good to me!)  After a 3 month wait I went into the National Rehabilitation Hospital in Dun Laoghaire on the 18^th March 2003.  I had been told that I would never walk or drive again.  But over the next 6 months I learned to walk again, although my dancing days were over.  I can now walk more like a wardrobe, but who cares! I left Dun Laoghaire Hospital on July the 4^th 2003, still not fully walking but nonetheless – freedom!

I spent the next few months under the instruction of the Hospital living with my mother, before on a check up I begged them to take me back – I could no longer do it! (Just kidding Mum!!)  It was then agreed I had made a good enough recovery to be deemed fit to live alone. 

I went back to work part-time for myself, and mainstream living kicked in once again.  My troubles were far from over, as over the next 6 months I experienced some serious painful times, before it was discovered that the blood supply to both my hips had been killed off by the large amount of steroids pumped into my body to reduce the size of the tumour – a condition called avascular necrosis.  The pain got worse as my right hip deteriorated, but once again I continued on dealing with the pain in the best way I could, sometimes forgetting about it completely. 

Unfortunately in August of 2007, my hip locked coming down a flight of stairs, causing me to lose my step and I fell to the bottom, fracturing my skull and having 3 brain haemorrhages – 2 external, and 1 internal.  I got over this fast, and was back on my feet in a flash.  (Unfortunately – again!) in March 2008 as I walked down the street there was a loud crack and I collapsed on the footpath.  I at first thought I had stood on a twig, but was to find out after spending a good hour screaming like a maniac in pain, that my left upper leg bone structure had shattered – again related to the overload of steroids keeping my tumour under control in 2002.  After one month in hospital and the total rebuild of my upper left leg with titanium rods and plates, I then went to spend a month in a nursing home, by choice, as my home was not suitable to return to, and my parents were too elderly to care for me. While my sisters and brothers were very supportive, they had their own lives and families to take care of.  It was a learning experience that I’ve never gathered so much from.  All around me were old people in various states of mental and physical decay.  Believe it or not, it was only then did I become grateful for how lucky I really was, in many ways.

The summer of 2008 was good until a joy-rider knocked me down breaking two ribs and causing me to have a further brain haemorrhage the following evening – my 4^th in 12 months.  I met my now-girlfriend the day before and she came to see me in hospital while I was recovering, and it was then I realised she was a very good person, and more or less what I needed to keep going. 

In early December of 2008 after a 4 year wait I had my right hip replaced in the Mater Private Hospital.  This had been my greatest demon since my downfall in 2002.  January 2009 kicked off with a bang and I was all brand new. 

Looking back on my experiences over the last few years I realise now I have swam oceans and climbed mountains in my recovery.  Though I am still waiting for my first state-sponsored physiotherapy session, or occupational therapy, I am very grateful to all of those who have helped me – the doctors and nurses, and my family, who I think still struggle more than I do to understand the impact of my disability.  Now 37, my business more or less wiped out by my illness and the shrinking Irish economy, I understand there is only one way and that is forward.  I have to stay focused and strong.  I am planning maybe on returning to college, or starting another business – who knows………the way I see it the day I fell ill, I was down South in Cork City, had I been up North I could have won the lottery.  One thing I understand now more than ever is Shit Happens, life is short and we must ride it hard. Every man’s problems are the worst in the world to himself, no matter how trivial.  I’d like to say to any other sufferers of Acquired Brain Injuries your greatest cure is acceptance and belief in yourself.  These days laughter is the fuel I run on (ask Frances who has to listen to me rattling off jokes at 4 o’clock in the morning!).  I’m now extremely driven, fearless and of the belief there is nothing I cannot do with perseverance, and nothing that can take me down now. Maybe one day I’ll write a book……………

Keith McGahon 2009

Update:  2013.  Mum passed away in February 2012, after a tough battle with emphysema - from someone like me who has had to cling to life, don't go down that road.  I'm now 41 and going strong.  Having fractured a vertebra and dislocated my shoulder in June 2011, when my van ran me over (I kid you not) I found out the Avascular Necrosis had spread. In October 2011 I had my left shoulder replaced, and the following April my right shoulder.  That’s me done for the moment although I will need to have all the major joints done again at some point in the future.  Local rags have tagged me the miracle man - I don't see myself that way, I just think of myself as a regular joe.  All’s good.

http://www.independent.ie/regionals/argus/news/miracle-man-26933752.html