Featured Fighter – Erin McWhirter

January 12, 2014
By: Erin McWhirter

BASIC INFO:

Name: Erin McWhirter
Age: 25
Hometown: Cascapedia-St.Jules, QC – now living in Montreal, QC
Occupation: Preschool Educator
Diagnosis: Non-malignant Ganglioglioma/Diffuse Astrocytoma brain tumour
If you were a professional boxer or wrestler, what would your name be? Stubborn Sally

HER FRIGHT:

It all started nearly a decade ago, back when I first began to think I was psychologically insane.

I felt as if I was seeing things in a way others were not; I’d begun to have odd visual experiences, in which the world around me looked different. It’s something that’s very hard to describe and I wouldn’t expect anyone to really identify with such behaviour, but I felt as if I was seeing the world in high-definition: a clearer life or a more “real” reality.

At some point, my experiences began to evolve into something greater. Not only was I seeing things extremely vivid, I was beginning to think I could predict the future. These moments of visual clarity would begin and, whilst frozen in time, I would foresee things as one would on a television screen; I was viewing an episode of my life and had the ability to watch myself through my own eyes… It was bizarre to say the least. I’d searched the internet high and low, looked in textbook upon textbook, but when you can’t even describe what it is you’re looking for, it makes things nearly impossible to find.

Since it was mentally terrifying to try and rationalize the cause for such “occurrences,” I stopped questioning and accepted the fact that there was a real possibility I was mentally unstable. To avoid being sent to a psychiatrist, I kept things to myself. It became my biggest fear and my deepest, darkest secret.

Seven months ago my neurologist clarified that what I was experiencing were actually called visual disturbances.


HER FIGHT:

In February of 2013 I had my first known tonic-clonic seizure during my sleep. I was rushed to the hospital via ambulance, where I had a CT and EEG – both of which came back “normal.” I was informed that it was “common” for people to experience a generalized seizure in their lifetime and not to worry. I left the ER without a doubt in my mind that something was wrong.

Two months following my hospital visit, in April, I began to experience a variety of seizures and met with my neurologist to explain my symptoms. It was only when he asked me if I’d noticed any perceptual changes, or if I’d seen things that were maybe not real, that I confessed to my “high-def” visualizations. He assured me that I was in no way “crazy” and informed me they were a form of visual disturbances known as auras and were commonly found in epileptics. I was diagnosed with Epilepsy, began taking anti-convulsants and was scheduled for an MRI in late June.

A week following 2 MRIs, I received a call from my neurologist and was diagnosed with a medium tumour in my right temporal lobe. He informed me that “things were about to become crazy,” and that I would be having a neurosurgery consult in the next week. I was told to tell my partner and family, make arrangements at work and relax… It’s a phone call that I’ll never forget.

I underwent a frontotemporal craniotomy in mid-July, where my surgeon achieved a total gross resection.

FIGHTING HER FRIGHT:

I gave myself two options when I received my diagnosis:

1) Go left and wallow; cry, scream, kick your feet while you look to the heavens for pity and demand, “Why me?”

2) Turn right, face your fears and fight. Pick yourself up off the ground and tell yourself that you will conquer the unimaginable.

The tumour was on the right side of my brain and I always did prefer right over left, so I said “What the heck,” packed up all of my fresh emotional baggage and pushed forward. I had a destination in mind, yet I knew it was going to be one hell of a trek to get there. As I took the first step on my journey towards the unknown, I hoped I had extra room in my backpack for all the additional emotional baggage I was bound to collect on this trip. Iweighed the outcomes of the situation: survival or death – you’ve no choice but to prepare for either, therefore you must suck it up and accept both fates… This thing could either take you for a very long ride or it could simply take you.

While I believe having a particular frame of mind is crucial, mentality can only get you so far. I’ll never be able to express how blessed and appreciative I am for my neurologist, neurosurgeon, and his clinical nurse… Words can’t describe their level of professionalism and compassion for patients. In the midst of my own neurological chaos, they granted me stability and for that I’ll be forever grateful.