Man vows to reclaim life after one-punch attack almost killed him
Stephen Maguire
A young man has spoken of how he is trying to get his life back together after he almost died following a one-punch attack.
Three years ago, Conor Gorman-Hogan spent Christmas fighting for his life in Dublin's Beaumont Hospital after he was assaulted in a Co Donegal nightclub.
This week, his attacker was jailed for three years for the brutal blow which left Mr Gorman-Hogan with a large piece of his skull missing and which changed his life forever.
David Walsh, who is originally from Dublin and had moved to Bundoran as a teenager, pleaded guilty before Donegal Circuit Court of causing serious harm.
Both young men were just eighteen at the time of the incident, which changed both of their lives forever.
Graphic CCTV footage played in court showed Walsh delivering the one-punch attack to the face of his victim in the smoking area of Paris Nightclub in Bundoran on November 27th, 2022.
As his attacker was jailed, Mr Gorman-Hogan gave a victim impact statement of the horrific experience both he and his family went through in the days leading up to Christmas three years ago.
"In other homes you had other families putting up their Christmas trees, and in our home the priest was calling every night to say the rosary with the hope that I would pull through," he said.
"I know my family are thankful for the local community and their care towards our family when the news got around the village, and we will also be grateful as a family for people's kindness.
"All my family including my younger brothers have been in counselling for trauma since the incident.
"Our home became a place where people called, horrified and spoke about our worst fears in front of two small children who should have been looking forward to Santa."
Mr Gorman-Hogan, who is now 21, said a night filled with laughter and fun changed in an instant.
As well as the psychological scars, he can no longer play sport.
"My memory of the event went from fun-filled to waking up in a hospital, feeling confused, scared, and overwhelmed. The trauma from this assault has left permanent marks on me not only physically but also mentally. It affects me every single day.
"The psychological impact has been profound. For a long time, I struggled with the fear of being alone. I constantly look over my shoulder, fearing that someone might harm me again.
"This anxiety has become a constant companion, and the fear of being attacked lingers no matter where I go. This level of hyper-vigilance is exhausting and has fundamentally changed how I interact with the world.
"The physical toll of this assault is equally devastating. Simple activities like running or jumping now cause immense pain, robbing me of the joy I once found in sports and physical activities.
"Before the assault, I was passionate about football and boxing, activities that brought me happiness and a sense of community. These are now out of reach due to the health risks and physical limitations I face."
Mr Gorman-Hogan recounted the complicated procedures carried out by skilled medical teams to not only save his life but to try and leave him with the chance of having a normal life after his surgery.
"My skull bone had been cut out and my abdomen cut open with the bone left there to keep it alive. I had wires and tubes everywhere monitoring what was going on. I don’t remember it, but my mum kept a photo diary for me, and I can’t even look at those photos now because my body was a mess, cut open to keep me alive.
"The next day when they were allowed to visit me for fifteen minutes, my head was so swollen they barely recognised me. This was the reality and the nightmare that they lived for weeks because of what happened to me that night.
"You would think that waking from the coma would be the good ending that everyone was wishing for. Little did anyone realise that when I woke up from the coma, I wasn’t able to speak properly, I wasn’t allowed to eat for weeks because the ventilator was in so long it had closed over my throat. I wasn’t coherent for weeks after I woke up.
"Imagine the nightmare of not knowing the lasting brain damage that had been caused. My injury meant I spoke like a toddler, and I was left drooling and incoherent when trying to communicate with anyone around me."
Despite these huge challenges on the road to recovery, Mr Gorman-Hogan was eventually allowed to leave Beaumont Hospital in Dublin and move to Sligo University Hospital and closer to home.
"There [in Sligo] they helped me to walk unassisted again. I had daily physio combined with occupational health visits, trying to teach me how to swallow again so that I would be able to eat and speech therapy to help me try and regain my speech.
"My mum brought my younger brothers up to see me when she was allowed, and my 3-year-old brother refused to believe it was me. My head was half missing, and he was afraid to even look at me.
"Imagine that feeling, when you are all alone in a hospital room when all you are allowed to do outside of your health appointments is to lie there and rest to try and help your brain recover.
"When I was eventually discharged, I got home for two weeks, and my mum had to reach out to Acquired Brain Injury Ireland for support. I was not myself and I couldn’t cope with the facts of what had happened. I couldn’t understand why this had happened to me. I was so frustrated and depressed that my life had changed so completely. I couldn’t look in a mirror, I became depressed, and no one was able to cope with that.
"I moved into residential care in Sligo with Acquired Brain Injury Ireland and here I went through a journey of learning to live again but with the permanent effects of what had happened to me. I was so unsteady in myself I wasn’t even allowed to go to the shop on my own, I needed someone with me all the time."
For various reasons, Conor's surgery to have his skull reconstructed was cancelled no less than six times.
"This was torment for me, I knew I had this huge head surgery looming, and my fate was down to someone else yet again. When I did eventually have the surgery the skull bone was in my stomach for so long, part of it had been reabsorbed and therefore didn’t fit correctly.
"The consequences are that I have a large hole in my temple of the side of my head. When I had my check up I asked the surgeon when the swelling would go from the operation, only to find out it's not swelling, it's brain fluid because I have a permanent hole there now with my skull unsupported.
"There is no option for further surgery, so I have that damage to the shape of my head and face for the rest of my life."
One of the worst fallouts from the attack and from suffering a severe brain injury is that Mr Gorman-Hogan has been forced to abandon his dream of becoming an electrician.
"Before the assault, I aspired to become an electrician. I worked for six months in the trade, only to discover that the noise and physical demands of the job triggered debilitating migraines.
"I wasn’t able to wear the hard hat for long periods without needing a rest because I could feel the pressure on the side of my head where my skull was no longer existent.
"The migraines I experienced were far from ordinary—the pain was relentless, forcing me to abandon my dream career. The realisation that I can no longer pursue this path is heartbreaking and deeply unfair."
He also revealed he has suffered a major change in his own personality since the incident.
"I have lost friends who didn’t recognise who I had become. This led to depression and confusion, affecting not only me but also my relationships with those around me. The changes in my personality were difficult to understand and cope with, further compounding my emotional distress.
"This assault has left me feeling vulnerable and defenceless. The thought of being attacked again terrifies me, as even a single blow to the head could have catastrophic consequences. This sense of physical fragility is something I carry with me every day, and it has fundamentally changed how I live my life."
Mr Gorman-Hogan says his family too have been impacted hugely by the tragedy to the extent that they even had to consider his funeral arrangements at one stage in case he did not survive.
"Hearing that their child might not survive is a nightmare no parent should endure. My family’s emotional pain and suffering weigh heavily on me.
"From the day my mum was woken up with the news, she drove every single morning to Beaumont on her own to sit with me for the allocated fifteen minutes, hanging around the hospital in case there were any changes. Once she knew I wasn’t walking that day, she drove back home that night to try and keep some form of normality for the lives of my younger brothers.
"They were forced into having conversations about potential funeral arrangements for me just in case the worst-case scenario did play out when she was in Dublin, imagine having to go to that place knowing you can't cope.
"The physical, emotional, and psychological scars will remain with us forever."
