Voice of Experience

WGMS's Diana Hollander Thought Epilepsy Would Transform Her Life. She Was Right.

For Diana Hollander, the bottom came in the fall of 2001, after 2 1/2 years of struggle and uncertainty. Along the way, there were signposts: The seizure on the side of busy Seven Locks Road, a moment that made it clear that driving was no longer an option. The two attacks in Aspen, on back-to-back days, an incident so rattling that a ski vacation was canceled, flights immediately booked for home. The one in the mall, when she recovered only to face the horrified stares of strangers, her insides roiling with shame.

By October 2001, the seizures had become so unpredictable, so unnerving, that the worst happened: Hollander lost the job that she loved.

And so she went to bed. In the house in the small cul-de-sac in Potomac, she lay there, day after day, week after week, and wondered if this was what her life would be now: homebound, unable to drive, too embarrassed -- and afraid -- to go out in public, incapable of holding a job, not even allowed to take a bath alone.

She was 33 years old. Ever since her mid-twenties, she had been the signature voice of classical music in the District, the midday host at WGMS-FM (Classical 103.5), the top-rated commercial classical station in the country with 450,000 listeners a week. Listeners loved her. She was smart but not condescending, effervescent without being fluffy, a perfect accompaniment to the music she played.

"There's a sparkle in her voice -- she presents such a bright sound on the radio," says Jim Allison, the WGMS program director. "She knows classical music very well and she knows the arts very well, and she fit right in, being accessible to listeners."

Then the epilepsy struck. It came out of nowhere -- Hollander had no family history, no earlier problems with seizures, nothing that would predict that one day she would fall on the floor of her radio studio, her body jerking and contracting, her co-workers stunned. It was May 8, 1998, the date of her first seizure. The next six years would be filled with more seizures, more fears, more tests and exams and medications. She would dip into a deep depression, certain her life as she had known it was over.

"I was 30 years old, at the height of my career," says Hollander. "I loved my job. And, yes, I would go places and be recognized. You get spoiled a little bit. And then everything was gone. So, yes, it was a long fall."

And, it turns out, a long climb back. On June 1, Hollander returns to the studio at WGMS, and returns to her old time slot -- the 10 a.m.-3 p.m. show that she describes, with both affection and possessiveness, as "mine." For the past two years, as she has slowly gained more control over her epilepsy, Hollander has been working for WGMS out of a studio in her basement. To her, this is returning to the "big time."

"It was something I never imagined would be possible," she says. "I loved something so much, and I thought I had lost it forever, and that was heartbreaking."

Hollander was born in New York, the child of immigrant parents, her father from Germany, her mother from Austria. Her great-grandfather Gustav Hollaender was a well-known violinist who helmed the Stern Conservatory in Berlin. His brother, Victor Hollaender, was a famous conductor; Victor's son, Friedrich Hollaender, was a famous composer of cabaret music, who penned songs for Marlene Dietrich.

Classical music was woven through Hollander's childhood. She learned to play the piano, the recorder, the clarinet, the oboe. She attended the international school at the United Nations -- her father, Peter Hollander, was a filmmaker who worked for the U.N. -- and learned to speak both German and French. She knew from a young age the correct way to pronounce Wagner.

After studying theater at Mount Holyoke College, Hollander moved to Washington to work for the Cultural Alliance of Greater Washington. She made some friends at WGMS, who encouraged her to audition for an opening. Allison heard the sparkle in her voice -- her nickname at the station is "Bubbles" -- and she was hired. After a year and a half working the overnight shift, the coveted midday slot opened, and Hollander found her home.

And she was happy. She lived in an apartment in Adams Morgan, had great friends, adored her job, remained extremely close to her family.

She didn't even know what epilepsy was.