Surmounted and Absorbed
Written by Katie Gerke
To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1
I grew up in a small town of Drayton Valley, Alberta with four other siblings, two dogs, a cat and umpteen guinea pigs. My parents did their best to provide and nurture with the tools and skills that were bequeathed to them from their parents. I never aspired to be anything. Although, in Grade 5, I did want to be a horse but dropped that notion when I realized I had to carry somebody on my back. Regardless of that startling revelation, I came out of my childhood with the usual scraped knees and elbows and a nasty third-degree burn on my index finger of my right hand from stirring sugar into molten syrup, in Grade 2.
In 1979, at the age of 15, we moved to Calgary, Alberta and it was at this time that my brain grew over the line between childhood naivety into the discombobulated world of dysfunction, extreme sadness and loneliness. For the next three years, I had no solid foundation, firm supports, trustworthy materials or a readable blueprint of what “Katie Martha Gerke” (KMG) was supposed to start to look like.
The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.
Proverbs 16:9
I started making personal bonds and found a love connection while procuring life lessons working at Zellers, Woodward’s and a liquor store that was still operated by the Alberta Liquor Control Board since Prohibition ended in 1929. At the age of 19 while In the process of securing contracts with people that would enable me to start making concrete plans, my mother passed away. She was 48 years old.
In September of 1983, I enrolled in the Medical Radiographer Program at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology, in Edmonton, Alberta. My 24-month internship was spent between the Institution and the General Hospital in Calgary. At graduation, I was awarded the prestigious “Dr. Symington Award for Efficiency and Proficiency”. This accolade was given to the student, as voted on by their peers, who displayed such qualities throughout their training. It was this blue certificate, in its gold frame that was my first tangible affirmation that I was clever, practical, determined, adaptive, diligent, and attentive.
(Dr. Kenneth Symington served in the Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF) as a radiologist during WW II. He was the head of radiology at the Calgary General Hospital from 1948 to 1970)
My closest peers would be excessively obsequious and I found their behavior to be so disconcerting lacking in integrity and humility. On reflection, their negative behavior affected me positively. I knew that I could stand alone on my own merits and my ambitions were not of position, but more of positioning myself where I would be most effective in helping others.
In 1986, I volunteered with the Calgary Police Service in their Victim Assistance Unit for 18 months. I was shocked at the amount of crime that can occur in a 48 hour time period. My case file would be full come Monday and I had to set aside my adverse reactions to these senseless offenses and focus on the immediate needs of the victims and empathize with their situation. I had to put all of my energies into providing comfort, encouragement and to supply them with the tools to help them, for instance, navigate through the judicial system after an arrest was made.
I thrived in this environment and this experience was my initiation into advocating on behalf of others to help them regain some normalcy, security, and empowerment back into their lives. My last case was a murder-suicide, where I was involved with a husband whose wife was killed, in front of their two children, by an ex-boyfriend.
“Pride Incorporated” (PI) was founded in 1988 by Me, Myself and I. The guiding principles had a positive connotation of dignity, self-worth, self-respect and I would take delight in small victories and valuable accomplishments. Self-adulation, conceit, and ostentatious behavior were not tolerated. PI was essential in helping Myself to build KMG the way I needed to.
PI was in direct competition with the Devil’s Demolition Derelicts (DDD) whose mission is to cast doubt, exploit my lack of understanding, distort, hinder, destroy, persecute, attack and ultimately destroy KMG. I would have no idea how powerful a force they would be in my life to come.
And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light
2 Corinthians 11:14
The first “puzzling piece” that would drop in the middle of my design was, after doing a rigorous workout on a stationary bike and when getting off, my right leg buckled as I tried to stand. This disturbing anomaly would happen a few more times but I disregarded this weakness due to my overzealous workouts. Another bobble presented itself when I would trip, but I also dismissed this due to the fact that the right sole, on my favorite pair of summer shoes, was starting to come off.
At the age of 24, when my friends and family failed to keep me grounded, I perused more lofty ambitions by changing my latitude and longitude and flew off to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I committed to a one-year contract at the King Fahd National Guard Hospital. In the 1980s, Saudi Arabia was somewhat of a developing country and needed foreigners to work within their existing infrastructure, such as hospitals, to meet the needs of their citizens.
Employees and their families were housed in a compound with all the amenities of a small town a kilometer from the hospital. Within a week after moving into a 2000 ft.² air-conditioned villa, I was caught up in a sandstorm of activities. I went to Jeddah to take diving lessons in the Red Sea, and made a trip into the Asir Mountains, to Al-Abha, near the Yemeni border, to explore the Turkish history in the area. There were expeditions out to the desert to see stunning, red sand dunes, ancient ruins, and hiking. Shopping at the diverse and very old souks for gold, carpets, and kitsch was like stepping back in time to the days of Lawrence of Arabia. There were endless get-togethers, on and off the compound, celebrating various themes and holidays where we enjoyed homemade wine and alcohol that would blind a camel.
What was remarkable was that I was constantly surrounded by people! It took every effort to stay at home alone to get laundry done and clean my room of sand and pigeon feathers that would make their way through the air conditioner vents.
In December, I went to Dubai. In February, I went to Kenya. In March, I took a train trip to Bahrain. In May, I went to Greece and Turkey. When my contract ended, I toured England with some close friends.
In the spring of 1989, some more “puzzling pieces”, not only dropped onto my blueprints but tore right through some pages detailing my keen character and unabashed fervor for life. I walked a crooked line in the 55° C weather, my foot felt heavy on a hike while at Pinnacle Rock, I slept all weekend while visiting Bahrain, and I nearly fell down a very steep hill in Santorini. In England, I stopped and rested in far too many pubs because of my overwhelming fatigue from exploring the many tourist attractions.
Once home, I tried to get answers regarding my persistent symptoms that plagued my right leg. Specialists explored cardiovascular anomalies and spinal tumors which yielded negative results. Multiple Sclerosis (MS) was another possibility but at the time, due to the limited diagnostic tools available to accurately diagnose the disease, the results were inconclusive.
I was extremely disorientated and lonely due to the fact that I did not come back to a stable and strong group of close friends and family. I missed the closeness and camaraderie of my desert tribe. I took out a personal ad to find a boyfriend, attempted to change my profession to become a Radiation Therapist, started back with the Victim Assistance Unit and worked part-time at the General Hospital.
Throughout 1990, I was unsuccessful at assimilating and KMG was looking tattered and the worksite looked muddled and muddy. Work permits were temporarily halted due to prolonged befuddlement and I had to concede that 1990 would be on the top of my list of “The Worst Years of My Life.” Alas, this list would get very, very, long.
In August of 1990, I recklessly took my life and my right leg into my hands and reapplied to go back to the Middle East, on a two-year contract, even though I was still experiencing symptoms. Also, I had no qualms regarding the potential conflict after the invasion of Kuwait by Iraq and was optimistic that this was just a “sandbox” tussle. Besides, my physical being would be thousands of miles away. I became heavy laden when I packed my “Feint” along with ample apprehension, substantial unevenness and crushing denial into a backpack that would sit squarely and firmly upon my shoulders. I deceived everyone, explaining that I had knee surgery, hence the wobbly walk.
I became a country bumpkin when I nestled into a little town called Al-Baha that was located in the Asir Mountains. This locale is not to be confused with Al-Abha, which I visited in 1988. Due to the altitude, the temperatures ranged from 0°C in the winter and 25°C in the summer, as opposed to the heat, felt in the desert. Another relief was that the hospital and all the amenities, within the compound, where just blocks away from my apartment building, The social life was relaxed and instead of numerous out-of-control parties, we spent our weekends, hiking, camping, and diving down at the Red Sea, which was only a two-hour drive away.
On the weekend of January 17, 1991, I decided to go to Riyadh to purchase a camcorder for my upcoming trip. Keep in mind that I lived on top of a mountain with no television or reliable newspapers, which inevitably led me to have no idea of the severity of the situation in Kuwait and the buildup of troops during Desert Storm. I arrived in Riyadh at 3:00 AM, 20 minutes after the first airstrikes to hit Baghdad started. I was stuck in the City for four days and while there I went to the Canadian Embassy to get registered, got fitted for a gas mask and attended one party. Unfortunately, I did not get what I came for, but, I did get more than I bargained for.
Throughout 1991, after the War ended, a close friend and I went to Sri Lanka for three weeks. I went to Dubai for a baseball tournament, Jeddah for Christmas and Riyadh for the New Year.
My heavy backpack started to slip off my shoulders and the contents spilled out and were discovered by my colleagues. The tranquility of the environment on the mountain, that I easily managed when I first arrived, gave way to exhaustion and debilitating episodes of paralysis that would put me in the hospital for weeks. Since I was unable to rejuvenate and find the rest I so desperately needed, I had to end my contract early and left in April of 1992. On my way home to Canada, my girlfriend Corinne and I took a six-week holiday and went to Egypt, Portugal, and England. Those weeks were made even more glorious with the constant support of my mighty friend and her strong right arm. (Corinne was later diagnosed with MS in 2004.)
In the beginning of June 1992, I was given a lifetime contract when I was positively diagnosed with MS. I stumbled my way aimlessly through Calgary where KMG barely had enough support and financial resources to continue standing on My own two feet.
PI was finding it difficult to maintain some semblance of control in moving forward to compensate for, not only the unpredictable physical structural deterioration, but the stress and weakness felt by the emotional substructure contained within.
Drafting tools were needed to help downsize lofty ambitions, contain non-productive thoughts and discouraging emotions, devise a clear plan to garner moral support, a ruler to realign expectations, paper to document revitalization efforts and re-articulation of character traits and a “blank slate” so I could sketch out what KMG was supposed to look like now. Talk about writer’s block!
While collecting such tools, I experienced my first treatment of steroids that liberated me from my symptoms in such a way that I felt I could fly! Sadly, I needed to start reading the fine print of my contract to find out that the benefits of steroids are short-lived. I only had three more treatments in the years to come since the side effects, such as osteoporosis and cataracts, outweighed the benefits.
I found a few jobs working at some medical clinics and a chiropractor’s office but the physical demands on me were too great. I needed to be resourceful and practical and find a profession where there would be more sitting than standing. Relying on the Government to support me financially was an option not to be entertained because I would feel embarrassed to think that others would see me as weak, lazy and unmotivated.
In June of 1993, I enrolled at the DeVry Institute of Technology in a three-year Computer Sciences Program. Working with a computer was a concept that was hard to grasp due to the fact that my adoration for people was now replaced with something that had no character, history and lacked the ability to engage me in purposeful conversation.
I graduated in 1996 with a Bachelor of Science Degree in Computer Information Systems that reassured me that I was still clever, practical, determined, resourceful, adaptive, and diligent. With great disappointment, however, no remarkable or lasting friendships were cultivated and with this, my interpersonal skills faded. My new rigid supports consisted of a cane and a manual wheelchair and I dreaded having to rely on these new trappings. My self-confidence depreciated because my right leg was starting to stiffen and I was thrown off balance when I could not lift my right foot. My dignity was compromised since my portrayal of myself as a strong and attractive woman was being made to look weak and awkward. My fierce self-reliance and refusal to use such devices were illogical when I started to have unpredictable and spectacular falls that not only made me look pathetic but convinced me I didn’t look so strong and attractive lying at the bottom of the stairs!
On a recommendation from an acquaintance, I was hired as a software analyst, at a flourishing company in downtown Calgary. I’m thankful she was able to see my potential while I was focused on getting through my last treatment of steroids. My clever and practical three-year plan was a success and sitting, fit well in my job description. I was made a valuable, respected employee, and was compensated very well for my efforts. Rapid construction was now taking place in and around KMG. At this time, I was now using a manual wheelchair most of the time but was still able to walk a few steps with the help of a cane. My driving privileges were taken away after I almost killed my brother going to get groceries. Oddly, I didn’t mourn that loss.
In 1997, my extracurricular activities included being on the Board of Directors of the MS Society of Calgary and the Disabled Sailing Association of Alberta. I took sailing lessons, raced competitively in regattas throughout the summer and worked out religiously twice a week. I thrived on the busyness of the work week but I soon dreaded the weekends.
I had no dependable pushers to take me out of the house to explore in and around Calgary. Strangely enough, I soon hated the sound of lawn mowers on a sunny, Saturday morning, while I lay in bed without any anticipation of what the day might bring. The sound reminded me that summer would soon be in full bloom and this seasonal change would bring to mind, among many things, that “everyone” would be gardening, swimming, biking, camping and hiking except for me. Regardless of my many accomplishments and hectic work days, there would start to be an imperceptible undercurrent of sadness and lament over the beginning of such losses.
After two years of hard work, I bought a 1000 ft.² condominium, in the new community of Harvest Hills, for $105,000. Those were the days! As my condominium was being built, I was able to make changes to the kitchen and the bathroom that were conducive to my physical needs. Bruce, my cat, and I settled in for what I hoped would be a very permanent and comfortable existence. Along with the new home, I also moved into a new position as a Customer Service Analyst. My duties included providing technical support and product training for our customers and meeting regularly with developers to resolve the problems customers were having with the software. I embraced the challenges set before me.
As the seasons passed, my social inclusion started to wane when I failed to find any sort of meaningful relationships within the company. My freedom was no longer spontaneous and it was very difficult for me to participate in after work activities and my wheelchair prevented me from accessing spaces and places where such people gathered to have fun. I felt extremely sad and left out when others spoke of their weekends and holiday plans. My peers went to conferences to upgrade their professional skills while I sat at a standstill.
I have seen something else under the sun:
The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant
or favour to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.
Ecclesiastes 9:11
I participated in two Mobility Cups which is an International Regatta for Disabled Sailors. In 1999, I went to Toronto and raced on Lake Ontario and in 2000, it was held at the Point Claire Yacht Club in Montréal. For the Millennium New Year, I traveled to Atlanta, Georgia with a dear friend, ate deep-fried turkey and thoroughly enjoyed the various city attractions. However, these major events were few and far between. I missed the intensity of the extravagant travel and social events that abounded when I was in the Middle East.
PI’s ambitious goals became completely unrealistic and my value plummeted when I was finding it difficult to weight bear on both legs which made it unsafe for me to safely transfer to and from my chair, toilet or bed. My bladder started to become neurogenic. This unexpected and gradual organ failure was devastating and overwhelmed me since I was unable to manage to keep dry. When I would get home, Bruce’s hugs had to be kept short since I was soaked to the tips of my toes and my dry cleaned work clothes, wet. I would wake up in urine-soaked sheets in the middle of the night and in the mornings when I sat up to get out of bed, I would gush urine all over my expensive cotton rug from the Iran.
I felt grief after losing the use of my beloved bladder and humiliated that its functionality was replaced by an ugly, brown, plastic tube that would drain the urine into a bag strapped to my leg. I just didn’t feel pretty anymore. Come to think of it, I neither felt pretty crumpled at the bottom of the stairs nor being soaked to the bone and smelling like a toilet instead of eau de toilette. I slowly started to see the full potential of this ensemble when I could now enjoy a cup of coffee, a mug of beer, a glass of wine and unlimited glasses of water without the anxiety of trying to find the quickest route to an accessible washroom. Most importantly, I had more time to play with Bruce since there was less laundry to do!
On reflection, I always balked at the stoppages in construction due to denial that forced me to accept system failures, relinquish power and make the necessary adjustments to create and maintain harmony and integrity. Ironically, it was these inconveniences that made me experience profound moments, if ever so briefly, of revived freedom and normalcy that translated into a sense of hope and even joy, albeit on my own strengths and self-determination. If only I could capture and remember these fleeting restorative glimmers in time so I could find solace, in the years to come, when my struggles would inevitably become insufferable.
Mentally, I was all a 36-year-old woman should be, but spite of all of my efforts and clamoring to maintain a modified image of stability and durability, my body was crumbling under the weight of fatigue, physical failure, and a smothering depression. Management cut my work week down to three days and moved me away from the hustle and bustle of the help desk to a small cubicle, with high gray walls, in the furthest corner of the floor. I was given menial tasks to perform and in four short years was no longer an essential, significant or a valued employee. I felt like I was being buried alive by my burdens, in a gray coffin, of that meaningless space.
My days started to get very long and I was not managing my health wisely. I was up at 5:30 a.m., since it took me two hours to get ready for my work day that started at 8:30 a.m. and ended at 5:00 a.m. Then I was either going to the gym, sailing or at a meeting. Once home, to a very lonely cat, I would struggle for at least another hour to get undressed and get myself into bed. I had to prove to myself and others that KMG was strong, impressive and resilient.
Having patiently waited for a myriad of years, the DDD crossed over the property line, unchallenged, and began their methodical and sinister destruction of KMG. I did not have enough resources to confront and force the trespassers out and the edifice that I was lovingly building became blurred and unrecognizable to passersby.
In November 2000, I was admitted to the Foothills Hospital Rehabilitation Unit, a shell of a person and was utterly and completely unable to care for myself. I cried out to a God and demanded that He take me away in the night. After six very lonely and disparaging weeks of limited rehabilitation, I never did regain any new mental, emotional or physical strength but I did gain the reality that I would be totally dependent on others for my personal care needs. To this day, I have no memory as to how I ended up in the Hospital.
Transition Services frantically sought out adequate Home Care for me so that I could be discharged into safe hands. I was emancipated five days before Christmas and for the next three years remained in a state of bewilderment due to the unpredictability and fickle nuances of Home Care. I “walked” out of the Hospital with a brand-new electric wheelchair that would enable me to go great distances but that sense of freedom would have to wait for another four months until spring arrived.
Kathy Plum was a wonderful woman who was my most reliable caregiver who revitalized and strengthened my spirits. She attended Center Street Church and as the weeks and months went by she started to plant seeds of faith and hope in and around me.
The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.
Matthew 13:31–32
One day lying in bed, feeling sad, I asked her to read me the story about Joseph. She proceeded to tell me how he was sold into slavery by his brothers and eventually became the most powerful man in Egypt. Quite perplexed, I asked her where Mary was in all of this. She laughed and explained to me that I had the wrong Joseph in mind.
As my relationship with Kathy grew stronger, she invited me to an “Alpha Course” at the Harvest Hills Alliance Church that was conveniently across the street from my condominium. This program helps people to explore the Christian faith by answering questions such as:
What is my purpose in life? What does it mean to be a Christian? Who are God, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit? What relevance would Jesus Christ have in my life? We completed the course, but emotionally I was unable to retain the hope and peace that was being taught.
I started reading and meditating on the “easy parts” of the Bible. Proverbs taught me insight on wisdom, how to begin an intimate relationship with God. The Book of Psalms gave me comfort, hope, direction and guidance on how to use my heart and my voice to call on God. Parables, which are rich in imagery and not easily forgotten, were an effective and memorable way of conveying the divine truths. Furthermore, they suggested how a person should behave or believe and provides guidance for proper actions in life.
Every Scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, for convincing, for correction of error, and for instruction in right doing;
2 Timothy 3:16
Regardless of being home in my own bed and having regular visits from Home Care, I had very few visits from family and friends. I started to feel unbearable isolation and as a result, my depression exacerbated and I found very little enjoyment in the activities I once thrived on.
My ever faithful, feline friend, Bruce, better known as Sniks, Snickers, Snaks, Snaplets, Snips, Snipplets and Mr. Schnapps tried his hardest to cheer me up by bringing me Peter Cottontails and numerous blind mice. However, no matter how many gifts and hugs he gave me, he eventually died of a broken heart from seeing me so sad. I was shattered!
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18
Starting in 2002, I was still doggedly determined, despite my obvious limitations and precarious health, on finding a job. I was unable to understand why I continued with such nonsense but it may have been because I desperately needed to regain social inclusion. I expended a tremendous amount of energy to stay strongly defiant to protect my ego from unknown forces. This protective skill helped me to simply, remain in an inert state of denial since I experienced the weakness in my right leg after getting off the exercise bike in 1988.
During a job interview in downtown Calgary, I was asked a preposterous question by the recruiter. “Where do you see yourself in five years?” I didn’t know how to answer since I couldn’t see myself even in that moment when the question was asked.
I took the remains of Me and managed to get to my Doctor’s office in hopes of finding a safe haven of encouragement and rest but instead was confronted with a blast of reality when my Doctor said, “Katie, you will never be able to work again.”
The culmination of my darkest days caused my bearing walls to suffer no longer from lack of my “selfs”. Self-reliance, self-consciousness, self-assurance, self-determination, self-worth and ultimately, my-self. These deficiencies of building on “SELF” became clear when the explosive devices, that had been laid in and around Me and that I had denied for so many years, to finally trigger and KMG buckled, collapsed into a fine dust, and was quickly blown away by an ill wind. The incomprehensible disillusionment, grief, and loneliness, which led to my collapse, also led me to the final desperate act of attempting suicide thus permanently eliminating any remaining remnants of KMG including the ground where I suffered so defiantly.
I had a psychiatrist appointment at the Peter Lougheed Hospital and my plan was to take all of my Valium and muscle relaxants while there, in the event that if I should pass away, they would be able to harvest my organs. Altruistic, even in death. While in the bathroom before my appointment, I took all of my pills, looked in the mirror and said, “Please forgive me.”
Four days later, I woke up in the ICU, spent a further three days in a psychiatric ward only to be told, “You never really wanted to kill yourself.” With that unconventional sound bite, my physical body was put back into my electric chair and told to go home since I was no longer a threat to myself.
“Myself? Myself, without the dash?! That was a good start but go back home? What could I possibly find there that would be different or new from when I left it a week ago?” While unpacking my plastic white bag of personal possessions, I found a stuffed white bear that had a pink heart on its chest emblazoned with the words:
“Jesus Loves You”.
I embraced that teddy bear and the Message ever so tightly.
The right word at the right time is like apples of gold in settings of silver.
Proverbs 25:11
Jesus was now in the house, despite His name stitched only in pink thread. An entourage of people started coming from the church, across the street and they crossed over my threshold bringing food, companionship, comfort, hope, understanding and the light of God’s words to cut through the darkness that still engulfed me.
The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple.
Psalm 119:130
My social worker set things into motion to find alternative options to my living situation since I was not safe, and I needed more reliable care. She introduced to me the concept of “Group Homes” and the lack of them in the City and I cringed at the thought of living with strangers. I soon needed little convincing after I had to call an ambulance, at 3:00 AM to have the paramedics get me off the floor and into the washroom after an unsuccessful transfer to my chair.
In January 2003, while sitting on that same toilet, my social worker called to say they found a group home and that I had to be physically living there, within the week, to secure the spot. Thank goodness Kathy was standing in front of me because I was then able to lean into her and cry over the loss of having to move out of my beloved home so quickly.
For there is a proper time and procedure for every matter, though a person may be weighed down by misery.
Ecclesiastes 8:6
That night lying in bed with a cat named Flea that my sister had lent me, I gave my life over to Jesus Christ. I told Him that I was sad, desperate, extremely exhausted, disoriented, and without hope. I simply whispered, “I really need your help”.
Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.
Revelation 3: 20
This piece of Scripture was so simple for me to comprehend that it gave me a great sense relief and calm, regardless of my understanding of who Christ was. All I simply needed to do was “open the door” to my heart and allow Him to cross over the threshold with fresh gifts of mercy and solace. I didn’t have to use any fantastical words or prove my worthiness by how much of the Bible I’ve read, or how many times I had attended church on an early Sunday morning. This act of surrendering and being forgiven was a pure and translucent act of grace that I didn’t deserve.
In the weeks to come there was so much to do. I had to put my condo up for sale, pack, move, and organize a garage sale. In spite of all of these daunting tasks, I felt like a bystander while somebody greater than Myself worked everything out for the good.
“Pride Inc.” was liquidated and absorbed by a much larger conglomeration and KMG was put into the loving hands of new architects. However, there was some confusion during the insolvency process where I assumed that accepting Jesus as my Savior that there would be a miraculous improvement to my situation.
The proprietors of this larger conglomeration, being the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, declared that “’Rome was not built in a day” but I soon saw glimmers of hope and subtle transformations when they took my slates, wiped them clean of my transgressions, and started to rewrite the plans they had in mind for me from the beginning.
I was instructed that the “First Phase” of the rejuvenation plan would include these foundational truths:
For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 3:11
Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have passed away. Behold the fresh and new has come!
2 Corinthians 5:17
And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.
Ephesians 2:22
From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.
Ephesians 4:1
For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.
Ephesians 2:10
With Flea on my lap, I moved into my first group home run by a private company. I had high expectations, a sense of relief and a need to rest. But these fervent feelings were quickly dashed only to be replaced by frustration and disbelief at the shoddiness of the situation.
I moved into a cramped 800 ft.² beleaguered house with two other women. One was a 50-year-old smoker, an avid TV watcher, with MS. The other was an ambulatory 40-year-old smoker with marked schizophrenia. There was a large turnover in caregivers and on numerous occasions, no caregivers at all! The heat was turned off in the winter for 24 hours, the basement tenants smoked inside, played loud music, and I was stuck on an outside elevator, for an hour, in -30°C weather.
Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Deuteronomy 31:6
His protection kept me from experiencing physical bodily harm, hypothermia, smoke inhalation, and sheer madness from hearing the downstairs tenants ceaselessly playing “The Picture” by Sheryl Crow. As the warm days of spring grew longer, I confidently left the constraints of that dirty house and it felt liberating to be able to take in a deep contented breath of fresh air and for the first time in years, not hold it in with anxious anticipation of dread.
My vision was no longer stained with tears and the world around me came into focus. I went on long, quiet walks through Nose Hill Park to watch the deer graze in the evening sun, peered deeply into the tranquil, turquoise colored water from the spring runoff, in the Glenmore Reservoir and delighted in the smell of oak wood, the pews were made of, in the sanctuary of Center Street Church.
On Sunday, May 3, 2003, since my wheelchair would not fit into the baptismal tank, I was covered with a clear plastic sheet and was sprinkled with holy water, by Pastor Peter Rempel, at the Harvest Hills Alliance Church. I wanted to make an “outward sign” of declaring Jesus Christ as my Saviour.
You are one body and one spirit, just as God also called you in one hope. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism,and one God and Father of all, who is over all, through all, and in all.
Ephesians 4:4 – 6
A few months later, we moved from our ramshackle hovel into a 3000 ft.² house that was bright with vaulted ceilings, had hardwood floors and I was blessed with the master bedroom! I was ecstatic to be able to unpack all of my boxes and display my trinkets, travel souvenirs, framed prints, books, family photos and put down my rugs once more. I put my teacups, vases and pottery in the china cabinets and the walk-in closet accommodated all my clothes.
The neighborhood was well-established with new malls, restaurants, and paved paths to Fish Creek Park and the River Valley. The paved pathways enabled me to travel great distances and during these long walks, I would ramble on, pray, confess my transgressions, give thanks to the Lord and curse the beavers for chomping down on yet another sapling.
Living in this new environment was an extravagant “breather” making up for the last five years of not having a comfortable and safe home environment. Having 24 hour care enabled me, for example, to savor a cup of coffee after a nutritious lunch, have a quiet afternoon nap, after which I would get up and put on my Sunday best for church that evening, and know when I got home at 9:00 PM there would be someone to put me to bed.
I now lived with five eclectic souls whose ages ranged from a grumpy 65-year-old man with MS to an incorrigible 21-year-old boy with muscular dystrophy. The remaining two were a man and woman, in their 40s, with MS. It was definitely a challenge to remain friendly, show respect and maintain healthy boundaries with complete strangers in such close quarters. I applied lessons learned from shacking up with my first two roommates to yet another interesting state of affairs.
I was finally in a place in time where I could focus on growing in my faith, volunteer and explore more options for vocational growth. I enrolled in an evening course at Momentum to make community contacts and learn how to start a small business. I joined a small group of Christians, for Bible study and fellowship, volunteered with Calgary Reads and read to elementary aged children for six years. I continued to remain heavily involved in the Disabled Sailing Association and was elected Commodore for two years.
In the spring of 2005, the state of affairs in the house gradually started to worsen when the manager and other senior staff members started to leave, only to be replaced by an onslaught of uneducated and belligerent caregivers. These changes resulted in an environment of extreme anxiety, intimidation and indifference. The house fell into disrepair, was filthy and meals became inedible. I brought these concerns to the owner in an attempt to regain the quality of life that we once had. I relentlessly advocating for immediate changes but this only resulted in me being seen as a troublemaker and the reason staff were quitting. The abuse was so innocuous and constant that I lost the use of my right arm because of the stress that permeated the home.
As 2005 was coming to a close so was my patience with not only the owner, but the social worker and the nurse responsible for our medical needs. I started mishandling my strong and relentless self-confidence and self-reliance thus losing my self-control resulting in a lack of interceding prayers for safety, protection, security and solace. In my frustration, I would defiantly and succinctly verbalize that:
“I would rather live in a cardboard box than here!”
In December, I was handed an eviction notice that stated that I had to find other accommodation by the end of January 2006. The owner’s signature may have been at the bottom of the letter but God’s hand writing was all over the page. God listens and He affirmed that my prayers of, “I would rather live in a cardboard box than here”, would be graciously answered. Two months after moving out, the group home was shut down.
The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride in spirit.
Ecclesiastes 7:8
I moved into a seniors’ facility where my “cardboard box” consisted of a twin bed, a bedside table, a sink, barely enough room for my computer, and a high school sized locker for my clothes. I had to plug in my electric toothbrush and put it on top of the light fixture above the head of my bed. Still on the subject of cardboard boxes, I packed myself a “Comfort Box” which was a banker’s box containing my favourite stuffed animal, an embroidered picture my grandmother made, and a picture of my cat amongst other things, but, oddly enough not my Bible.
My Roomie was an 86-year-old woman whose bedtime was 4:00 PM which meant the heavy curtains would be drawn over the large windows extinguishing the precious sunshine I needed to invigorate the Spirit within me. The head of my bed was situated by the washroom that was used by three other residents with very weak bladders. To add disbelief to a poor night’s sleep, I would only be getting one shower a week as opposed to the three I was getting at the group home. I had to wait incessantly to get help because the nursing staff had to tend to 14 other residents before they could respond. What was really upsetting was after a late afternoon nap, I wanted to get up, only to be told that I had to stay in bed due to the shift change, and limited staff. I’ve never been held hostage before, but this restraint made me feel helpless, fearful and ultimately angry.
This is my command —be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.
Joshua 1:9
I desperately needed to settle, strategize and seek out the most encouraging qualities of my temporary living environment that I fervently prayed for. I have to admit I was still on shaky Christian legs and learning to trust in God’s plans and purpose for me. It would probably take a lifetime but nonetheless, upward it must be no matter how slippery the slope.
The facility had a sunny, central courtyard with tropical plants and trees and a choir of exotic birds. This little paradise was exhilarating to the senses and its sunny disposition was contagious. I was tantalized with a variety of well-balanced meals but not fascinated with 10 pounds that I gained! I was blessed to meet a clear minded 92-year-old World War II Veteran named Felix. He regaled me with stories of how he met the Queen, Sir Winston Churchill, and how he captured his first German without discharging his weapon. We talked for hours while he held my hand. I asked him to be my Valentine and we attended a lovely candlelit dinner in the Atrium. If only I had met him 50 years earlier!
Two weeks later, I was asked by the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Alberta, to give a speech to Members of the Legislative Assembly of Alberta about my personal experience of living in a seniors’ facility. I had many years of physical and emotional change and I was able to convey how difficult it is to meet the needs of a young adult in such a facility. In 2006, a DVD was produced and called “These Four Walls” which the Society still uses as a tool to demonstrate how difficult it is for a young, disabled person to live in a facility that is not age appropriate and unable to meet their unique needs.
At the end of February, I still remained hopeful because I was under the impression that I was only going to be at this facility until transition services found me another group home within the community. I was shocked to find out that once I was placed into long-term care, one remained in long-term care.
The only age appropriate facility, in Calgary, was the Dr. Vernon Fanning Center. This 30-year-old Institution has 150 beds for disabled active adults between the ages of 18 and 64 years of age that specifically caters to this demographic group of people. There weren’t enough words in the English American Thesaurus that could describe the disorientation, bewilderment, abhorrence and anger that I felt when I had no choice but to move or stay at the Bethany.
I was confounded with the lack of input I had in the few decisions that were presented to me. I accepted the manifestations that caused my extremities to stop working, but I was unable to accept being shoved into yet another uncompromising environment that was supposed to complement my physical challenges, not make my challenges more challenging!
Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns.
Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down.
Philippians 4:6-7
I was terribly distraught and desperately needed to find refuge within the warm walls of Center Street Church, even though I looked like a drowned rat from not having my hair washed in over a week. Marg McAvoy was the greeter at the door that night and in my moment of profound hopelessness I called upon her to simply give me a hug and a cup of coffee. Sobbing uncontrollably, she reminded me of God’s promises, His amazing plans for my life and reassured me that I was exactly where God needed me to be to fulfill my purpose in life. I blubbered, “I know, I know” and that declaration of understanding gave me enough comfort to draw upon in the days to come.
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
I haphazardly moved into another “box” that was the same size of my last resting place and upon entering my heart filled with gladness when I saw the large closet with three drawers. But, it soon deflated when I saw the bleak blue curtain that separated me from my roommate, also thwarted the bright rays of the sun from entering through the one small window that was on her side. My roommate “Trudy” was a smoker and an avid cartoon watcher. I did not find rest sleeping on a plastic covered mattress under institutionalized sheets; receive orientation from the staff regarding anything about the unit or encouragement from management.
After expressing some very selective, assertive yet kind words to the manager, I moved into a larger, brighter room with a roommate who was less disruptive. I was able to move in my two antique dressers, a desk and my computer. Bright sunshine and fresh air came through a door that opened out onto a small courtyard. Regardless of these few niceties, my wrath would not abate. I felt abandoned by the ‘System” that funded this Facility and staff that obviously needed to revisit the finer points of their job description and to simply put it, care! I would threaten to call my lawyer, confront the Director of the Facility, and on many occasions, tried to call 911!
Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret – it leads only to evil.
Psalm 37:8
During this time of extreme upheaval, the DDD were well organized and quick at pulling my spirit into a miry pit of desolation, void of any light. In the months that followed, this place got me down so much. I would always compare it to being submerged in sludge over my head. It would get into my ears when I would hear other residents screaming in pain, loud TVs and grotesque coughs at meal times. I could not hear peace and quiet. It would get into my nose from the stench of urine and feces from laundry carts outside in the halls. It would get into my eyes when I looked upon broken bodies sitting in wheelchairs so black that their spirits seemed to have been seized by the darkness. It would get into my mouth when my meals were inedible and cold. Through all of these portals, the sludge would prevent my consciousness from comprehending the harshness of the environment I was now forced to live in.
I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire;
Psalm 40:1–2
he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.
Upon seeing this devastating annihilation, the Father sent four wise women from Center Street Church who graciously volunteered their time to provide me with gifts of companionship, spiritual guidance and interceding prayer. In addition, they did laundry, organized my correspondence, accompanied me on shopping trips and one brave soul came every Monday evening to give me an extra shower!
I lived in shared accommodation for four years and had 5 different roommates. After I left the “cartoon watcher” I moved in with “Dirks” who had MS and only watched baseball. Quiet during the day but at night, no matter how many foreign objects I put into my ears her snoring was inexorable. She died of lung cancer.
“Kira” was from Nicaragua 45 years old MS married with four kids. She was heavily involved with the activities in the Facility and I would have the room to myself during the majority of the day. All was extremely quiet at night.
Next up, was “Lori” 50 years old MS married two children worked as a bank teller. She always cried. I did some extensive advocacy on her behalf regarding her care but it was all in vain. After almost three years of sharing accommodation, “Lori” and I fell into a predictable routine and this created an environment of contentment and peace, not only in the room, but within me.
Nevertheless, one morning without warning and still half asleep, management moved “Lori” out and “Hannah” in. She watched “Hannah Montana” relentlessly from 7:30 AM until 10:00 PM, at which time she would turn on her radio.
This sudden change left me rather perturbed and off-balance because I had an intruder in my house that had every right to be there. God commanded us, “to love thy neighbor as you would yourself” and with that, I coalesced some of my Symington Qualities of cleverness, practicality and determination with the fruits of the Spirit and prayed for a solution.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
Galatians 5: 22-23
Taking action rather than interaction would prove to be more viable and I devised a sly plan to buy her a bouquet of flowers and anonymously place them in her room. I was committed to doing so, every month, for long as I lived with her. It was fun listening as she tried desperately to find out, from friends and family, who sent her the flowers. What made me even happier was that a week later, “Hannah” miraculously moved to another room. God is good and love really can move mountains or at least a 100 pound woman in wheelchair.
The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride.
Ecclesiastes 7:8
Finally, “Angie” and her Christian guitar pickin’and hymn singin’ husband, Rick, graced me with their presence and the room soon became still again.
Five months after I moved into the Fanning, I developed a pressure ulcer on my right buttock from sitting too long on an ill-fitting wheelchair cushion. The ulcer, which was the size of a nickel, caused damage and necrosis to the three layers of my skin into the fascia. After it was assessed, I was sentenced to bed for the two months and my only entertainment was TV and my two showers a week. Curses!
The nurse who assessed my wound was Valerie, who ironically was one of the leaders in the “Alpha Course” that I attended in 2001. She explained to me that these types of sores heal very slowly and warned me of the dire circumstances if I refused to stay in bed for the allotted time. These types of wounds can destroy the surrounding tissues very rapidly where the bone becomes exposed which leads to hospitalization and surgery. We prayed together and she comforted me with these words that rang in my ears throughout my “incarceration”:
“This will only be a blip in time.”
Spending these two months in bed forced me to engage in meaningful prayer, persevere and learn to become and remain “still”. I had to take the focus off me, be grateful for the care and patience of the staff and for the greatness of God. Choosing to be thankful in all circumstances was my choice to be made, and with that I was able to transcend and soak up the joy and peace of grace both given and received.
…Not only that, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.
Romans 5:3-4
After two months. I was able to get up for four hours a day and soon was able to tolerate eight hours in the chair. Just in time for an encouraging project to fortify my fortitude, in August, I was asked to represent the Alberta Disabilities Forum, which is a group of Provincial disability organizations, to participate in discussions with the Government of Alberta to create Accommodation Standards for supportive living and long-term care facilities.
I was able to relate my experiences of living in group homes, a seniors’ facility and the Fanning Center to assist the group to better understand the challenges that Albertans have living in such environments. My involvement in the project lasted for six months. In 2008, the Working Group was awarded the Premier’s Gold Award of Excellence for a job well done!
After completing this project, I became more energized and started to initiate projects that would further enhance the quality of life for residents and their families at the Fanning.
Projects included:
- Creating a “Welcoming Binder” that contained valuable information that would assist a new resident and their families to become familiar with the programs, therapies and amenities available to enable a smooth transition.
- Organising a team to repaint and redecorate the computer room.
- Forming and facilitating a Resident Council on the Unit to enable residents to voice their concerns, in a safe and structured forum, regarding personal care, staff, conflict resolution, food services and living environment.
- Instituted an “Overnight Stay Suite” that was a dedicated room that provided residents and their significant other privacy in a homelike environment. With $10,000 in funding. I was able to assemble a team to renovate, purchase furnishings, bedding and decorative accents for the walls. Policies and procedures were created and maintained that would ensure the project would remain successful.
I leaked this sensational story to a Calgary Herald reporter and disability advocate, Michelle Lang, for her to report on when the room was completed. TV reporters also came forward to report this original concept for their medical report segments.
(On a sad note, Michelle was tragically killed by an improvised explosive device on
December 30, 2009, while covering the Afghanistan War for the Canwest News Service)
I soon ran out of things to do after all this frenzied activity was completed. Not having aspecific goal or purpose in mind, I was easily distracted and digressed taking my focus off of God and fretting about my desires, not His. I found it hard to gain traction and momentum going forward in the muck that was created by the spring thaw of 2007.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.
Proverbs 16:27
I became disheartened once again by all my losses, such as traveling, getting married, buying and redecorating a house, and planting a garden would never come to fruition. I found it very difficult to relate to my family and friends when they talked about these unattainable desires.
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.
1 Peter 5:8
On the May long weekend, I remember so clearly, while sucking my coffee through a straw, and enumerating yet again, on all my woes, I was hit by a revelation so hard that I nearly aspirated half a straw of hot coffee and while gasping for breath was still able to angrily reprimand myself for being such a hypocrite. I was so fickle in my trust of God, ignorant and dismissive of all of the hard work that only He could muster up and by not fully understanding that God saw my worth, uniqueness, usefulness, why believe that God exists at all? This self-deprecating analysis of my folly led to a powerful catharsis that made my spirit rise to a height so high that no amount of steroids would be able to achieve.
… but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not be weary; they will walk and not faint.
Isaiah 40:31
I needed to strategically place myself in a posture of empowerment to fully understand His perfect timing in the circumstances happening in that very moment, the present and the past that had to happen, by whatever means necessary, albeit a suicide attempt, an eviction notice or a sore bum. God knows who we are, who we are becoming, and how we got where we are.
You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
Psalm 193:3
I had to extricate and thus be liberated from the taunting, unproductive, and confusing thoughts created by the Devil and his Derelicts, and my own pathetic thinking. I started a journal to publicize my boisterous thoughts that would best articulate daily trends in my emotional and spiritual growth or lack thereof. In addition, I would include prayers and relevant Scripture that would hearten me while I dictated some of my most painful reflections.
I became proactive in creating strategies, for example, to prevent loneliness over long weekends, focus and create healthy boundaries regarding my persistent need to fix things. I praised God for the smallest of blessings, such as having an electric wheelchair, not being in pain and still having the ability to communicate. Putting everything into perspective, gave me a better understanding and, ultimately, an unwavering acceptance of the permanency of my realities.
For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
2 Timothy 1:7
In later years, my writing soon morphed into fantastical short stories, parodies, and ruminations of the human condition. I soon had a unique ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, thus making my musings provocative and unrivaled. My creativity extended beyond thoughts and emotions typed in letters of various fonts and sizes to painting. After reading to the children I would traipse the halls of the elementary school and throughout the years I became increasingly intrigued and inspired by all of the fantastic art the children had created.
I soon discovered that an art class was being offered by recreation therapy, that was once a week, for two hours, had ten residents and an over fraught teacher. This palette of many colors did not mix well and I removed myself from the class, absconded with a rickety easel, and purchased my own painting supplies. After carrying out some research, a sturdy stand for my palate and paints was developed and I invested in a sturdier easel to hold my canvases.
I felt giddy at the insurgence of the endless amount of “blank slates” of creative possibilities afforded to me, decades later. With each artistic endeavor, albeit painting, writing or advocating I was able to refresh and clear my mind and focus on the fullness of the experience.
While immersed in such ventures, I would recognize paradoxical emotions of intimidation to courage, failure to determination and success, constraint and obsession to freedom and abundance. The emotion of the day would be translated through the wooden paintbrush, securely placed between my lips, digested by every stroke, and integrated into my happy medium of acrylic paint.
Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
1 Peter 4:10
With some leftover paint on my palate and without any forethought, I painted a dark winter sky, a mauve Christmas tree sitting beside a snow-covered fence and the Christmas star in the upper right-hand corner. I named it “Midnight Clear”, printed off 25 cards and sent them out to friends and family. The card’s popularity prompted me to paint three more holiday themed Christmas cards that I sold in the subsequent years after launching my business, Oralart.ca, into cyberspace. As a result of my artistic endeavors, I became more well-known in the community and was presented with new opportunities to continue my advocacy with renewed vigor and optimism in the areas of accessible and affordable transportation and housing, among others.
At this point in time, that being the spring of 2017, I will bring my testimony to a close in anticipation of what the next season will bring. I cultivate my faith so I can be sure of what I hoped for and certain of what I do not see. According to His grace, I am like a wise master builder and laid a foundation where I can remain firmly established and at the core maintain authenticity, kindness and attentiveness of the heart, modesty and restraint of the soul, and sound judgment and wisdom of the mind.I absorb not only the words of the Lord but the impact, knowing that the Kingdom of God actually dwells within me!
Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock.
And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock.
Matthew 7: 24 – 25
Project ”KMG” legally expanded to its full Christian name, Katie Martha Gerke thus getting rid of the constricting quotation marks and ambiguous capital letters. Additionally, there was confusion as to whether or not I was affiliated with, “KMG” Gold, “KMG” Chemicals Inc. or the now deceased rapper, “KMG”.
By wisdom a house is built,
And by understanding it is established;
And by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.
Proverbs 24:3-4
