Information Related to ""She'll Never Sing, Write or Play Guitar Again""
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"She'll Never Sing, Write or Play Guitar Again" By Kathleen M. Botka After a traumatic brain injury nearly took her life, the author experienced a long period of rehabilitation, both physical and spiritual. Through this, she found the miracle of walking in His Spirit had given her a new lease on life.
n Oct. 5, 1995, while preparing to travel to keep the biblical Feast of Tabernacles, I sustained a traumatic brain injury. I was already disabled with numerous health issues, but had been encouraged by friends to go to the Feast with them in the Caribbean. As I love to travel and hadn't taken a journey like this in a long while, I disregarded an intense spiritual warning not to go. Staying in the basement guestroom at my friend's home was intended to make it easier to travel to the airport. I was preparing to put the finishing touches to my packing and then go to sleep. We were to leave the next morning.
Moving to take my first step down the stairs, I stepped into a void. That was the last thing I remember before going blind. I tumbled down the stairs, fracturing my skull. Severe bleeding caused me to lose my sight. Both of my friends are doctors, and they immediately rushed to my side. I was at the foot of the stairs in the shape of a pretzel. I had signs of brain death. One pupil was completely dilated and the other was a pinpoint. In a couple of minutes I was in a coma. I had a 4 1/2-hour craniotomy to remove a blood clot the size of a grapefruit. The neurosurgeon didn't expect me to survive the surgery and told my girlfriend to notify my family that I was a dead woman. When I came out of the coma 20 hours later, he was startled. When he released me from the hospital to go to a traumatic brain injury unit in another hospital, he told me that I was one of 5 percent to survive my type of injury. He still expected me to be in a vegetative state at this point. When my girlfriend told him that I was a talented singer/songwriter and guitarist, he answered: "Who?" She said, "That lady right there who you did the surgery on!" He replied, "Oh, that was before the accident. She'll never sing, write or play guitar again." I was in the hospital where I had my surgery for one month. Then I spent one month in intensive rehabilitation in the second hospital and six months in rehab in an extensive recovery hospital. I had a paralyzed left arm, vision problems and paralyzed vocal cords. To put it plainly, my body felt as if it had been hit by a train.
The most profound feeling I had, however, was on a spiritual level. I felt like I was under our Father's microscope. I could no longer hide my disabilities or my sins. I could no longer hide behind a mask of self-confidence. I could no longer hide from the truth. Rehabilitation and restoration About six weeks after my accident, a gentleman approached my bed and asked me if I knew why I was in a hospital. I sheepishly answered no. I was so drugged and so involved in the moment-to-moment of my life that the question hadn't come to mind. When he told me I'd had a brain injury and that I was in a rehab hospital, light flooded my brain. Rehab? "They're not going to want to hear about chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, arthritis, circulatory diseases, etc. -- the things I was suffering before the accident. They're going to make me move!" The thought was terrifying. I thought my life was over. But in fact, our Father had granted me the gift of a restored life on a higher level of experience. A month after my initial intensive rehab, I was sent to a long-term rehab hospital for six months of extended care. A variety of therapies helped retrain my body and brain. Brethren began to visit me on the Sabbath, and we had services in my room. This lifted me greatly.
I was confronted with the reality that although I was going through the most difficult time of my life, there were others in the unit who were in a more dire state. I saw suffering on a level that I had not seen before. It was painful to observe. As I went about my therapies, I found myself crying out in prayer for what I was seeing in others' lives. In order to maintain my sanity in such an environment, I needed to stay in constant prayer for myself and others and to do my utmost to improve my life. Nurses, therapists, doctors and friends kept telling me that I was a miracle. But I was struggling so much that I couldn't grasp the depth of the spectacular blessing I had been granted. Losing Mom and Dad; sharing the gift of life Five months into my hospital stay I lost my mom to cancer. We were very close. Shortly before she died, she asked me to pray for her as I'd never prayed before. I had the eerie sense that she was telling me she was passing. I felt so helpless. I asked our Father to care for her as only He could and placed her in His loving hands.
Two days before leaving the hospital for home I was resting and channel surfing when I came upon some beautiful singing. I was inspired. I shut off the television and prayed, "Oh, Father, can I still write, sing and play the guitar?" I felt His answer was for me to write a prayer. In 10 minutes I'd written one of the loveliest songs I'd written about the Savior. I arrived home June 6, 1996. I struggled to adjust to being on my own again in my old environment while feeling like an alien. I'd been on a journey to a foreign shore and was returning to what should have felt comfortable and welcoming. But now everything seemed so strange. My whole perspective had changed, and now I had to surrender further for the changes that our Creator was yet to bring me.
On Father's Day in 1997, my dad, my brother James, my sister-in-law Diane and I gathered for dinner. Dad had prepared roast leg of lamb, my favorite dish. He asked me to say grace. I read John 15 and then said a prayer. I was able to discuss a sensitive issue with my dad and felt quite close. I was hoping to have a growing, intimate relationship, one that I'd always longed for. That was the last time we were to see each other. He died three months later. When I went with my brother to Dad's apartment to help sort things out, my brother gave me the Bible that was on a table next to Dad's favorite chair. It was the Bible I'd given my parents years before. Tucked into John 15 was the last letter I'd written my dad. This was a witness to me of our Father's love. And now I knew that my dad loved me. Within the past year or so I've reached out to the community and now belong to three organizations and a support group. One organization, "The Turn a Frown Around Foundation," visits the elderly and mentally and physically ill. I'm able through my participation to share my story and serve with the music I've been given. How glorious it is to share the gift of life with others! I'm now attending Sabbath services regularly and getting to know my spiritual family. When we surrender to the Blessed One, He gives so much more in return! "Seek first the kingdom," He tells us, "and all these things shall be added to you" (Matthew 6:33). And so I rejoice in the miracle of walking in His Spirit! Recommended reading So many people have suffered so much. Why? Why does our loving Father allow suffering? The United Church of God has prepared a free biblical brochure on this subject, Copyright 2004 by United Church of God, an International Association All rights reserved. |
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Keywords: rehabilitation restoration
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