Martin Berkofsky

God works in grand ways, even if, many times, we do not at first understand how He is guiding us. We may believe that we have been made to suffer a great misfortune or a great injustice, when, later, in the light of truth, we understand that the accident, the disease, or even the slight, the insult, the wrong which we greeted at first with bitterness, disdain, and opposition, were all gifts specifically designed to teach us how better to fulfill and celebrate the life He has given to all of us whom He has created.

Yes, I have had cancer, and I have had a remarkable cure at Cancer Treatment Centers of America (CTCA) in Tulsa. I shall come back to this essential part of the story in due course; it is vital.

I am a concert pianist. For many years I actively pursued ("pursued" is a kind word-let's say "hustled" as a more honest definition-there was no concert manager, symphony manager, recording executive, orchestra manager, etc., who was safe from me,) a performing career. I had some good success from my efforts: already in my 20s and early 30s, I was recording with both the London and Berlin Symphony Orchestras, but now I would love to hit the delete key on those recordings  they were professional: technically good, loud and soft, fast and slow, but without real vision. The spaces between the notes weren't right.

God realized that something had to change, that it had to change drastically if my music were ever to serve Him. And He gave me a great gift.

Early November 1982, while riding my motorcycle to my Reykjavik (Iceland) home, I collided with a car whose driver, not having looked first, drove into the road directly in front of me. I was in the hospital for some four months with multiple broken bones and injuries. My right arm was broken in eight places, and the doctors were saying I would never play the piano again.

Already the idea was coming to me: when I healed (I never gave up or said "if,"), I would stop this life of hustling and devote my concerts and recordings to benefit charities and good causes. I stayed up late every night inventing all manner of exercises for my arm.

On Christmas Day of that year,1982, my wife was with me in the hospital room. It was later in the afternoon and the Nordic sun had long since set. I looked up at my wife. She suddenly shook, as though something had come into her. A few seconds later that same something jumped into me. It was some kind of power-vibration-energy-warmth-and it first traveled through the broken places in my right leg, then jumped to my right arm, traveling from the upper arm, through all of the broken places, then out from the fingers.

I understood that this was not a dream and that I was not imagining it; that I had not taken leave of my senses. It was very real; I understood completely that I would be well and healed, that I would play again, that God was giving me another chance if I would use my gift wisely. I had a long talk the next day with the hospital's pastor, who agreed with me that this was a spiritual healing beyond doctors.

Another month later, the casts came off: I sat at an old hospital piano. Save for the calluses which I did not have any more, I played the most complicated pieces of Liszt as though I'd never lost a day of practice.

In the year 2000, I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. My father had died from the mistreatment of his own prostate cancer. I was determined not to go down his path and sought many opinions and options, though always frustrated by the finger-wagging "experts" who demanded that it was their way or no way at all. Finally, by lucky chance, I found about Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Tulsa. My options were kindly and patiently explained to me; I was given a choice and treated like a human being, not a medical condition.

Of course, I chose to have my treatment there in Tulsa; brachytherapy followed by external-beam radiation. There was counseling for proper nutrition and someone always there to address every question and concern I had. I was allowed to bring my mother with me so she would not have to be alone for a month. I learned truly how people could care for each other and slowly began to realize that in this learning, God had given me yet another gift. I have been cancer-free for three years.

In gratefulness to CTCA, their kindness and help, and in the recognition that the caring experienced there should be the standard by which all people everywhere should care for each other, I decided to take a short run on my 60th birthday-some 880 miles: a marathon-concert tour-run from CTCA Tulsa to CTCA Zion, to raise funds for the Cancer Treatment Research Foundation. While in the preparation period for the run, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. The doctors traced symptoms of the disease back years ago to my early twenties. But now, my legs had become numb from the knees down. Of course, I was advised to step down, to not do the run. It was a tough test of my faith. I had to believe that if God meant for me to complete this run, then He would allow me to finish it successfully. I found the medication and the insurance to cover its cost.

I would not give up. I was grateful for this new diagnosis, for I was allowed to understand the plight of others who could not walk even while I was allowed to continue to run.

During the four and one-half months on the road, nearly two dozen families from the Home School Network hosted me. Remarkable families who lived according to the strongest concepts of their faith and principles. Again, a very great gift to me to meet these people.

The run finished. I had even been allowed to set a new personal record: 27.9 miles in one day. God had been good. But then shortly after returning home, I was told that a dear friend in Iceland had just passed away after her year-long battle with ovarian cancer. I flew quickly to Reykjavik to be with the family and to play Liszt's Pater Noster for the funeral. At least she had had so many of the nutritional and inspirational books I had sent her from Tulsa during that year, nothing of that kind was available there. Her husband was even planning to translate one of the books into Icelandic.

I returned home, finally starting to unpack my suitcases. My sister suddenly was taken by helicopter to the hospital; she had gone into a coma. It was discovered that she had a diseased heart valve and would have to be operated on immediately. The insurance for my multiple sclerosis medication suddenly ran out; I would have to be without the medication for weeks or even longer.

Would my sister pull through? Would I wake up blind, paralyzed, or worse? My faith would be put to the test. I had to trust God.

Today I learned that my sister had sufficiently started her recovery, so she could be moved from the hospital to a nursing home for restorative therapy. And somehow nothing happened to me. I continued to walk, talk, and to record and perform, though I did not behave at all admirably during this time. I know that God will also have a remedy for this and that I will welcome it.

This has been a lengthy saga; one that will still unfold more before me. But long ago, I learned that God has a great plan for us, we only need to follow it. What seems like a disaster is only part of God's plan for teaching us. We need only to listen to and to love Him.

Martin Berkofsky
crisfund@yahoo.com

• Email This Page to a Friend
• Print this Page