The Lazarus Tree

For nearly a century a great catalpa tree stood over Stanley Park’s seawall next to the Vancouver Rowing Club.

Because of its unique shape and golden leaves, it boldly stood out against the horizon, so that when I was in my scull on the far side of Coal Harbour, it was my marker, showing me where to head back towards shelter and safety, in storms and in the waning light.

A great wind struck the park two Decembers ago, and among the thousand trees that were leveled was the catalpa tree.

The horizon was suddenly bleak and empty without it. After so many years its loss was a very real blow to me.

Not long afterward, the Parks Board lifted the uprooted tree, clipped off the severed boughs and laid it on its side not far from where it stood. A sad monument to the power of nature and a testament to how life can change so brutally in an instant.

Months passed.

Finally one day something miraculous happened. New green shoots, then stems and leaves began to burst up through the boughs and limbs.

Despite having no visible connection to the earth and nourishment, the tree was somehow coming back to life. The indomitable force of life was demonstrating its tenacity and power.

And I was struck how similar this event was to my own story.

After fighting HIV for 25 years, the virus became resistant to all drugs available and I began to fail. Two new drugs that were proving to be very successful overseas in clinical trials were my only chance to live.

My applications to my government to gain access to the drugs on compassionate grounds were rejected, repeatedly, for ten months.

Finally, weakened, I went to the media to describe my situation, and the story immediately drew national attention and eventually became an issue in the federal election that had just been announced.

The groundswell of support from my countrymen was fierce, and before too long the government was embarrassed enough to release the drugs to me.

Within five days my viral load dropped 90%. And within two months it became undetectable, a situation that I happily still find myself in.

My life was restored to me. I had miraculously managed to rise from the grave to embrace life with strength and conviction.

Not at all unlike my fallen catalpa tree, which I now refer to as The Lazarus Tree.

© Tiko Kerr