School came easy to her: she was a member of the National Honor Society. Volleyball was the love of her life. At 5-foot, 9-inches and 150 pounds, she was a powerful middle hitter. She enjoyed running and staying in shape.
She was a beautiful girl with long legs and a smile that lit up the room when she walked in. She made friends easily and inspired younger girls with her positive attitude. Her friends describe her as hilarious and generous. Her mom describes her as head-strong and passionate.
Kari Westberg was 17 when she died Friday, April 7, 2000, of a subarachnoid brain hemorrhage.
It was the day before her junior prom. More than 700 people attended her funeral. The Algona Bulldog varsity volleyball team retired her number, 13.
Hers was a life cut short.
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He was in Illinois, born with cystic fibrosis, a progressively debilitating disease that causes the body to produce unusually thick, sticky mucus that clogs the lungs. He was very much in love with his wife, Laura, and they had been married more than 11 years. He loved walking and golfing, but in 1997, at the age of 37, he was on supplemental oxygen 24 hours a day, unable to work or do the things he enjoyed. He needed two-hour physical therapy sessions four times a day to clear his lungs.
The treatment was so violent he had six broken ribs in three years.
He had already beaten the odds. When he was born in 1960, the average life span for a patient with cystic fibrosis was less than 15 years.
For two and a half years the focus of Steve Ferkau, his wife and family was keeping him alive and healthy long enough for a double lung transplant.
"Breathing was like having a metal band around my chest that simply didn't allow me to expand my chest and take in air," he explained. "It was especially bad after any exertion - like walking to the bathroom, or down the hall, or - God forbid - up half a flight of stairs. It was as if you could only take small pants of air and your body was screaming for more. Sometimes I'd start to see spots and get dizzier and the panic would set in even more. I'd push my shoulders way up - push myself up with my hands and arms to elongate my chest and lungs to eek a little more volume.
"It's probably what it feels like when a snake wraps around you to asphyxiate you."
His was a life being suffocated.
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On Sunday, Feb. 24, a record 4,000 climbers from 29 states will hike the 94 stories of the John Hancock Center in downtown Chicago, Ill., in the 11th annual Hustle Up the Hancock stair climb benefiting the Respiratory Health Association of Metropolitan Chicago.
Leading the charge is Ferkau and the team of Kari's Klimbers. This year 85 people whose lives have been touched by Westberg and Ferkau make up the team, which has raised more than $150,000 in the five years Ferkau has led the hike.
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The hike is possible for Ferkau because on the day Larry and Lisa Westberg got the worst news any parents could imagine, they honored their daughter's wishes and allowed her organs to be donated.
After four false alarms, Ferkau got the news at 2 p.m. on April 8 that there was a match.
"Every time I got a call, I realized that someone had just passed away. I knew some family was suffering, but they were also reaching out to try to save my life," Ferkau said.
His surgery was scheduled for 10 p.m. that same day.
Surgery was five and a half hours long, and Ferkau was kept unconscious for 12 hours after the surgery.
After nearly 40 years of fighting for every breath, Steve Ferkau woke up the next day with a new appreciation for what most of us take for granted.
The air came freely. The snake was gone.
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Four days later Ferkau and his family celebrated his 40th birthday, passing out cake to everyone who walked past his hospital room.
He continued to beat the odds.
Six days after his surgery he went home. The next day he was walking in the courtyard of his building. Three days later it was a half-mile hike to get coffee at Starbucks.
Ten days out of surgery he was walking better than he had in years. At three weeks post-operative he was riding a bike.
"It's difficult for me to share the joy I feel and reconcile that with the loss Larry and Lisa have suffered," Ferkau said. "They did not just save my life. They gave me a life I've never known."
Ferkau returned to work at the Chicago Stock Exchange 10 weeks after his surgery.
He and his wife began spending more time with their nieces and nephews, the sacrifice made by the anonymous family in Algona in their thoughts daily. In September he wrote a letter to the donor family, stating that because of their gift, he will always think of Iowa in terms of the movie "Field of Dreams."
"Is this heaven?"
"No, this is Iowa."
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It took more than a year for the Westbergs to respond. The grief of losing the 100-kilowatt smile, that unique individual, reworking their family dynamics, was too painful at first.
We think about you often and hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits...We have all been on quite a roller coaster ride this past year and a half, one that seems to never end, yet one that seems to get a little easier with every day. We have read and reread your letter a million times. It has given us great strength to move forward and has eased our pain tremendously.
"Kari would be so grateful he is doing well," said Lisa. "She felt very strongly about organ donation and had let all of us know, which made it very easy for us to donate."
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In June, 2003, Steve and his wife, Laura drove to Iowa to meet Kari's family and some of Kari's close friends. They also met with the woman, Sandy Halsted, who received Kari's heart.
"Meeting all of them was one of the most special times in my life. Hearing stories about Kari and seeing so very many pictures brought her so much closer to my heart," Ferkau said. "The weeks after meeting them felt more emotional because it gave me a better understanding of the depth of their loss."
It inspired Ferkau to share Kari's story. In 2004 the first team of 26 Kari's Klimbers joined Ferkau in climbing the Hancock. Since then the numbers have increased to near 90 and more than $150,000 has been raised in Kari's name for research in lung ailments.
From the beginning friends of Kari's have been part of that group, with this year no different as Bulldog volleyball teammates No. 12 (Katie Omdahl), No. 8 (Wendy Divis), No. 7 (Alex Redenius) and No. 2 (Samara Simonson Trenary) are among those who will climb with Ferkau.
"I know Steve is excited about the volleyball girls joining him," said Lisa. "He likes to meet Kari's friends."
Ferkau wears an Algona Bulldog volleyball T- shirt with Kari's number on it when he participates in athletic events. The graphic of No. 13 set in a volleyball has become his symbol on T-shirts, letters and fundraisers.
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Life has gone on.
Kari's boyfriend is now married with a baby on the way. Her friends have graduated college and are moving on to careers and families of their own. The grief has faded, but not her memory.
For Divis, who is now a teacher, the Hustle Up the Hancock is a way to reconnect with Kari's memory.
"This is something I could see Kari doing," Divis said. "Going on the climb lets me still have Kari be a part of my life."
Divis is looking forward to meeting Ferkau for the first time.
"It's going to be exciting to meet him," she added. "He wants everyone to know that Kari is why he is able to do what he can do. He's a very generous person."
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Ferkau does public speaking about organ donation and carries Kari's picture with him everywhere.
"He's always all about Kari," Lisa added.
"I always want to holler 'Oh my God! Look what I can do!' but I tread lightly with Lisa because I simply cannot stand the idea of hurting her or bringing back her pain," Ferkau said. "Sometimes I think it's not fair that I'm not sharing more of the amazing things in my life with her, but when I sit down to write her a note, missing Kari hurts me too.
"You know what I mean? It's like I want to dance, or run, or sing or score the winning touchdown and scream to the world how wonderful this is and how incredible it feels. Then I think about their loss and I just crumble.
"I know I'm not alive at their expense. I'm alive from their gift and their loss hurts me too. I'll never, ever forget Kari as long as my heart is beating."
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To learn more about Steve Ferkau or more information about Kari's Klimbers and the Hustle Up the Hancock event, visit www.climbingforKari.org. For more information about organ donation visit www.organdonor.gov.
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