“My name is Natasha Rockwood, 21 years old and I’m a survivor of Tsunami that hit many countries causing my parents’ death along with my brother….” that may be the hardest day in my life and it was already brutal enough to suffer from seeing it happening. But I had to, for it may be the last chance for me to do something for people like me, people who suffer and people who want to fight back. I started recalling my painful past and continued without a single tear in my eyes. “Eric and I were still young when our parents moved in to Sri Lanka. They were the happiest couple I’ve seen in my life and without even a single complaint we came here. My mom was a researcher and she was thrilled to support as the assistant head researcher for the project my dad was conducting. It was named project Ceylon fortress and all I knew was that they had to research about all the fortresses built in Sri Lanka. Anyways Eric and I were attending school here and we had to make new friends so we didn’t go bothering them .
It was hard at the beginning because many were natives and only few students were from Canada, my motherland. My best friend was Achini. She was kind to me and she didn’t care that I can’t speak Sinhala. That was in 2000. And I never knew the bond of friendship we had will be washed off from my life in the years to come. Achini was from Galle and it was quite easy for my parents to let me stay with her during the vacation so that they can start researching on Dutch fortress in Galle. It was 26th December, 2004 and my parents, Eric, I and Achini’s family were off to Matara for it was the day after Christmas. All I could remember is that I saw the sea drawing back and after few minutes there was this huge wave that splashed everywhere. I woke up in the hospital 12 days later. They said I had hit something hard during the Tsunami, causing a severe brain haemorrage and they had to remove my left kidney for it was crushed by the time they found me lying unconscious inside the remaining of a building some 3 km inland from sea. After 2 days from that doctors found out that I can’t move my legs below knees because of my brain damage. I was sent to my Aunt’s house in Canada with my dad’s body and they were unable to find my mom’s and Eric’s. I spent whole two years on a bed thinking what might possibly god think of me to do after all this.
Every single day I had a visit from my therapist and I’m grateful to her for all she did. I was to visit hospital several times a month and on March 12th, 2006 my doctor told me that my body had stopped fighting back. They tried different medications but they didn’t work out. I grew weaker and weaker and it was like my mental agony took over my body. I still couldn’t feel my feet on ground. I felt cold, I felt the hot. But I did not see the difference because they both hurt me.
Sometimes after that I was told the reason for my new condition. They had both good and bad news about it. Good news was that if they continue treating me I have 60% chance of feeling my feet back but even if they do continue, my chance of survival is below 50%. My aunt was my guardian but still I had the choice of making a good decision. In 2008, I came back here in Sri Lanka with my aunt as a special volunteer for Red Cross to help the country. The government had the war going on and we were removed from the war torn areas. It gave me some time to visit the places once I used to love so much. Galle fortress was never the same before but it did not matter to me. I hate the place and I was afraid of the sea. But it did not made any sense why I wanted to come back and see the place I hate the most.
War was a very bad affair. We were appointed to help people no matter what religion they followed. They were hurt. They were in pain just like me. I had to help them so I did. In May, 2009 the war was ended and I was to come to Colombo because my conditions became worse. While I was in Colombo, I thought of all the good things that I did. And it made me feel even better. I heard about a blood donation programme and I wanted to contribute mine but I simply couldn’t. I thought of donating my body parts but that was impossible too. My aunt had to spend everything my parents had for my medications so I couldn’t spare something for donations. It’s like I was left to die with nothing. But that feeling did not hurt me much it used to be.
I came here because my heart said to. I knew I had fewer chances in survival and death was waiting. In a few months time, I’d be gone and still it did not matter to me. My body may be weak but not my mind anymore. I have a good feeling about life. Not that I am afraid to die but that I will live every second I got thinking of people I helped, thinking of people I will help. That’s why I m here. To help you fight back, encourage you because I’m a fighter too. Not to escape death but to escape the fear of it and fear of spending my seconds in vain. HIV did made my body weak but it strengthened me from inside. I was positive about it. My feet were numb, I have only one kidney. I lost my parents and only brother I had. My friends were killed. My doctors said I had only few months. But I’m not grieving anymore. Here I am still fighting and my few months became few years. Because I believe……”
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