This is our second blog from Cristina in Romania which she has written following a visit from UK parliamentarians back in May. You can find her first post and other voices from those affected by TB on the TB Europe Coalition website.
‘Why isn’t my life worth anything to Romanian authorities?’ – Cristina reflects on surviving MDR-TB in Romania
“- Cristina?!!” I can still hear the deep voice of my grandfather.
“-Come here! Do you want to hear a story?”
“-Yes, grandpa! Tell me the one with the mountains and the rivers, the birds and the green pastures, the hills and the planes and the deep blue sea.”
“-There was once this beautiful country called Romania. God had blessed it with tall mountains, and green valleys, wavy hills, and vast planes and oh…yes..the deep blue sea…”
I would close my eyes and imagine all these beauty. A feeling of great happiness warmed my chest. I’d often fall asleep dreaming of tall mountains, great lush planes, courageous kings and warm hearted inhabitants of this magnificent land, protected by my grandpa’s strong hands.
When I would wake up he’ll look at me with his deep blue eyes, all of a sudden very serious: “-You have to love your country, you know! This is your home! This is where your kind live! Great acts of courage were written with blood on this soil.” and he’d make me touch the ground and I’d feel a part of a whole. I’d feel that all these brave people before me were my roots to this land and I’ll be the roots for the ones coming after me.
I was taught to love my country. To think that for better or worst I belong to this land. I’ll protect it and it’ll protect me.
Since I got sick, I don’t know anymore. My country betrayed me. I no longer felt protected. The people I entrusted my vote, that vowed to care for our people no longer considered my life important. Where are the brave kings and knights that once ruled our land? They disappeared into fog, like my grandpa did.
At first I was shocked. No! It can’t be! You can’t just ignore a contagious disease with the potential to kill thousands. Wasn’t it enough that great minds of our world were already forever lost to this horrible disease? Anne and Emily Bronte, Albert Camus, Anton Chekhov, Franz Kafka, Paul Gauguin, Modigliani and the black list goes on, and on.
But it was true. They are ignoring it, consciously putting in danger innocent people.
And then it became obvious. I was all alone in this battle. And the more I read, the more I found out the more disappointed I was.
Not long ago I met this group of English members of Parliament. They made me feel envious…Envious that they care about their people. They made me think. Why isn’t my life worth anything to Romanian authorities? Why aren’t we looking after our people? The “whys” will always keep spinning in my head.
This is the question I’d ask the politicians from all over the world: Why? Why die uselessly?