Hello, my name is Michelle Rokovitsyn, and I am a First Sergeant in the Israel Defense Forces. I never imagined that I would one day write my story while sitting in a wheelchair, learning how to speak, how to move, and how to live all over again.

On October 7th, 2023, my life changed forever.

The Morning of October 7th: The Day Everything Changed
That morning, I was stationed at Kisufim Base, a military outpost near the Gaza border. We were suddenly woken up by the sound of explosions and heavy gunfire. This wasn’t a drill. It wasn’t a false alarm. It was a full-scale, deadly attack.

My fellow soldiers and I fought back with everything we had, but we were overwhelmed. During the chaos, I was shot seven times and also hit by shrapnel in my head and lungs. At first, I didn’t even feel pain—just shock. As I began to lose consciousness, I remember thinking: “I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

Between Life and Death
I was rescued hours later by a brave commando unit who risked their lives to pull me out of the fire zone. I was rushed to Sheba Medical Center in critical condition. I had no idea what was happening. I was placed in a medically induced coma that lasted more than three months. I remember nothing of that time, but my family told me that doctors were unsure whether I would survive at all.

While I lay unconscious, my body fought for life. I underwent multiple complex surgeries—some to save my life, others to repair the extensive damage. When I finally woke up, I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even cry. I was trapped in my own body.

Waking Up: The True Beginning
When I first opened my eyes, it felt like I had been reborn—but in a body I no longer recognized. I couldn’t move my limbs, not even my fingers. The doctors told me I had suffered quadriplegia, due to damage to my spinal cord. I didn’t fully understand what that meant at first, but the reality hit me hard: I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t even feed myself.

From Coma to Combat: My Daily Battle
That was when the real fight began. I entered an intense and grueling rehabilitation program. Every day was a mountain to climb. My first goal was to lift a finger. Then to move my hand. Then to sit up with support. Every tiny milestone became a personal victory.

I went through daily physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. Each session was painful—physically and emotionally—but I held on to hope. Slowly, I learned to speak again, to breathe without pain, to smile.

A Support System That Kept Me Alive
Throughout this journey, I was not alone. My mother, my family, and especially my fiancé stood by me every step of the way. After I regained consciousness, my fiancé proposed to me—giving me a reason to believe in the future again. My dream now is simple: to be able to stand on my feet on our wedding day.

Why I’m Asking for Your Help
My journey is far from over. The rehabilitation I need is extensive, ongoing, and extremely costly. Intensive physical therapy, assistive mobility devices, neurological treatments, and psychological support—all come with a price.

Some of the therapies I need are not covered by insurance. Some require travel to specialized rehabilitation centers. I’m not asking for pity. I’m asking for help. Help that can make a real, measurable difference in my life. Your donation, no matter how small, brings me one step closer to standing, to walking, and one day—God willing—to dancing.

How Your Support Will Be Used
Your contribution will directly support:

Intensive physical and occupational therapy sessions

Mobility aids and specialized equipment (including electric wheelchairs and standing devices)

Advanced neurological treatments

Psychological counseling and trauma recovery

Travel and accommodation costs for treatment in specialized clinics

Medical supplies and medications not covered by insurance

A Message from My Heart
As I write this, I know I may never be the person I once was. But I also know that I can become someone even stronger—more resilient, more grateful for life.

This is my story. Not just of trauma, but of determination. Not just of injury, but of healing. Not just of loss, but of hope.

I know there are many causes and many people in need, but if you’ve made it this far, thank you—for listening, for caring, and for considering a donation that could help me walk again. Help me stand. Help me reclaim my life.

With all my heart,
Michelle Rokovitsyn