HIV 2 Years later Video...Checking in!

ME AND MY HIV: TWO YEARS LATER

Two years.  I sit here and write this and I can’t believe how much time has dwindled before my very eyes since the day of my diagnosis.  How much I’ve experienced.  How much I’ve learned.  How much I’ve changed. 

In the relatively short period I’ve gained a worldwide family and support group (while losing some close-minded acquaintances in the interim), blogged about HIV topics, co-hosted radio shows, worked in advocacy for the less fortunate HIV positive and AIDS patients and made a choice to be vocal and a front runner to the world about my HIV status regardless of opinion.

I’ve held six jobs (still working at the sixth), lived in three different states and vacationed less than four days in a row.  I’ve committed to a life of work and activism, showing the HIV negative community that being positive doesn’t mean I belong in a hospital bed.  Rather, I’m a person with goals like everyone else.    

I cried a total of three times in the two years.  The first was in the shower a day after I discovered the news that would forever change my outlook on life.  The second was in the arms of a friend who shared my experience and purposely got me loaded to “let it out.”  The final cry was the evening I was scheduled to drown my bloodstream with antiretroviral medications.  Forever.

When I finished letting it out I brushed off my sorrows and kept going on with my life.

When one is first diagnosed a minute can feel like an eternity.  As time heals the minute’s spirals down to a day, then an hour, and finally returns to a minute.  Life returns to normal on the surface. 

Normal?  A word that I wish I couldn’t associate with a world still clinging to the many prejudices towards men and women living with HIV.  A world that accepts the overpricing of life-saving medications at the expense of a patient’s rent or food.  A world that has placed HIV and AIDS on the backburner simply because it is a “manageable disease.” 

What does that even mean?  These past two years I’ve been in and out of serious debt and forfeiting necessities, trying to maintain my blood work and doctor visits.  My fatigue is constantly bombarding my days.  I thank God when my insomnia is ceased over a six hour nap.  My weight fluctuates like the sun’s rise.

Sure, HIV and all the provisions it accompanies has it negativities.  There are times when I want to throw in the towel and just give up.  And that’s when I tell myself that I’d be letting my HIV win.  (Yes, I’ve characterized my HIV as my own unique strain.  An actual name TBD)  I would be letting a lot of people down in the world, including myself, if I didn’t parade on with a smile for the world that HIV is part of me.

I may not agree with opinions of others regarding social aspects, political aspects and the physiological aspects of HIV.  I may wish that one day the HIV community can reunite- to continue the fight for our brothers and sisters of yesterday.  And I also may wish that the complacency we bestowed on HIV disperses.  I wish a lot of things.  Such is life.

But, when I was out this past weekend swallowing my medications with a two year anniversary cocktail with dear friends of mine and was asked the question, “What would you have done differently?”  My answer wouldn’t be to have never been infected with HIV.  Call me crazy, but what would I have learned?  I would never have met the Christopher I am today.  I wouldn’t have appreciated life- and how much of it I have to live.  

My answer is truly this- “When I got my test results I wish someone would’ve said to my face, ‘Chris you are HIV positive.’”  A computer screen told me.  It was the loneliest moment in my life. 

Here’s to the health of all my infected brothers and sisters out there.  Here’s to the families of the infected and lost.  Here’s to the millions of people worldwide who have lost the battle against AIDS.  Here’s to the thousands of people being denied their treatment and medications.  Here's to the supporting communities out there aiding in the fight against HIV and AIDS.  

Here’s to two more years, and two more after that.  And so on.  Till there’s a CURE.   

IT’S TUESDAY RIGHT? OR IS IT WEDNESDAY?

Being stuck in a rut is like waiting in purgatory, as we mortals understand the idea of purgatory. 

This has been one roller coaster of a year for me.  I started it off by working two jobs to pay off the medical bills while creating a nice cushion of savings for myself for a rainy day.  Finally, I was able to leave one job and take care of health and move ahead.  That was until the government took my savings from me as a result of our system’s inability to manage their own check books and wreaking havoc on the middle class (what’s left of it.)  It was at that point I lost most of my faith in our legislative system until I took a shot at a job in our nation’s capital concerning HIV politics.  It was my hope that I could make a difference.  However, I felt like nothing more than a Muppet striving for my stardom in Hollywood.

I left DC and returned to New York desperate for work and ignoring snarky, “I told ya so,” comments from people jealous that I take a chance on venues rather than just talk about them.  I’m a person that seizes an opportunity not expecting a handout in life.

Then, over the summer I found a job that I thoroughly enjoyed.  My coworkers were a pleasure and my duties were fulfilling.  However, I knew it was too good to be true.  The company ran low on funds and as a temporary employee it was evident that I’d be the first to go, regardless of my ability to do the job well.

So, I’m back in Florida.  The only thing left for me is to finish what I started years ago- going into the much needed health care profession.  Florida isn’t exactly where I planned to be by year’s end (or at all) but, what harm can two years do?  As long as I graduate as planned I will become a Registered Respiratory Therapist.  This of course is if I can receive financial aid and be able to start in January.  Then the idea is to move to Los Angeles and practice there.  I never thought I’d be waiting tables again at a job with no benefits, but here I am.  The positive side is that I have a beautiful view of the Intracoastal Waterway.   If this doesn’t work, what will I do?  Not New York.  Not again.

The lack of stability in my life is deafening.    

My rut is so dreadful and depressing that I don’t even know what day it is today.  Twenty years ago I’d be counting down the days to my happy Christmases.  Now, Christmas is painfully approaching and I could really care less about the holiday.  I won’t have a tree, I won’t be buying gifts, I won’t be watching the specials on television.  I wish it would pass at lightning speed.

2012 would be a blessing, right?  I can try again in a new life knowing what I know, now.  This time I’ll be a doctor, like I should have been.

Ending Scene to ANGELS IN AMERICA...beautiful!

Dear God, How’ve you been?

Dear God,

How’ve you been?  I must iterate my apologies for not writing to you sooner.  However, due to the constant upheavals in my life (of which I hold you largely responsible) you must understand my reasons for not getting back to you sooner.  But, don’t worry, all is forgiven, darling.  It would be in terrible Christian manners for me not to forgive, don’t you agree?

Well, I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with everything that’s been happening from my end.  I must say it wouldn’t have killed you to check in with me from time to time.  As the universe creator and the all knowing ambassador of life, your advice on matters that sought a second look would’ve been encouraged.  For instance, where were you when I was eight years old and my grandmother passed away?  While you were transitioning her into new accommodations (which by the way better be first class considering she deserves it) my entire family tree fell apart.  In the while, the adults of the world thought it was okay to pick on me, the quiet kid, by saying how bad I was at everything.  Perhaps it was the quiet side of me that made me inept to sports and scholastics, allotting my free time to do, ya know, nothing. It’s not like I asked for anything, yet I was still labeled a spoiled brat.  Is it because the one thing I ever asked for was a swing and never got it?  Should I have made a fuss do you think?  I must say your absence taught me to live alone in a bubble from an early age.  I was comforted by shutting everyone out and changing my excessive smiles to pursed lips.  Can you believe that is still the same attitude I have with most people these days?  That point made me chuckle for a moment and I almost spilled my Perfect Manhattan that I’m drinking as I write this.  But, like I said, all is forgiven. 

Anyways, where was I?  Oh yes, your abandonment.  Sorry to sound like your mother, I’m sure.  I thought my childhood and adolescent years would be the worst of it all.  Well, was I wrong!  Maybe I’ll let you be the judge.

Darling, did you hear I became a homosexual?  Or, as the less educated population calls it, “a faggot?”  Boy, what an experience it’s been!  Thank goodness you approve and love homosexuals because people here sure don’t, especially the people who think they know how to interpret the Bible.  Can you believe they won’t let us marry?  What terrible manners.  I bet you didn’t see that coming when you created HIV.  Did you think when the first reported cases that were directed towards gay men that the world as we know it would sympathize?  Which reminds me, give my best to the millions of men and women who are no longer here because of HIV, including my Uncle George.

I shouldn’t be so dramatic about everything because I did let HIV in my bubble.  No doubt you heard that we’re involved?  I bet you heard the news through the grapevine that I’m with HIV?  Don’t worry; nothing to get bent out of shape over.  HIV and I grew a lasting relationship over the past year and a half:  I know where to find him if I need him and he leaves me alone, for now.  We check in with each other about every three or so months, which is more than I can say of you, but I digress.  Meanwhile, most of the homosexual community won’t talk to me because I’m with HIV.  Whodathunkit? 

Thank goodness you couldn’t be here in the days I hated being gay in a world that hates me for being gay.  I had a fabulous time with the gentleman (which one it was strikes my memory at the moment) that inserted his tainted sperm in me.  If not for him I would have never met HIV.  It’s dashing, really.  He opened up my circle of friends.  In fact, I see my best friends, Atripla and Isentress at least twice a day, now.  They have quite expensive tastes and eat me out of house and home, but I don't have the heart to say no to them.  They send their love and gratitude for introducing us. 

Sometimes I wonder if you hate me, but I’m just talking crazy. Right?  I’d say “LOL” to you, but it would appear you’ve been missing from the world for so long that you’d have no idea what that means?  Oh, you old fogy!  Or should I assume that you possibly have kept up with the times after all and just abandoned me? 

But, let me be serious for a moment and confess something to you, darling.  I do have regrets and abandonment issues of my own.  Since I’ve met HIV I’ve recently abandoned all the selfless men and women fighting to stop the spread of HIV.  Yes, HIV is cheating on me with millions of people out there, but I let it happen.  I, too, have been so focused on me that I forgot how important each and every one of them is to me.  I just hope they know.  Any advice for me considering you’re well versed in abandoning those in need? 

Well I should wrap this rampant letter up, darling.  I could only imagine all the other depressed and lonely people you need to attend to (or ignore) these days.  I’d end with saying, “looking forward to your reply letter,” but I know how terribly busy you are being God and all.  So until next time we coerce I’ll be holding down the fort on this cruel and unforgiving world you tossed me on.

Hugs and kisses,

Christopher