Marietta, Geogria

Positive since 2014

2014 was one of the hardest years of my life. Where do I begin with this journey? Well, let’s start in 2011 with when I met “him.” I was 25 years young, a recent college grad, and employed. Life was pretty good, but I still felt incomplete with my love life and gay dating.

If anyone knows anything about the new age of gay dating, it’s nothing to write home about. With numerous site and apps, people can hookup within minutes. I live in a small college town with two major universities and one community college. While I was in undergrad, it was not really hard to find a date or hookup, but since transitioning from college to the real world, the internet seem like a reasonable option. I met “him” online.

It was a Saturday night. We exchanged pictures, and I was immediately interested. He did not have a car, so we planned to meet up at the parking lot of Walgreens. I drove up and saw, him the guy who would forever change my life. He was 5’11, 150 pounds, brown, or as he would like to call himself, “pecan tan.” A handsome guy stood before me. He jumped in my car and we went to my house.

We sat and spoke for four and a half hours before we had the most amazing, mind-blowing sex, and he feel asleep in my arms. I felt like I had known him my whole life. It felt good. It felt natural. The sex was so good I called out sick at work just to recuperate from the night before. We started to hang out more and more, almost every day. After a year he got evicted from his apartment, and he moved in with me. We lived together from 2011 until August 2014.

          

The writing was on the wall, but I chose to ignore it. The first night we slept together, I woke up soaking wet from his night sweat. He told me that it was something that normally happens to him, and it was natural. Sometimes, for no reason, he would start crying or be in deeply depressed moods, or he would get really sick and wouldn’t let me be around him. He also would get drunk, “like a sailor” would be an understatement, to the point that he passed out. He told me he had an ulcer that caused all these health issues, but no: He was HIV positive and in denial.

I got tested in spring of 2011 and was negative before I met him. I was not with anyone else for a while before him. Now, looking back, I was probably infected in 2012. I remember I started to have night sweats, high fevers and flu-like symptoms, but at that time I was in love, or lust, so I dismissed them. I always thought that people with HIV would be easily identifiable. However, that is not true; I looked and felt normal for a long time. I was 5’11, 185 pounds and reasonably healthy.

Since we lived together, there was no need for us to use protection during our sexual escapades. We had threesomes, sex parties, and I did whatever I had to keep him satisfied. As he would say, I was a freak and he loved it. I loved him and I knew he loved me. We even got a dog together and we became a family.

          

As the virus progressed, I became sicker. I was so tired all the time. I would come home from work at 5 p.m., sleep until 7 a.m. the next day, and still be tired when I got up. I told myself I needed a break. Everything at home was good. My dog was good and my boyfriend was good, but I just needed a break. So I took a week’s vacation at my mom’s house, about five hours away.

The day I left, he did not want me to leave and he was so sad. I did not know that would be the last time I would see him.

When I reached my mom’s house, I was extremely tired, so I went straight to bed. My mom, who is a nurse, came home and checked on me. She said I didn’t look too good, and I knew I did not feel good. My stomach hurt, and it got worse and worse until I ended up in the hospital two days later. My appendix had ruptured, and I had to have surgery to remove it.

I was in the hospital for several weeks. While I was there, I called him to let him know what was going on. After a week, I stop hearing from him. I called and texted—no reply. After I was discharged from the hospital, my landlord called to ask why I had moved out of the apartment without any prior notice. I was shocked because I was not even in town, and I just had surgery. I called and texted—still no reply. Finally, his number was disconnected.

I was worried. We did not have any friends in common, so I had no one to check on him for me. My apartment was empty. I had a tube draining the reminding fluid from my small intestine. It was a pretty miserable time. I could not walk without assistance. I was in extreme pain. I could not sleep for several nights, and most of all, I was heartbroken. I missed him and my dog.

I went into a deep depression. My job would not extend my short-term disability and I was in no shape to travel back home. A month went by, and I became the “walking dead.” I lost 30 pounds, lost my appetite, I lost the will to live, and I slept the majority of the day.

In October 2014, my mother insisted that I get tested, and I refused. I was so upset at her to imply that I could have any type of disease just because I’m gay, and HIV is a part of the gay lifestyle. Arrogantly, I agreed to the testing, thinking I was negative. It was October 10, 2014 and when the results were in, I told my mom, “Hey, it’s time to get your confirmation that I’m OK and HIV negative.” We went to the doctor’s office, where the doctor spoke the words that would never leave my head, words you would never want to hear in front of your mother: “Sir, you are HIV positive.”

My mother threw herself onto the floor, crying and asking God why. Meanwhile, I was in complete and utter shock. I had lost everything. I wanted to kill myself and get life over with. At this time I had no job, income or insurance. Since I did not have any insurance, it would cost me $200 per lab. I was scared. I knew I did not have any money and did not know how I was going to get help.

My mother told all my aunts and uncle, who became my support system. My uncle found some resources for me through Ryan White. He took me to the clinic, which was not able to get me a lab appointment for a few months, until I disclosed some of my symptoms: I had thrush on my tongue and psoriasis on my lower back, which was really painful, and they knew that my HIV had progress to AIDS.

In November 2014, a Ryan White Clinic did my first sets of labs and I learned that I only had 12 T-cells. If you’re not really familiar with HIV, once your T-cells drop below 200, you’re diagnosed with AIDS. During this time, I became very sick with a fever that jumped from 99.1 to 106.2 degrees. I went back to the hospital and was release a few days later. The following Sunday, before I started treatment, I was admitted into the hospital once more for having a seizure and pneumonia. Finally, after being released, I was put on Striblid by the Ryan White clinic on a 90-day voucher. I’m no spokesperson for Striblid, but it saved my life. I would have probably died without it.

Since I’ve been on Striblid, my T-cells have increased and viral load has reminded undetectable with less than 25 copies of virus in my blood. I could go on and on about how life has become extremely difficult to readjust and rebuild, but I’m happy I’m alive, and I’m taking it one day at a time. Sometimes I cry when I remember that my ignorance of my status almost killed me.

Yes, I am alive and HIV positive, living with AIDS, but I’m still here. To anyone who reads this, if you’re not HIV positive, please get tested regularly and always use protection.

What adjectives best describe you?

Hardworking, dedicated, smart

What is your greatest achievement?

Getting my master’s degree

What is your greatest regret?

Too many to list


What keeps you up at night?

Dying alone

If you could change one thing about living with HIV, what would it be?

The fear of dying

What is the best advice you ever received?

Take your medication.

What person in the HIV/AIDS community do you most admire?

My peer adviser

What drives you to do what you do?

Clothing and food drives

What is your motto?

Never give up.

If you had to evacuate your house immediately, what is the one thing you would grab on the way out?

My Striblid

If you could be any animal, what would you be? And why?

A bird so I can fly away