My fiancé
Hi I am a 21 year old female from the New Haven, CT and it's not me who has HIV, I've been dating a guy for three years now, and he is HIV positive. Today we are engaged and I am still happy with him. In the begining of our relationship, I didn't notice anything different about him, he just looked plain normal to me. I always knew that you couldn't tell a person has HIV just by looking at them, but still, I just though nothing of it. it nver crossed my mind. We've always used condoms and after a while, I started to get suspicious. I had no idea why we was using condoms for if we new each other well, and wans't dealing with anyone else. Comes to find out, I didn't know him too well. I always asked him why and I always asked about having a baby, and he always avioded the question, still I didn't know why.
A year passed and he started acting real funny towards me. he was trying to get me to break up with him for stupid things. I guess he didn't really know how to tell me what was really going on with him. I wasn't letting go that easy. After a while, I guess he got tired of hiding it from me, so one day we took a ride to place where we always went to get away, and he told me the reason why he didn't want to have kids was because he was HIV positive. I cried so hard in the car. I didn't even want him to touch me. I was so scared. All I can think about was "Wow, after being with this man for a year, he tells me something like this?" I didn't know what to say to him. I just cried cause then I started thinking that I had it. After I done cried alot, I just looked him in the eye and said "Baby, I'm gonna be right here for you, I'm not leaving you."
I was so scared to get tested, it took me a whole year to do. luckily it came back negative and three years later......we're still together. I love him sooooooo much. Men, Women.... if you are or think you HIV positive, don't be scared to get tested cause it's only right that you know so that you can protect yourself and whoever around you. Don't be afraid to tell your partner, cause whether they want to be with you or not, you're gonna stand strong and still be all that you can be. You are no different from other people and you deserve to be treated with the same love and respect as everyone else.
Lindsay
My name is Lindsay and I'm 19 years old from western New York. I came from a loving family- mother, father, 2 sisters and a dog.My father was a hardworking, heavy set man that smoked cigars and listened to country music and loved his kids. In 1994, my father suddenly fell ill. While at work one day he lost his balance on a ladder and fell. Being, the stubborn, "manly-man" that he prided himself upon, he hesitated to go to the doctor right away. Over the next couple days, he became sicker. It seemed like he had the flu. My mother, getting on his case, scheduled an appointment for him to go to the doctor. Initially, the doctor said he had the pneumonia, drink fluids and rest. Although his flu-like symptoms did go away over the next week or so, he didn't feel any better and began losing a drastic amount of weight. His doctor then ran every blood test known to man. When the results came back, that perfect family shattered. My father was HIV positive. My mother shunned him and began working nights. I suppose that was her way of coping. My father hit one of the lowest points of his life, even becoming suicidal. Ultimately, their 14 year marriage ended in divorce and a bitter custody battle.
He left Easter Sunday. Having 3 young children, at that point we didn't fully understand the situation at hand. My father got his own place, my older sister lived with him and my younger sister and I stayed with my mother, visiting him on weekends and whenever we had time off from school. He started medication, to build his immune system and finally began to smile again. Living with HIV/AIDS is possible. My father proved that. Although he was no longer able to work due to medication and other things. He still did the things he enjoyed. He restored a 1972 tow truck, started up a little business towing cars. He spent time with his kids, fishing, camping, shopping (until then, he hated shopping), attended school events, spent time at his friends garage helping them repair cars, drank plenty of Mountain Dew and still smoked cigars. He was very aware of his mortality but vowed to live life every day like it was his last and make the most of it. And he did just that. He attended meetings/support groups where he was able to talk about life and what it throws at you with people that really understood first hand how he felt. My father, who initially was ashamed of having AIDS, became accepting. He never hid the fact that he did have AIDS. He was always more than willing to discuss it. And to his surprise, most didn't turn their backs. They wanted to know. Generally, people thirst for knowledge. It can save your life.
Even though his spirit couldn't be broken, his health was still an issue. My father got bronchitis. His doctor immediately put him on antibiotics and his symptoms were minimal until he started developing a horrible rash. It was a Friday night, my sisters and I were at his house watching movies, eating popcorn, having fun. He noticed that he was breaking out with a rash. So we start talking about what hes been using; laundry detergent, bar soap, moisturizers etc. Nothing was out of the norm. Sunday morning, he woke up to go to the bathroom in terrible pain. (which was not unusual. He suffered for rheumatoid arthritis also and by morning his pain medication had wore off) He got up, took a couple steps and then looked behind him. As gruesome as this sounds. The bottoms of his feet had basically sloughed off of his body and onto the carpet. Not knowing what else to do, we called 911 while he wrapped his raw feet up. He was brought to the emergency department and treated as a burn patient. Over the next couple days, all his skin had basically fallen off of his body. He didn't look human anymore. Doctors diagnosed him with a severe case of Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, better known as TENS. Ifs a severe allergic reaction, in his case to the antibiotic that he was on. Doctors decided to put him in an induced coma because the pain was intolerable and it would reduce movement until his skin regenerated and healed. My father was a fighter. Over the next month, his skin healed. He regained consciousness. He was then moved to rehabilitation facility. A miracle, some may say. He recovered. Learned how to walk again, talk again- basically learned entirely how to function again in hopes of living a normal life.
Again he was back at it, working on cars, smoking his cigars and back being the best father his body could permit him to be. The only complaint I ever heard from him was "My skins to damn soft. This is not a man's skin." By 2001, Stevens-Johnsons Syndrome was a meir memory, just another obstacle he had overcome. Life became normal again. My father continued taking medications, even volunteering to be a guinea pig and trying new medications not knowing what the effects could be.
I talked to my father on a Friday night. He was telling me about some car he was working on. I don't know much about cars to this day, so I just pretended like I could relate. Saturday at about noon, I got a call from my sister saying that he was back in the hospital and to rush there because it wasn't looking good. Of course I got there going 90mph the whole way. By the time I got there, my father had fallen into a coma. What felt like minutes later, my family and I had a meeting with the doctor. He had pronounced my father brain dead. That was devastating. He gave us the option of taking him off life support or keeping him on it with virtually no chance of recovery. We chose to take him off life support and let him go to God. Most of my family decided to stay and be with him for his last moments. I chose to leave. I refused to see my father at his weakest. He was a strong man- a fighter. And the last moments of my father that I recall are ones of him going against the grain and living his life the way he wanted to live it. On March 30th, 2003 my father passed away.
Although he is not here with me anymore. I carry him around with me. After all, I am my father's child. But I think the biggest thing Ive learned from my life and my father is to never give up hope- and to keep an open mind. Love others regardless and although they may not do the same, you will feel better about yourself. And lastly, be proud of yourself. There is not a type of person that can or cannot get AIDS. Anyone can. And having AIDS is not the end either. It may change the way you live your life, but it will not change who you are.
In loving memory of David A. Kuhn, a loving father.
Jessica
I read your stories online, and as it seems to happen with any mention of AIDS around me, my ears perked up, the TV turned off, the music quieted. I listened (read) intently to the stories of those around me who have been impacted by this disease. I wish I could say that I was not one of them, but this disease has changed my life.
From my very first memories of my mother, she was a homebody. Her yellow fleece robe and warmth from the fireplace were her favorite two things, besides the Cubs of course. I remember singing 'Jose can you see' (my version) every baseball game with her...both of us standing with our hands over our hearts. I remember sitting in curlers every friday while she watched 'the bold and the beautiful' and did my hair. I also remember the always present white boxes with the house logo with an "h" in the middle. Later I would come to see those boxes in a different light. Later I would see that all the energy she needed to play with me came from the medication in those white boxes.
By the time I was five, my mother was seriously ill. I know the taste of hospital food and the feel of hospital pillows very well. She was in and out for years, and I remember giving reports on her health during show-and-tell in kindergarten instead of bragging about my new toys. At the end of my kindergarten year my father sat my brother and I down on the couch and told us that mommy was gone and she wouldn't be coming back. It is the thing I remember most clearly about my childhood. I cry whenever I think of it.
I asked no questions and went on living my life without really knowing what it was that took my mother from me. As I got older and the question was asked of me, I relayed it to my father...wondering what the complete answer was. He would hint at her having an immune defficieny and vaguely tip toe around the subject. But he was always very much against me giving blood during the blood drives at school. I was always very positive about it, still am. I saw it as saving lives...while his memory was of taking them.
About a month after my 18th birthday, my father sat my brother and I down on the couch again for another talk. The second one in 12 years. I knew already this was serious. He said we were now old enough to know the real reason my mother died. I already knew that my mother had had troubles with having a second child. Actually I am not her biological child because of that. After having two ectopic pregnancies and miscarriages, trying in vitro fertilization, and losing most hope....my adopted mother and father became my parents. What I didn't know about this situation was that during a surgery to remove the second fallopian tube from my mother's body, she lost a great amount of blood and needed a transfusion. She was given infected blood and contracted HIV. It wasn't long before she was in terrible health, and only a few short years before she was gone.
Yes, we could have sued the hospitals, but it wouldn't have brought her back. And yes, I do feel somewhat cheated, not knowing this whole time how my own mother died, but I understand why my father did what he did. The 80's were not an understanding decade and he wanted to protect me. But now all I can think about is awareness and how AIDS has developed a 'point the finger' reputation of shame. I want everyone to know that there is more to AIDS and HIV than just unprotected sex, and that awareness is key.
I hope that I will always remember my mother's face, and those Cubs games. I know that she will always live on in my heart.
Jessica, Indiana, USA.
No comments:
Post a Comment