two twenty eight

the journal of a positive person

Archive for the ‘Being Scared’ Category

Taking The Future (with the Present)

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As things stand now, I’m pretty healthy.  I’ve finished taking all my medications, now I’m down to my single pill a day (well, I take another one for preventing pneumonia & I take a daily multi-vitamin), but it’s just once a day that I have to think about – taking pills.

And the pneumonia pill should go away once my CD4 count goes up a meager 66 points.  

Besides that, I feel asymptomatic.  I have a cold sore, no big deal (just kind of gross and annoying).  My throat feels – great.  My tongue – red and pink and wonderful.  My teeth, never felt cleaner.  Friends I haven’t seen in a while come up to me and tell me how fit I look.  Not trim.  But fit.  

The gym is working out.  

My side effects have practically dissipated.  I do have to follow the rules: no food after 9, pill at 11.  I try to make that a habit.  It’s not a hard one to follow.  It’s now a part of my life.  

This weekend, I was creative again.  I shot some footage, I made myself feel – normal.  Things are falling into normalcy.  Last night, I was faced with the future.  S is contemplating his future.  And the risk he puts himself in by being with me.  

By being intimate.  

We always play safe.  And we don’t even go near things that even remotely sound – unsafe.  We don’t kiss, intimately.  And definitely nothing further than that.  We’ve enjoyed our time – but the tension grows between us to further it…

I love my boy.  My friend.  And my partner.  I want nothing but happiness for him.  But I feel that maybe, we’re looking too far into the future.  Does a relationship like this really sustain itself?  He is a few years younger than me and feels like he wants to cherish his health, his youth.  

He doesn’t want to feel like his putting himself at risk.

Even though, the ways we play and will continue to play will, in my opinion, be safer than driving your car.  “I have to drive my car…” he says.  You’re right.  Risk is a strange thing.  You’re more likely to die in your car than a plane.  

But aren’t more people afraid to fly than drive?

How do you change a perspective from fear to logic?  And, as we discussed last night, is it even a bad thing?  Is it really that big a deal that people are scared to fly?  Or scared of a spider bite?  Or dying of AIDS?  Isn’t it our nature to fear things.

Even with knowledge.  

He knows he could get into an accident.  Break bones.  Paralyze himself.  He knows there is a rare, 1 in millions chance, that he could contract HIV through french kissing.  But to this day, we drive but don’t kiss. And there’s nothing I can do but be patient and grateful.  Eternally grateful that I have a caring, wonderful, beautiful human to call on.  To hold onto.  To call my friend.  My partner.

Intimacy comes in waves.  And now, I play in the shallow waters.  The waves don’t go to high.  A sprinkle.  A dash.  We may float out into the sea but that’s not something I really have to worry about now.  For now, the fresh water against my knees is wonderful.

And I believe things are ever changing.


Written by twotwentyeight

April 14, 2008 at 11:51 am

Posted in Being Scared, Relationship

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i am thirteen again

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The world is reversing. Today, I woke up. I was wet. I wet the bed. I was thirteen again. S woke up next to me. Supportive. Beautiful. I cried. “What the fuck is going on?” My body is reacting – stressed. Unhealthy. I used to be so proud of my body. My body was such a temple. I treated it with such disrespect. Such candor. As if – yeah, whatever, it’ll always be there.

And now, it feels sick. My machine. My little wonderful heart and lungs. My skin. My organs. I shook when I heard those numbers. Those awful, terrible and horrible creatures of 6. So many fucking zeros. I sneezed and blood came out. My allergies were acting up. At least what I think was allergies. The dry air of Los Angeles, caused my bloody nose and when I started to cry, heavy crying – it sort of loosened that blood.

Freaking me out.

The apocalypse. Things are sometimes holy fuck frightening. After cleaning up. S gave me a haircut. We went out to a private brunch. We went to Six Flags and things felt better. The universe is flipping. And I’m not sure I’m oriented anyway that makes sense.

I’m just grateful for S. The strength in my current madness.

Written by twotwentyeight

March 23, 2008 at 10:56 pm

he’s back

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S got back last night.  We spent the night together.  At first it was nice.  Warm.  Inviting.  Things weren’t too bad.  Of course, weird.  Strange.  Uncomfortable.  But at least – working forward.  And then, we fell asleep.  At least, he did.  I stayed awake.  Almost most of the night.  And then every once in a while, he woke up.  He told me, “I had bad dreams.”

We held each other in the beginning of the night and by morning, it was as if we shouldn’t touch each other.  Fear crept in bed that night.  Something, I’m afraid of.  Can I blame him?  This was my mistake.  My fault for getting it.  There’s no reason for me to ask him to take this journey with him.  He seems to be OK with it.  But there’s this sinking feeling in my gut.  That the truth.  The thoughts behind his eyes are stronger, deeper and more disconcerting than I’d like.

And that we’re going to fail.

I don’t want to rush anything.  I can’t make any rash decisions but there is a fear growing.  And it’s silent.  And uneven.  Here and there.  Today, I did nothing.  I slept on the couch, listening to the news.  I waited for S to be finished.  A big and fun and wonderful dinner that I had plans for was canceled.  Results of my lab tests didn’t come in.   And now I’m waiting for S to call.  I assume he’s just hanging out.  Visiting with friends.

And my insecurities tell me that he’s avoiding hanging out.  There’s fear inside him.  And not having to hang out.  Not being around me, doesn’t remind him that I’m sick inside.

This makes me incredibly and horribly sad. There’s nothing I can do – because there’s no evidence that I’m right.  I’m just being paranoid.  I’m allowing fear to tear us apart.  And frankly, this could only be my burden.  I’m not sure.

And that scares me.

Written by twotwentyeight

March 19, 2008 at 6:47 pm

calling the hotline

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My dad is in the hospital.

He had ear surgery and now, he’s back with complications. Everything seems fine but he’s dealing with pain and stress and the last thing he needs to hear now is that his gay son has contracted HIV. It’s just not appropriate timing. Usually, when I’m feeling sick or something’s wrong, I tell my father. He’s a nurse and has an unusual knack for health and medication.

Which is sad to see him in the hospital.

Last night, I started to freak out. I looked at my tongue and saw that it was white. The back of my throat is sort of red and has been sore for some time. I didn’t think anything of it before. I just imagined it would go away on its own. I didn’t have health insurance before about a week ago and never went to the doctor. I imagined, I could have solved it some time ago, but never did – and so it’s just taking longer to go away.

Now, I’m freaked out.

Now, it’s because I have HIV. This means I’m symptomatic. My immune system is down. I’m stage III. I’m also dying quicker.

I start dialing for late night hotlines. I want to go to the hospital right now. I could be dead by morning. I don’t believe that. I’m alone in my house. It’s cold. My throat suddenly hurts more. I can’t even talk. I’m going to die soon. This is going to be miserable. Everytime my body aches, it’s death knocking at me.

I’ve been eating vegan for a few years now – has that been good or bad for me? Have I depleted my immune system with the lack of B12 in my diet? Fuck, I just wanted to be animal friendly. Should I start eating meat again?

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

I call the national AIDS healthline. I am frightened because I’m dialing an AIDS hotline. AIDS. Death. They redirect me to the CDC Info line. I have to sit through press 1, press 2, press 3, press 4. I press 1. The person I get can’t help me.

They have to give me another number.

That number is wrong. Or disconnected. It’s for a rug company. I call back. I press 1. I’m freaking out. I’ve got THRUSH. I’ve got a white tongue. I’m going to have liver failure if I don’t solve this. How long haven’t I noticed my tongue? Did I kiss S with this tongue? Could I have given it to him?


They give me a few more numbers to call. I dial the first one. And on its first ring, a woman picks up. “Nightline.”

“Is this for – HIV?”

“Yes. How can I help you?”

And I begin to talk with her, my phone at 20% battery. She doesn’t seem to fully understand, I’ve only been preliminarily diagnosed. I only got this stupid rapid – swipe and swipe that told me 30 minutes later, I’m going to die. I don’t know my viral load. My T-Cell count or whatever it is.

I haven’t been – confirmed.

I have to wait until Thursday to know for certain and only now, I have to sit in my apartment. Saturday Night. Alone. Wondering if every day I wait, will be another day I can scratch off my life.

I feel so dramatic now. So, silly. Talking to someone feels a little better. I suddenly feel more logical. Of course, I’m not going to die. I can’t go into the emergency room because my tongue is white. There are people there that really need help. I’m just being – dramatic.

I breathe a bit.

She isn’t informative. Or helpful. She can’t solve my problems. She can’t answer my questions but she’s like a grandmother. An ear to listen. And that’s all I needed.

K called me. I went to stay at her place. It seemed warmer there. Normal. I played Sims 2 and started to walk around and “meet people” – I decided I wanted his ambition to be popularity.

There’s one Sim who didn’t like my Todd Adams (as me and K called him). He just didn’t like him. I tried to talk to him. Impress him. Tell him a joke. I even tried my ever popular “puppet sock.” All of it seemed to bore him. He’s now my enemy – something my Sim finds to be a – fear.

It bothered me that he wouldn’t like me. I know its just a stupid game with stupid algorithms and artificial intelligence, but fuck man – why won’t this fucking SIM like me?

Why is my Dad in the hospital when I WANT attention? When I NEED HELP? Why the fuck is S stuck in Alaska where I can’t talk to him for two weeks? Why am I so fucking alone right now?

Even though everyone around me is amazing. Even though K is fucking amazing. Even though S has been so goddamn amazing. And supportive. And wonderful. And just beautiful.

He told me, “this is our burden.”

I don’t believe him but fuck do I want to share this with someone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to feel that when I get a sore throat I’m going to die.

I can’t go to the doctor’s alone.

I’m glad there was that hotline. I’m glad I was able to talk to that lady who said that a white tongue, could just mean I’m stressed out. That there’s an infection in me. It doesn’t mean Thrush. I doesn’t mean anything. Just go to the doctor’s on Monday. You’ll be OK.

She may be wrong but I felt it was OK to listen to her.

It was OK. And I’m OK.

My phone died. (but I’m alright).

Written by twotwentyeight

March 2, 2008 at 11:17 am

Posted in Being Scared

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