two twenty eight

the journal of a positive person

Posts Tagged ‘HIV


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Yesterday, I got a refill on my prescription.  And I got blood drawn.  It’s already been two months of pill popping.  Two whole months of strange and unforseen future.  I’ve been busy.  And worn out.  I’ve felt incredibly healthy and down right miserable.  When I lost my partner, I broke down.  I literally fell out of the shower and cried like a monster.  I cried out into my blanket.  Naked on the cold, hotel bathroom.  I wanted to be home.  I wanted to be in my own bed.  Alone.

Instead, I just had to pretend everything was OK.  After getting back, we worked things out.  I’m in a hesitation now.  I’m in a “no risk” relationship.  Hopefully this will last.  A lot of my friends now, know.  They’ve read this blog (on my own accord) and now, I feel a bit less lonely.  Letting people in, feels good sometimes.  

It’s good to know even when you’re down.  There’s someone there.  There is someone out there who knows how you feel.  That you’re able to reach out your arms and wrap them around someone.  I want to thank all my friends who called and texted, and wrote me.  It means alot.

Next Friday, I’m going to call and get my numbers… I’m hoping they are smaller.  Well, at least the big one.  I want to go from six million little fuckers to – one.  Maybe, that’s a bit of a stretch, but we shall see what happens.  

I’m afraid it could go the other way, my CD4 even lower.  My VL even higher… A vicious angry virus.  Or maybe, hopefully, it is weak.  And this single pill, something I’ve taken 61 times now is all it needed to kick it out of my system.  Or at least put it in a state of retreat.  Like a coward.  

I want my HIV to be a coward.

Being back at home, in a warm bed.  In a warm weather climate.  Going back to the gym, settling into a routine is nice again.  Remembering that life is full of joy and wonder is great.  In a few weeks, I’m going to have an ART WEEK.

Art week will consist of a museum daily.  And then – writing.  Getting all this pent up anger and frustration.  And sadness.  And joy out of me.  I’m not sure what it’s going to be.  It may be a script that I want to shoot, or maybe it’ll just be a short story.  I’m into short stories now (thanks to S).  I’m not sure what it’ll be and I’m not going to corner it into anything but what it wants to be.

My next job may bring me to Hawaii.  That’ll be great.   (except if I see waves).  I hate the ocean.  It’s just so big.  So enormous.  And overwhelming.  Something, I can’t conquer.  And things that I can’t conquer, I fear.  I guess.

I hope to breathe easy next week.  Until then, I’m holding my breath.  (on land). 


Written by twotwentyeight

May 31, 2008 at 3:42 pm

Posted in Daily Life

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good doctor bad doctor

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On Sunday, I went to get my throat checked out. I’ve had a fear that it was Thrush. My tongue had been white for sometime – but not quite the way Thrush was described. Thrush, to me, meant that I am further along in my diagnosis, then just simply – the beginning stage. I was scared.

The doctor didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t give me a chance to tell him anything. Instead, he simply looked quickly at my throat and then prescribed to me Amoxicillin. A very generic antibacterial medicine. I went home that night and started the medicine and when I woke up the next day, I felt better.

Monday. I felt good.

Tuesday, I woke up and my throat had more white patches. Something I feared would happen. Something I was afraid would happen if I took antibacterial medicine if it were Thrush. I started to panic.

And dragged my roommate to the Gay and Lesbian Center here in Hollywood. I had an appointment at 6:45 pm. I waited all day. Freaked out. panicked. If this is Thrush, it could mean alot of bad things.

I could be further along – I could already have AIDS. My CD4 count could be below 300, as described on various websites. I was told not to read the internet, that I could go crazy doing that. I did so anyways.

And I’m driving myself a bit crazy.

I sat down first with the counselor. She seemed to feel sorry for me. I started to grill her on all the reasons I believed that maybe I was a false positive. I had this throat infection. I test false positive for TB. She suggested that they could do a blood rapid test. I agreed.

It was Positive.

And the doctor told me I had Thrush.

I’m fucking screwed.

This fucking virus hates me. And I hate it.

The new (and good) doctor prescribed to me some medicine called Nystatin that I have to swish in my mouth four times a day – then swallow. It tastes a bit like Cherry Mint (as described on the bottle). And it reminds me a bit of medicine I had as a kid. It’s sort of bittersweet. Emotionally and through taste.

It’s now a day later and I feel a little better. My throat I think is healing. The white patches have almost completely gone away (in just 24 hours) and I think things are looking positive. Fuck that pun.

I’ve always been impressed by my body. I never have gotten sick and the few times I have were always just weird crazy things – like Scarlet Fever and getting Chicken Pox that immobilized me.

I consider myself a healthy guy. I’ve been vegan for two years, my body has improved alot and I’m feeling like I’ll have a pretty sexy one in a few months – as long as I keep up on my protein shakes and weights. I really should join a gym and get some cardio in – but I just don’t want to spend more money. I also hate running or jogging as it fucks up my knees and feels just terrible on my body.

Maybe I’ll change my mind.

I feel better.

I think curing this fucking throat infection (I’m sticking with my Amoxicillin) will sort of feel like a personal victory. Like, “fuck you, HIV. This is my fucking body.”

And I’ll live as long as I fucking want.

Tomorrow, I go and set up my first doctor’s visit, so that I can get my numbers. We shall see what that brings.

I’m crossing my fingers.

Written by twotwentyeight

March 5, 2008 at 6:36 pm

Posted in Doctors

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two twenty eight

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Today, I found out I am infected with Human Immunodeficiency Virus.

I tested positive. I took one swipe on my upper lip and one swipe to my lower lip with the OraQuick Rapid HIV Test and thirty minutes later, I was sat down –

And told it was reactive.

The test is 99.8% accurate and so I have to come back in one week to be confirmed. To be told, definitively, you are infected – and your life will completely change. Just a few minutes ago, I was laughing with my best friend’s girlfriend in the waiting room. We were gossiping about sex with our boyfriends. It was so casual. So friendly. Sex was this harmless act, both humiliating and embarrassing. Something romantic and silly.

Now it had led to a slow and silent killer.

The shock wore on quickly. Being sat down, he told me it was reactive. Reactive? Did that mean, positive? You mean? What does that mean? What do I do now? I’m going to lose my boyfriend. I have to tell him. Our perfect life is over. The normalcy and safety I felt in being me. In being normal. Being OK with my homosexuality is now gone. I’m now a statistic. An argument for the Right. Gay men get AIDS. I wanted to set a good example for my homosexuality. I wanted to be a positive role model for those around me.

I wanted to be a good person.

And now, I feel – dirty. Humiliated. Disgusting. Ridiculous. A slut. Stupid. Angry. Frustrated. Embarrassed. Disappointed. Sad. Hurt. Sore. I feel every part of my body and wonder if that’s the virus. Is the itch on my back really the beginning of something worse? Do I have a headache because I’m about to feel something worse? Was that cough I had a month ago something worse? How am I going to die now?

How am I going to die?

I’m fucking twenty six years old and now I have a mortality. I’m supposed to live forever. I’m supposed to be the wild one. Who lives on naked wings. Who breathes in death’s cold breath. And laughs. And kicks and punches and defies my own disaster.

No longer.

I own my own mortality. The decisions I make are life decisions.

The future is dark and lonely. And finite. And even though this is true for everyone – I was fucking told today. I was told to my face.

I am going to die.

Written by twotwentyeight

February 28, 2008 at 7:43 pm

Posted in HIV

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