After many years with HIV, I've heard hundreds of stories about how people got the news they were positive. Since this month is very important in the story of how I found out, I decided it was the best time to share my story with those who haven't heard it. Bear with me as it's been a long time since I've told it and it may come out all garbled. But I'll do my best...
 |
This is about the time I first heard about
this stuff on the news. This is also about
the time I hit those "awkward years." |
HIV. I'm not sure when I first heard that particular acronym. I do remember hearing something on the news when I was twelve or thirteen years old... something about a few gay men in New York and San Francisco who were dying from a weird cancer. In my school district, we had Sex Ed in seventh grade. That would have been 1983. They taught us about herpes (that was all the rage back then) but they didn't mention a thing about HIV. Because it had yet to be identified.
(Many of us hadn't heard anything about this until at least the early 80's, but if you'd like to see the theoretical timeline of HIV/AIDS Wikipedia has a pretty succinct one here. And it goes back to the 1930's.)
By the time I was in high school, the virus had been identified and given a name. And some high profile deaths from AIDS had made the news. Most notably, Rock Hudson. AIDS jokes ran rampant. There were regular news stories on the virus - topics ranging from scientific discoveries to children like Ryan White who were banned from their schools, to the activism of newly-founded groups like ACT-UP.
Still, for many of us... well, it didn't touch our lives.
But little did we know how close we were to it. Little did I know how close.
October 1988 - I took my first HIV test. Not because I was worried. No. I wasn't an IV drug user. Wasn't a hemophiliac. And my sex life - well, I was 17... let's just say it wasn't very prolific. I had my first HIV test because I joined the Navy. It was standard procedure. I don't even think they gave you the results - unless they came back positive.
February 9, 1989 - I had my second HIV test. Again, it wasn't something I asked for. Only standard procedure at MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station). I was heading off to Basic Training. And, again, I never received the results. I was definitely negative.
After all that, I found myself in a relationship (Holly, remember her? I wrote about her in a previous blog). We split up in the fall of 1990 then, late in that year, something happened that prompted me to really start exploring my sexuality. It's a completely different story and not much related to this so I won't delve into it. But the one correlation is that I had my first physical encounter with a guy. HIV was suddenly at the top of my mind. After hearing about the fatality rate on the news and knowing that it mostly affected gay men, I was freaked out. To say the least, that first encounter was very, very safe. As was the second. And the third. Oh, and before you go thinking something-something... all three were with the same person. Don't know why I mention that - I guess I might still hold a little stigma around promiscuity. Partly. But I also want to convey that one doesn't need to be promiscuous to contract the virus.
Sometime in the spring of 1991, I took my first voluntary HIV test. My risk was low. Very, very low. But I had still had sex with men and, in my mind, that put me at risk even if my activities didn't. You see, I was still uneducated on the topic. Knew very little about how it was transmitted. What was safe. Or wasn't. In may ways, it was still taboo, even within the gay community. In Houston, where I lived, the bars offered free condoms. But they kept them behind the bar. You had to ask the bartender for one. Hah! How many of you would've done that at twenty years old? I was underage in a bar - I was not going to have any unnecessary conversations with the bar staff. Even more, years later, I learned my roommates at the time had HIV..... but they didn't talk to me about it. Never. Here I was a young man, coming to terms with his sexuality, living with two HIV-positive men (they've both passed away since then), and I didn't know how to protect myself. To say the least, there was a period of time that we as gay men tried to sweep it under the rug. At least that's my perception.
And, again, I was negative.
Around that same time, late spring/early summer 1991, I found what I was "looking for." I put that in quotes because it definitely wasn't what I was looking for. But it was a relationship with a charming, attractive guy. A guy who told me he was negative. He even showed me a document from the clinic showing me he was. We settled down... as much as two guys in their early-twenties can settle down. I was 20. He was 24. I was Jim. He was James. Weird, eh?
 |
| Getting past the awkward stage. |
And, unbeknownst to me, I was negative. And he was positive.
Our relationship was acidic. Tumultuous. Violent. Co-dependent. Unhealthy. Abusive. And I called it off that autumn.
But we lived together. And we were young. Funds were low on both sides. So one of us slept on the sofa (him - because I paid for that damn bed and I was going to sleep in it!). He wouldn't leave. I couldn't leave. But I was making plans to do just that.
Then a bit of Magic came into my life.
Magic Johnson to be exact.
On November 7, 1991, Magic Johnson held a press conference to tell the world he had HIV.
Again, my world wasn't affected. This was some basketball celebrity. I didn't know him. Would never meet him. Lived hundreds of miles away from him. And had nothing in common with him. Or so I thought.
His announcement reminded me that I should probably get tested again. By this time I'd heard or read that gay men should be tested every six months and, well, it'd been exactly six months. So I scheduled an appointment to have my blood drawn on the first day I had off from work - it was a day I had requested off for other reasons - November 13 - my birthday.
It was a Wednesday. Funny how you remember those things. Twenty-one years ago and I remember it was a Wednesday. I actually just looked it up after I wrote that to make sure my memory wasn't playing tricks on me. But, yeah, it was a Wednesday. And at 2 p.m. on that day I walked into the Multnomah County Health Clinic to get an HIV test.
The standard - then as it is now - is to provide a pre-test counseling session. During this, my test counselor informed me that I was at very low risk for HIV but I really should protect myself all of the time - 100% of the time - because there were so many other things to avoid - gonorrhea, chlamydia, and that old 80's holdout - herpes.
But after hearing my very honest & explicit sexual history (trust me, at the time I would not have been a candidate for a Maury show), she said I really shouldn't worry about HIV.
Poor woman.
I say that because two weeks later she was assigned to give me my test results. Her first positive results counseling.
Back then, it took two weeks to get your results. That's changed now. But in the early 90's they tried to make sure you came in exactly two weeks later. So, on November 27, 1991, I walked back into the clinic not a care in the world. They took me into a room, then two people walked in... the woman who had done my pre-test counseling and another woman I had never met (I realized later this was her trainer). Still thinking nothing was amiss, I sat there and they placed a folder on the table and said my results had come back. Asked if I had any questions to which I said, "No," (I mean, get on with it, I've got things to do!). They opened the folder and before they could tell me what my results were I somehow saw it there nestled in among all the other words - Positive.
Holy shit.
I pushed my chair away from the table and said, "No, I'm too young."
They stood up and placed their hands on my back.
"You mean, you're telling me, I can never have children? No. No. No."
 |
| And this is a young man with HIV. |
"Yes."
I don't remember what was said after that. My mind shut down. I stared out the window. They gave me some pamphlets. Scheduled a follow-up appointment. Maybe they took more blood. Maybe not. I don't know. I've had so much blood drawn since then I don't remember.
Honestly, I don't remember much at all. Because for the rest of that day I was a ghost walking through a living world.
On my way home, I stopped at a pet store. There were people around. I remember them. But they weren't really there. Not in my world. My world was different. And my mind was playing tricks. I could see right through them. But not the puppies. I knew I could see them. I had to see a puppy. I don't know why. Life beginning? Maybe. My love for dogs? Probably. My grown-up substitute for my childhood teddy bear? Yeah, that was the most likely reason.
And I saw puppies. Dozens of them. Yapping and nipping and licking me all over. I didn't cry. I didn't laugh. I just held them. Looked into their eyes. And I saw life. Young, unadulterated, energetic, innocent life.
And I decided then that no matter what I had just found out, I would forever hold onto that feeling of life.
So here I am. Twenty-one years later. And, for those who know me, you know I've honored that commitment to myself. Through thick and thin. Ups and downs. Good and bad. Fear and love. I've lived. And will never stop.
And that, my friends, is just another reason I ride next year.
I ride for that feeling you get from puppies.
Reading this one reminded me of youth & angst. If I'd been Morrissey, I could have recorded an album from some of these blog entries.
The truth is, I sometimes don't know what to do.
The truth is, I'm thankful to be here, if only for this moment.
