storytimewithjoe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storytimewithjoe) wrote2020-10-30 02:48 pm
storytimewithjoe) wrote2020-10-30 02:48 pm
12 years of living with HIV
Because the pandemic is making all the days blend together, I had completely forgotten to take note of a particular milestone that hit this month: It has now been twelve years since I learned that I was HIV Positive.
At the time, I blogged about the experience, but kept it on lock-down. For so many reasons, I didn’t want most people to know, as I was still trying to process things. I felt anger, shame, embarrassment, and a myriad of other emotions. But when we fast-forward to today, I find that I really have no regrets. While I was still young enough and energetic enough to enjoy it, I was partying like a rockstar. I had a husband who loved me unconditionally who let me live life. I stayed out late. I hit the bars. I danced like there was no tomorrow. I met so many interesting people. I experience the heights and depths of being a young(ish) happy gay guy who would hear that fun song, knowing it was the trigger for me to peel off my shirt and get into the middle of the dance floor.
So what has changed? A lot!
Now that I am in my fifties, I just don’t have the energy to live like that anymore. I knew that would happen, and it is totally fine. Why fine? Because I did get to experience it all – and right when I felt like I was in the prime of my life. Because I know me too well, I know that if I hadn’t had all those late crazy nights, wild experiences, and some unwise decisions; I would have been sitting here right now feeling bitter and sad. Why? Because to me, nothing is sadder than looking back and saying, “I coulda….shoulda… woulda…” And now that my going on 53 year old body just can’t stay awake as much (naps are wonderful!) and can’t command the dance floor as I know I once did, I can at least look back upon the experiences with a smile, and not a frown of regret.
At the time I got my diagnosis in 2008, things were “better” than they had been, but the prognosis was still pretty bleak. At the time, it was still a death sentence – but just not as immediate as it had been. Or, to quote my doctor, “You can still live for decades.” My overthinking brain said, “Oh great. ‘…decades’. So here I am at 40, and I will probably live until 60. Well… I guess I’m going to have to make every moment count.”
And I have!
Now in 2020, we know that the combination of medications is very effective. I have been laboratory undetectable for years, which means that even the most sophisticated tests cannot detect HIV being replicated in my system. And otherwise, I’m in really healthy shape. I have that couple of pounds that I would like to shed (who doesn’t?) I have some joint aches and pains (the dance floors took a toll). My eyesight has shifted from being very nearsighted to needing readers to work on most of my projects. And I have more salt than pepper in my hair. So what does this mean?
As far as I’m concerned, it means that I am absolutely living my life, enjoying each chapter, and having no regrets. AND, as long as I have my memory, I can look back at all the things I have experienced, and it makes me smile like a Cheshire cat. But… it took some time to get here.
Now, if you are interested, I will openly share with you all what happened to me that Monday twelve years ago…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
October 7, 2008
Yesterday, I learned that I am HIV positive.
The day had to have been one of the most grueling I have ever endured – from the point where the doctor called me (at 9:30) and told me that I needed to come in (at 3:40), all the way through having my worst fear confirmed. I must give my medical providers credit, though. They really showed some true compassion. Having worked in the HIV field for several years myself, I have heard many of the nightmares of the early days, and am fortunate in that I did not have to go through such a thing. In fact, they got me in pretty darned quickly to see a social worker who was ready just in case I had a meltdown. Rather than having a meltdown, I found myself in a surreal haze – not even crying or feeling anything. Shock, maybe?
When I got home, I found my poor hubby sitting on the couch, in pain still from his sore neck. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even offer facial expression. Instead, I just handed him my verification of diagnosis. He read it, immediately got up, and said what I needed to hear, “I will always love you – no matter what.” We then held each other and cried.
About an hour later, I left for yoga. Bad news or not, I still need my exercise, right? BEST move I could have made. While going through the motions and holding particular poses, I found myself in such a place of peace and clarity – away from hurt, or disease, or worry. And it was there that I made some decisions.
No pity-parties for Joeguppy. I do not want, or expect, or accept sympathy. What’s done is done. I’m not going to be in a place of “WHY did this HAPPEN to ME???!!!” I know why this happened to me. I thought I was playing safe, but apparently not safe enough. Now, I need to make some modifications to what I do and how, and continue living a great life.
Just the other day, I had a stop and smell the roses moment. Here I am at 40 – a midway point. I realized that my life is pretty damned amazing. I have a career, a wonderful home, and the best life-partner I could ever ask for. If I got hit by a bus today, I would have lived a greater and more quality-filled life than the majority. That doesn’t change just because of a microscopic organism. I’m gonna continue to live my life to the fullest, damnit, and not be terrified or terrorized by something that I cannot see.
So now, I have made an appointment to go in and see the specialist that my doctor referred me to, and I will figure out what I need to do to continue living my life. Thank you all for being there and for just being who you are. I get by, with a little help from my friends.
At the time, I blogged about the experience, but kept it on lock-down. For so many reasons, I didn’t want most people to know, as I was still trying to process things. I felt anger, shame, embarrassment, and a myriad of other emotions. But when we fast-forward to today, I find that I really have no regrets. While I was still young enough and energetic enough to enjoy it, I was partying like a rockstar. I had a husband who loved me unconditionally who let me live life. I stayed out late. I hit the bars. I danced like there was no tomorrow. I met so many interesting people. I experience the heights and depths of being a young(ish) happy gay guy who would hear that fun song, knowing it was the trigger for me to peel off my shirt and get into the middle of the dance floor.
So what has changed? A lot!
Now that I am in my fifties, I just don’t have the energy to live like that anymore. I knew that would happen, and it is totally fine. Why fine? Because I did get to experience it all – and right when I felt like I was in the prime of my life. Because I know me too well, I know that if I hadn’t had all those late crazy nights, wild experiences, and some unwise decisions; I would have been sitting here right now feeling bitter and sad. Why? Because to me, nothing is sadder than looking back and saying, “I coulda….shoulda… woulda…” And now that my going on 53 year old body just can’t stay awake as much (naps are wonderful!) and can’t command the dance floor as I know I once did, I can at least look back upon the experiences with a smile, and not a frown of regret.
At the time I got my diagnosis in 2008, things were “better” than they had been, but the prognosis was still pretty bleak. At the time, it was still a death sentence – but just not as immediate as it had been. Or, to quote my doctor, “You can still live for decades.” My overthinking brain said, “Oh great. ‘…decades’. So here I am at 40, and I will probably live until 60. Well… I guess I’m going to have to make every moment count.”
And I have!
Now in 2020, we know that the combination of medications is very effective. I have been laboratory undetectable for years, which means that even the most sophisticated tests cannot detect HIV being replicated in my system. And otherwise, I’m in really healthy shape. I have that couple of pounds that I would like to shed (who doesn’t?) I have some joint aches and pains (the dance floors took a toll). My eyesight has shifted from being very nearsighted to needing readers to work on most of my projects. And I have more salt than pepper in my hair. So what does this mean?
As far as I’m concerned, it means that I am absolutely living my life, enjoying each chapter, and having no regrets. AND, as long as I have my memory, I can look back at all the things I have experienced, and it makes me smile like a Cheshire cat. But… it took some time to get here.
Now, if you are interested, I will openly share with you all what happened to me that Monday twelve years ago…
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
October 7, 2008
Yesterday, I learned that I am HIV positive.
The day had to have been one of the most grueling I have ever endured – from the point where the doctor called me (at 9:30) and told me that I needed to come in (at 3:40), all the way through having my worst fear confirmed. I must give my medical providers credit, though. They really showed some true compassion. Having worked in the HIV field for several years myself, I have heard many of the nightmares of the early days, and am fortunate in that I did not have to go through such a thing. In fact, they got me in pretty darned quickly to see a social worker who was ready just in case I had a meltdown. Rather than having a meltdown, I found myself in a surreal haze – not even crying or feeling anything. Shock, maybe?
When I got home, I found my poor hubby sitting on the couch, in pain still from his sore neck. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even offer facial expression. Instead, I just handed him my verification of diagnosis. He read it, immediately got up, and said what I needed to hear, “I will always love you – no matter what.” We then held each other and cried.
About an hour later, I left for yoga. Bad news or not, I still need my exercise, right? BEST move I could have made. While going through the motions and holding particular poses, I found myself in such a place of peace and clarity – away from hurt, or disease, or worry. And it was there that I made some decisions.
No pity-parties for Joeguppy. I do not want, or expect, or accept sympathy. What’s done is done. I’m not going to be in a place of “WHY did this HAPPEN to ME???!!!” I know why this happened to me. I thought I was playing safe, but apparently not safe enough. Now, I need to make some modifications to what I do and how, and continue living a great life.
Just the other day, I had a stop and smell the roses moment. Here I am at 40 – a midway point. I realized that my life is pretty damned amazing. I have a career, a wonderful home, and the best life-partner I could ever ask for. If I got hit by a bus today, I would have lived a greater and more quality-filled life than the majority. That doesn’t change just because of a microscopic organism. I’m gonna continue to live my life to the fullest, damnit, and not be terrified or terrorized by something that I cannot see.
So now, I have made an appointment to go in and see the specialist that my doctor referred me to, and I will figure out what I need to do to continue living my life. Thank you all for being there and for just being who you are. I get by, with a little help from my friends.