This is a piece I wrote years ago that I am bringing forward again now. I was talking to a friend about a female friend of his who was raped and this piece shares that I was too…with my experience and the major consequences it’s had on my life since…it was how I contracted HIV! (41 years ago)
Out of the dark, painfully back to my memory
I couldn't tell you the date, the time of year, what I ate, what I may have smoked or snorted, or just exactly why I was there; but I do have some vivid, very visual memories. I just started to remember them actually, as my selective memory seems to have protected me in a way for over 30 years. Blocked off the memory completely. But then the light bulb went off, the cloth was removed and the smelling salts helped me awake to the memories. I wish that I had stayed asleep, happy and clueless. The memories came with deeply suppressed shame followed by very strong anger. Yes, he did THAT to me, without my consent, when NO really meant NO, where the pain was literally an insult to injury, and when my life came off the rails and shifted forever.
Only while doing some deep personal introspection during my work ina 12 step program (back when I attended them) did it come out. I do remember exactly when and where that discussion happened. In a parking lot after a Friday night meeting l was leaning up against my new sponsor's car. We were talking about my history as an addict, going back memory to memory, when I was shocked that, as we discussed how one thing led to another, it came back...I was raped in the mid 80’s. To be blunt, I was a bottom, the man who took advantage of me was a top, meaning he fucked me from behind. It likely would have been painful, but all I can remember is my desperately wanting him to just STOP.
I walked home that night shocked, ashamed and definitely blaming myself for letting it happen. Yes, I chose to be there. It was my fault it happened. I thought I brought it on myself. I liked hanging out with him because not only was he successful and powerful, but he seemed to take an interest in me as an entrepreneur and encouraged my potential… and he had coke. I'd just started to take drugs the year before and yet I couldn't afford cocaine. I was very curious exploring how it affected me, liked it in many ways, We had gotten together a few times before and I had felt safe with him, no cause for concern. Later I was told this was called “grooming” me to prepare me to be vulnerable. I just know that I now believe he had planned this beforehand,
I feel used and abused… Right now, as I write these words my jaw is clenched and my muscles are very tight. I am guessing he still works at the same place I met him, or I might be able to find his house again. I wonder if I would have the guts to accuse him and given the chance to take him to court. Would I tell this story in public? (I’m doing just that right now!) Would I be ashamed and therefore believe people would judge me...they likely would! What good would it do to go after him now, after all these years. Do I want revenge? Do I want to see him locked up? Do I want him to suffer repercussions, to pay for what he did? This is the opposite of what a friend had recommended …
Forgiveness! They said I would grow and release negativity if I just forgave him. That's a crock of it, isn't it? How about revenge instead? Wouldn't I release negativity more if I saw him pay for what he did? He caused me more than the physical pain that night. He caused me all the physical and emotional pain that I've incurred in the 40 years since then.
Because that night he infected me with the HIV Virus. That was 1985 and in 1987 I was diagnosed HIV+. I’m very blessed and very thankful that I didn’t start having major physical problems until years after my diagnosis, yet I started having emotional problems immediately in the days after I was diagnosed. Nothing can prepare you for a diagnosis of a life threatening illness. Nothing can prepare you to get this information from researchers at NIH in white scrubs who likely never had been the bearer of such bad news before.
Today there are specialists that can share the news with you gently and offer support networks available to you immediately, and these days most people find out when they know what their blood is being tested for. I was tested during a study there at NIH. There was no one there for me, no one to counsel me. Not much information readily available to read back then. Very little information about what AIDs was, and how it affected people.
Yet with a little effort I was able to find support groups with other HIV+ people. This support and connection helped save my life. We got tested very regularly for our tCell counts, worrying each time what the tests would show. Were we dying, if so how fast. Yet we all feared and felt we knew we WERE dying. AIDS was known as a death sentence those days. I watched others die around me left and right.., usually painfully and somewhat quickly, a path that didn't offer much time for acceptance.
I chose to NOT take any of the early meds available then. They really knew very little about them, really just hoped they would help people. They were giving people AZT, which did help some people, but the doses were extremely high. From what I saw, some people seemed to get worse really fast. The bottom line is that people were suffering unnecessarily. They might have died anyway, we all might have, yet I couldn’t help wondering whether the treatment itself might have accelerated their demise.
I am very blessed to still be here! My Mom calls me a miracle, a term I prefer is “Long Term Survivor.” An elite group, those of us that are very lucky, blessed to have been gifted more of a full life. Often not without pain, major health challenges physically AND emotionally (Survivors Guilt was a major challenge for me to process)…yet still breathing, functioning and present through many more experiences, months, years and decades. We lived through the years when clinicians didn’t know how to manage HIV, we watched friends die, developed AIDS, and still made it into the era of effective treatment. So long-term survival isn’t just sentiment, it’s historically accurate. What’s clear though is that I’m part of a very small survivor population from the epidemic’s earliest years.
Why do I believe I’m still here? A combination of things…luck of course was a factor, yet I give most of the credit to the network of family and friends I was so blessed to have supporting and embracing me. The company, care, rides, and holistic sessions were essential, and having a comfortable roof over my head, food delivered for free and professional help from HIV doctors, specialists, clinics, support groups, plus have b my medications covered by insurance were all things I had that many others did not. Yet I believe the most important factor was the hope and belief others had that I WOULD survive that they shared, often with out words. This fortified my confidence and belief I was meant to still be here…and I am.
The reality: In 1997 my tCells dropped under 200, a sign that changed my diagnosis to someone living with AIDS. The only good thing about this was that this diagnosis immediately put me on disability which helped me financially (I ended up not working as I got worse) and got me on Medicare which made sure I got better health care. I began going to a clinic that wreaked of death and there was a deep silent sadness that pervaded the rooms. The doctors were kind but offered little support and positive encouragement. Sadly almost everyone whose tCells dropped under 200 are no longer with us….
…. please read PART TWO
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