So the word load is used a lot in homosexual sexual interactions. It is often the topic of many sexual conversations, either during coitus or not. How big is your load? Do you want my load? What's the viscosity of your load? Can I dump my load all over your face, back, well you get the idea. However, the term load can also be used to discuss things that are slightly more serious than the spunk that comes out of a penis. A little over three weeks ago I tested positive to a rapid HIV test, and my viral load became something of an important item of conversation. I want to take the next few posts to explain what has happened over the course of the last three weeks and the lessons that I have learned.
About four weeks ago I left work early because my back was hurting really badly. It was excruciating to just to sit at my desk, let alone do actual work. It was a Tuesday afternoon and I took a cab to the train station because walking was not a possibility. I then called out sick the next two days because I wanted to rest up. Over the next two days I was on heavy pain killers and sequestered to the couch. During this resting period my body began exhibiting flu-like symptoms. I would wake up drenched in sweat, had golf balls in my throat, and developed chills. All these symptoms seemed odd because I did not have a fever, and it was not flu season.
I think every queer man has this fear in the back of his mind of getting HIV. We try not to think about it, and I think that in recent years HIV and AIDS have become a lot less visible. It isn't the crisis it was in the 80's or even 90's. If caught early and prescribed the appropriate meds most patients won't die from it. It's a lot easier to sweep HIV and AIDS under the rug when people aren't dying from it left and right. And not even dying, but practically living normal lives. Sure HIV has it's health complication, yet most of the time they are mild.
About two weeks prior to the onset of my flu-like symptoms I hooked up with this guy who was visiting Jersey for the fourth of July holiday. I accidentally sat on his dick without a condom for all of a minute until we came to our senses and put one on. I generally have more sense than this, but it had been a while and I was hungry (plus I was really wet and it just kind of slipped in). From this situation I had this little voice in the back of my head that whispered that these flu-like symptoms might be more than just the flu and might speak to something slightly more sinister. Then the night sweats started and I really began to think this was way more than a random summer virus. I work in oncology and night sweats usually mean one thing, Lymphoma. Ask anyone who works in oncology and night sweats are often a warning sign of Lymphoma. How many of you experience night sweats when you get the common cold or the flu? I'm assuming the frequency wouldn't be very high.Bottom line, night sweats should never be ignored.
These night sweats weren't your typical night sweats either. I would literally wake up every hour covered in enough sweat that I could gather it with my hands, fling it at the wall and hear the sound of my sweat hitting the wall. This is when the fear of HIV really started to grow in the recesses of my mind. Luckily, I have this amazing ability to ignore things that cause me palpable anxiety.
I did my best to try and get myself better. I began taking copious amounts of vitamins, drinking tea and coconut water, eating soup, and sleeping constantly. However, none of my symptoms abated and I believe they were even getting worse. It was Friday night and I was going to be a sick loser and stay in. I took a nap until nine and then woke up starving. I got my exhausted ass out of bed and drove to my local Panera and ordered four different bowls of soup and a large tea. I finished three soups with their accompanying bread. I then decided to call one of my gay besties to bitch about how awful I felt. It was during this conversation that he asked the question that would burst open the flood gates to my ocean of anxiety, "Have you had unprotected sex lately?" It was all I needed to hear and I could not keep the fears that were lingering in the back of my mind at bay any longer. I knew what he was inferring, I knew that the onset of HIV was often ushered in with flu-like symptoms. Ever since I began sleeping with men it was something that I was acutely aware of, and the fact that one of my worst fears could become a reality was terrifying. We discussed it and I decided that I would head over to Planned Parenthood on Monday to get a rapid test done. I just wanted to know, I just needed to know.
Saturday morning I had work at 8 am. The night sweats prevented me from obtaining anything close to a good nights sleep, and I was exhausted. My throat was so swollen that even swallowing hurt and I was so achy I could not concentrate. The now pervasive thought that I might be HIV positive was all I could think of as the wave upon wave of chills hit me. The anxiety was so strong that I needed to get tested. Waiting till Monday was no longer an option. I told the nurse in charge that I needed to leave and from work went straight to Planned Parenthood to take the rapid test. Every second that I got closer my anxiety built until my heart was pounding in my chest and my armpits were moist despite the chills.
Once I was at Planned Parenthood I was told I needed to wait two hours because they overbooked on Saturdays. I tried to find another alternative that would not waste my entire Saturday, but this Planned Parenthood seemed to be the only option, so I decided to wait, to know. I wound up only waiting about 45 minutes and being taken into the lab to have my finger stuck. The rapid rest looks a lot like a pregnancy test that uses blood and not urine. After my blood was collected and deposited onto the strip I was told to wait in a waiting room to the side. After about 15 minutes the lab tech called over the nurse practitioner, Ellen. Ellen then called me into her office and it was over. I work in a business that routinely delivers bad news and nurse practitioners are hardly ever used to deliver good news, that's what ancillary staff is for. Before she could even open her mouth I said, "it's positive, isn't it," and I lost it. The room blurred, my blood surged, and the tears stated pouring down my face. I woozily collapsed into the chair behind me and my bag spilled across the floor. I think I balled from shock, disbelief, mourning the simple sex life I had, and the prospect of having to tell my ridiculously conservative family this news. I have crazy anxiety and it's hard to keep my mind from running about 2000 miles ahead. I must have cried for about 20 minutes before I was able to speak or comprehend anything.
Poor Ellen just sat across from me dumbfounded. It was obvious that telling someone he had HIV was not on her expected agenda for the day. She was a trooper though. She took her time, let me have water and tissues. I took a few moments and called two or three friends, and had my one friend Luke meet me at Planned Parenthood. I could not handle this alone. I can barely survive a paper cut by myself, let alone the news that I had a serious chronic illness. We waited till Luke got there and Ellen explained some things to me, none of which I actually remember because I was in shock and I would soon be ridiculously wasted. Ellen did another rapid test, which turned out to be positive and draw blood for the confirmatory test. After those two things were done and my other friend, Nelson, met us we left. I needed to get as far away from Planned Parenthood as possible. It felt constricting and I needed to breath.
We ventured to a nearby dinner and I proceeded to order several dirty grey goose martinis. I'm pretty sure I ordered three, but I might be wrong. I then began crying uncontrollably in the middle of the dinner, and a scene is definitely what I was making. I mean I usually cry during rom com's and those sappy puppy commercials, so the fact that I was balling in a dinner after three martini's and receiving positive HIV test results should not have surprised anyone. Over the course of that day many tears were shed. I know that with appropriate treatment I could live a full and fulfilling life, and the stigma surrounding HIV is slowly diminishing. However, there are things that would be difficult. Dating and hook-ups would now involve explanations and possible rejection from people, not that I didn't receive rejection anyway, but this was just another reason to suffer rejection. I had to mourn the fact that donating blood would no longer be a possibility. Yes, I am aware that men who have sex with men are not supposed to donate blood, but in my opinion that is an archaic rule that is a remnant of a homophobic society. I believe that as long as I know my status my blood is no more dangerous than anyone else's. It's all about being cautious. I give blood regularly and enjoy doing so, and this loss was hard for me. Also, who knows what the long term effects of HIV meds are? I know that the side effects are much less than even 5 years ago, but since new drugs are being developed constantly appropriate studies testing the effects of users 20 to 30 years down the line have not even been conducted.
All these things went through my mind and I was seriously overwhelmed. I spent the remainder of that day heavily intoxicated on a plethora of clear intoxicants, and surrounded by those who loved me. I have an amazing group of friends that have been by my side through so much of my life. I know that without their unwavering support and love my life would probably be in shambles.
As the day wore on the tears stopped. I was just too emotionally exhausted to cry anymore, to care anymore. I had used up my emotional allotment for the day it seemed.
Luke and Nelson swept me away to Nelson's house and we were gonna have a slumber party. I knew that it would be a little while until I could handle being alone. When you are alone the silence speaks and fills your head with all the fears that hide in the noise of life. I could not let these fears awaken, and keeping busy and preoccupied was essential. Once at Nelson's I forced Luke and Nelson to watch my favorite movie, Bachelorette. It is this amazing dark comedy about how life never manages to reach your expectations. It also star Kirsten Dunst, and I'm pretty much ridiculously obsessed with her. I have made it my mission to expose everyone I know to this film and so far no one has been disappointed. Bachelorette coupled with the alcohol and the company of my friends seemed to sooth me.
My best friend Jaime (I am not changing her name because she is too large a part of my life to make anonymous and I hope that she isn't going to mind) drove all the way to Philly to comfort me. There are very few moments when all you crave in this world is the voice and closeness of your best friend, but ladies and gents this was one of those moments. I can be very demanding when I want to be and I'm pretty sure I would have thrown a hissy fit if she had not come. She picked me up from Nelson's house and drove me home. We stopped at Moe's on the way home (for the record Moe's blows huge chunks when compared to Chipotle). We had planned on splitting a box of wine when we got back to my house, but I think we were both too exhausted to even manage a glass. She spent the night next to me in my bed, which meant a lot because I was still profusely sweating all night long, however, Ellen did give me a Z-Pak and I was hoping it would start to get these flu-like symptoms under control.
I went to sleep that night in a daze. I had no idea what the next few weeks would bring and I was too overwhelmed to formulate a plan or care. I made it through D day and I would make it through the next few weeks and months. I didn't know when life would feel normal again, but I knew that it would eventually, even if I had to carve out a "new normal" for myself.
