Here We Go Again

It’s weird to continue to blog about my life without writing about something that recently happened and I’m going to do my best to make it at least slightly humorous. On February 7, 2015 I was diagnosed with HIV. Now I know what you are all thinking, “didn’t this just happen like 8 months ago?” Yes, it did, but this time there was no false positive, there was no rescue net a week down the line. This time I actually had a viral load and a gamete of positive test results.

The call came from my doctor three days after I had my blood work taken when I was sitting on my couch with the guy I’m currently seeing, my best friend, and my ex-girlfriend (talk about awkward). I missed the call and had to call the office back incessantly until someone called me back. I suffer from chronic anxiety (my term for generalized anxiety disorder) and having a call from my doctor three days after having my STI workup was extremely anxiety producing, so much so that my bestie, Jaime, was courteous enough to give me one of her Xanax’s. When my doctor finally telephoned me back I walked into the kitchen and he began to tell me the bad news. I guess at first I thought he was calling to tell me I had something rather benign that was curable, like the clap or syphilis. A round of antibiotics and I’d be as good as new, but this was not to be the case. I took the news that my HIV test had come back positive and I would need to come in for further testing. I listened and kept my shit together. I then had Jaime and my ex, Brielle, go upstairs and I told my current love interest, Ben, that I tested positive. I sent him home and fell apart.

Later that night I went out to dinner in the city for my birthday, and what a wonderful birthday it was. I was too drunk to pretty much comprehend anything. I often drink to cope with my problems and this instance was definitely not any different. It was a night filled with melancholy and tears, and most certainly not one to remember. The next few weeks passed in a blur. I saw my doctor the following Monday, and then again the Monday after that. I was started on medication, specifically Truvada and Tivicay. I was shocked that I experienced NO side effects and ultimately if it wasn’t for actually taking pills every day I would probably momentarily forget that I even was positive.

One thing that my doctor said when I came in for my first visit was that I would wake up thinking I was going to die every day for the next six months, and at this point it’s been almost 7 weeks and I don’t feel that way now. Sure there are times when I think about how one night stands probably won’t be a thing anymore (not that they were really a thing to begin with), and it was hard to know that most of my fuck buddies weren’t calling, but for the moment I was dating someone who was willing to see past HIV and see me, and that was more assurance than anything else. Sure HIV can be a hard pill to swallow, but I am more than HIV, and HIV is no longer the disease that it once was. We have anti-viral regimens that are easily tolerated and can bring down your viral load to levels of being undetectable. The pills don’t create vast changes in the body, and there is even PrEP that can stop your sexual partners from contracting the virus.

However, speaking with people about my HIV has definitely allowed me to see the many misconceptions that people have. My friend’s sister even asked if we could share drinking glasses. I understand the severity of the diagnosis, but at least now I have it and I am taking steps to ensure that I do not pass it on.

That being said Ben and I had unprotected sex several times before I was diagnosed. I guess I just felt comfortable with him from the get-go and I suppose he did too. It’s not even like I enjoy bareback sex all that much more than protected sex, but it kind of just happened the first time we fucked because we were both heavily intoxicated and we just never bothered to wrap it up after that. At this point it’s been almost 8 weeks since we consummated our relationship and he has yet to get tested. I know that he is pushing it off because he is afraid of the results, and this differs drastically from my anxiety-ridden personality. If I were him I would have gotten tested every week for the last 6 weeks, but I can’t push things out of my mind. Thoughts plague me until I go a little nutty. However, his procrastination is still causing me stress because his status is something I still need to deal with and process. Maybe that’s me being a little selfish because after all what does it really matter? But it does matter. His status will absolutely have an impact on our relationship, a relationship that has already been through so much in such a short amount of time. I guess I just try and think positive and rationalize that because he has yet to have flu-like symptoms he’s probably negative.

Then last Friday, March 20, I received a message from my doctor informing me that I was undetectable. This was ridiculously surprising because I had only been on the medication for four weeks, and my doctor had hypothesized that I wouldn’t be undetectable for two months. This was definitely life finally giving me something to smile about and hope that things will continue to get better. I know that as life unfolds there will be continued challenges, but I’m confident that I’ll be able to tackle them.