The afternoon was the highlight of my day. Technically my first visit to the HIV ward of San Lazaro Hospital. The H4 ward. For those not familiar, this is where those with HIV and AIDS are confined. Honestly, it’s a dingy, gloomy old building, and I think it’s a shame it hasn’t gotten spruced up to at least give the patients a more lively and happy environment to live in. I can imagine it’s not hard to feel depression there… something that they say you should veer away from when you have HIV.
I was referred to one particular doctor. She wasn’t available when I got there, so I had to wait for about half an hour before seeing her. The wait was agonizing. Apparently, that ward is notorious. You don’t go there for just any reason. Either you’re a doctor or some medical personnel, a relative, or most probably, you have HIV. I was seated by the door to the ward along with a couple of patients confined there, and I felt like a spotlight was aimed at me, waiting for them to ask me, “Are you one of us?”
Finally, the doctor came around, and she was expecting me. We stepped into her cubicle, and the briefing began. She discussed all the facts about HIV and AIDS. Stuff that I had learned in school. And I realize, education and awareness just doesn’t cut it. I’m living proof.
I know she felt some pity for me. Pity because I was young. Pity because I had gotten tested on a whim, and not because I was feeling something bad. Pity because I was turning 30 tomorrow. Pity because I was alone.
I tried to keep a light attitude the whole time. I only almost got teary-eyed when she was trying to convince me that my family should know. She just made me feel lonely, that’s all. I said it would happen eventually, but that now is not the right time.
And then came my baptism. I was christened with my patient number. To preserve the anonymity of patients, especially when it came to records and laboratory tests, people on their HIV registry are assigned patient numbers. I am H4-2008-054. Let’s break it down. H4 is the ward identification, 2008 stands for the year that I was diagnosed, and 054 means I’m the 54th on the registry for this year. Fifty-four?! Wow! And I thought I was all alone…
I was given my lab referrals as well, and I plan on going to get them done tomorrow. Oh, boy, another date with the needles. What a happy birthday it’s gonna be…
On a positive note, I feel like a secret agent… on one hell of a mission. Agent H4-2008-054… I’m Poz… Pinoy Poz.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Mission: Impossible
Let the Paranoia Begin
This was supposed to be my pre-birthday bash. Thanks to Gloria Arroyo, I’ve gotten the knack of making personal holidays out of days sandwiched between weekends and actual holidays.
I took a leave from work today, but was out most of the day running “errands”.
I spent the morning renewing my driver’s license. Straightforward supposedly. But so much was going through my head while there undergoing the medical exam. I got asked what medications I was taking. I’d only been on amoxicillin for the tooth extraction I underwent recently. But what if I was on HIV medications already? What would the doctor think if I blurted out “I’m on anti-retrovirals…” The reality of my fear of the stigma surfaced. Fortunately it won’t be another three years before I have to get my license renewed again. Let’s put those thoughts on the backburner... for now.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Murphy Knows
Murphy’s Law: If anything can go wrong, it will… and at the worst possible time.
Who is this Murphy guy anyway? And what hand of God gave him the right to conspire with the fates?
Ok, ok, hold on now… Before you misconstrue this as my being in denial or angry about my condition, let me explain. I do believe in Murphy’s Law. That’s a given. But how come even the opposite of his law still makes sense?
If anything can go right it will. True, right? But I say, if anything can go right it will… but still at the worst possible time. Hahaha.
I’m HIV positive. Yeah, we all know that by now. And I’m at the point where I’m thinking I don’t have a right to have a sex life, or a love life for that matter. I’ll worry about that part some other time. But has HIV affected my eyesight, or are there just so many good-looking guys out there tempting my attempts at celibacy?
I’d made trips to the mall over the weekend. Pure, pure torture. Hot guys everywhere I look. Hot guys showing interest even. Making eye contact. But no. I have no choice but to look away. O, tukso, layuan mo ako…
And this isn’t the only case. I’ve noticed before that exactly when I‘m single and available, it seems no one is interested. But the moment I get into a relationship, and am trying sooo hard to be faithful, temptation rears its gorgeous head. Argh! Why?! Why?!
Worst case? I’ll have to have “HIV positive” tattooed on my forehead. That should keep them away.
Let me just make it clear, I’m not planning on consciously putting someone in danger of catching this “blessing” that I’ve got. I do have a conscience. So all you hot, gorgeous, horny, sexy guys out there… NO. I can’t have you. Or maybe I can… but I shouldn’t.
So why now?! Why weren’t these guys around when I actually could have had them? Who the hell told Murphy I was poz?!
Friday, May 02, 2008
My Mojo
Remember the guy I mentioned in my previous post? Yeah, that one. The reason why I decided to get tested… Let me tell you about him.
For purposes of anonymous reference, let’s call him… Mojo. Why Mojo? I dunno, I just always thought that was a cute and cool name. Mojo.
He had found me on the net earlier this year, just being my horny self. Yes, yes, I admit, I’m a raging bull when it comes to sex. How bad am I? Above average kink for universal standards. Which is extreme kink to Filipinos. Please don’t ask for details. So anyways, he found me at it, and surprisingly was still interested to meet. He was into what I was.
So March 25th, we met. Checked into a motel, and did the deed. It was no less than perfect. We were sexually compatible. Unfortunately though, we were both into bareback sex. And we didn’t even consider using protection that night.
We had remained in touch after that steamy night, and I was seriously realizing that this might be more than just about sex. Yeah, he was a nice guy, the split personality type. Quiet, calm and decent in public, but wild, tough and rough in the confines. An ode to Mentos. Crunchy on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside. A great combination.
So anyways, regardless of interest, he still had to know about my condition. We had non-sexual-dated a number of times more between that first meeting and today, and even once after I got my results. I didn’t know how to tell him. I was afraid of how he would take it. I didn’t want to ruin the relaxed evening we were having. I didn’t have a valid segue. Trust me, I had every reason in the book. I knew I should tell him, but just really didn’t have the guts to. Until tonight.
He had been bugging me about our pending “second time”, and I was running out of alibis not to do it. He knew how sexual I was and couldn’t understand why I was avoiding getting back into bed with him. He was starting to imagine that I didn’t like him that much, or didn’t like him at all, or didn’t enjoy the first time, or just wanted to be friends, or was seeing someone else. Sounded like plots to some Filipino soap operas.
So tonight I told him by sending him a text message. “I got sick. I just found out I’m HIV positive.” I think it slapped all the drama out of him. I guess he had to hear it straight, and shortly gave me a ring. I now realize that I shall hate being asked if I’m not joking about it. This would be a very, very bad and unfunny joke. Argh.
So we talked. He asked me all the whos, whens, wheres and whys. He said he wasn’t really surprised, knowing all the bad habits I had. But that he was saddened by the news. Hearing him say “I am still your friend”, brought a tear to my eye. I told him he’d have to get tested as well, to make sure he didn’t catch it. He said he’d wait until he feels something bad. Wha?! I reassured him I’d go with him if he needed support. He said he just didn’t know what he’d do if ever he found out he had it. Speechless. So getting tested really is an big issue for people beyond me. Now I’m really, really proud of myself for doing it.
So anyway, we talked for about an hour, shifting to lighter stuff, tackling his own little dramas of life, even laughing just a bit. It was nice. Relieving. He said he still liked me… that sex wasn’t the only thing he wanted… that he’d be there for me. I hate when I get mushy… and I did. It made me stronger, and I could only hope that everyone I will be coming out to would take it this well.
Mojo and I will be seeing each other at the mall tomorrow, and I’m actually prepared to get asked “Are you sure you’re not joking?” After the weeks I’ve spent crawling back into my shell, this will be a breakthrough for me. I’d forgotten for a while how optimistic I’ve always been, but really… Life isn’t all bad after all. I just might be getting my mojo back.
I’ve once again peeked out of the closet. Or maybe more like dragged someone in.
The Four-Letter Word
Hate. Yes it's harsh. But I shall use it.
You must understand. I HATE DOCTORS. The only time I'd really been operated on was for circumcision, which is not entirely a free and open choice here in the Philippines. Oh, and I don’t limit my hatred to doctors. It shall extend to nurses, dentists, therapists, pharmacists, and even the guys that do the urine tests required to get a driver’s license. Tsk, tsk, tsk, so much angst. Oddly though, I'd run into more than a handful of doctors and other health professionals during my online dating life. No hate involved there.
One other thing, I HATE NEEDLES. Needlephobia, trypanophobia, aichmophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia or whatever it’s called, I have it. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've been poked by a needle prior to this test.
There. I said it. So give me some credit, ok? Or at least the right to hate...
Thursday, May 01, 2008
Testing... Testing...
I had read online about some free HIV testing in the Manila area for the month of March, and decided to take advantage. It was March 31st, and I didn't want to let the chance pass. I had taken the day off from work to trek down to the Social Hygiene Clinic of the Manila Health Office in the San Lazaro vicinity in Manila. Not exactly convenient for someone who lives in Quezon City, but I made the effort.
Ok, I'll admit it. I had scouted the place out the Friday prior to that day. Ok, ok, maybe not “scouted”. More like I was too chicken to go in and get it done. Hahaha. So by the time the 31st came around, I was a bit familiar with the area, which gave me less reason not to go. Not to mention I had mustered up a bit more guts to actually step into the building. Always a good thing.
I followed all the instructions in the forum post. Across San Lazaro Hospital. Yep, it was there, the Manila Health Office. Side entrance. A bit creepy to be honest. Second floor. It reminded me of some old public school building, which isn’t exactly bad. Look for Dr. Malou. Found her.
Dra. Malou Tan. She was nice and cordial, and just asked me a few questions before a very short briefing on the test. Another guy had come in a few minutes later, also to get tested, so she asked me if I could wait so we’d go to the lab together. No problemo. She talked to the other guy while I waited out in the hall. I even remember wondering why his briefing lasted much longer than mine. Probably he was higher risk. Shrug.
So after their talk, she took us down to the lab where the blood extraction was to take place. Big, big issue for me. I’ll tell you all about my fear of needles later. So anyways, I went first. I sat down, closed my eyes and braced myself. “I’m ready!”, I thought to myself. And even before I could bite my lip and think “Stick it! Stick it!”, the nurse said “Ipit…”, to tell me to press the cotton against my skin. It’s over? Geesh… I wasn’t even done with my prayer. One big “Whew!” from me.
From there, the doctor gave me her number and told me to check back with her the following week for the release of the results. I headed home, triumphant, having conquered my fear. Believe me, I had graduation music playing in my head. Not for long.
March Mayhem
March 2008 had not been a very kind month for me. Mostly negative stuff comes to mind.
I had lost my mobile phone to a pickpocket before Holy Week. I spent Holy Week itself just home sulking in the city heat. I had been duped out of more than PhP 20,000.00 of my hard-earned money in what seems to me to be comparable to the Brian Gorrel-DJ Montano tiff. Argh!
The one good thing that may just have happened before the month came to a close was that I'd encountered a hot guy who seemed to be equally interested in me. And I mean sex and beyond. Good enough.
So I decided to just get all of the stress done with this month, and tortured myself into going for voluntary HIV testing. Something I'd been wanting to do for sometime now. First, just to know for sure that I was negative (or so I thought), and second, just to follow through with my interest in this new March guy and give myself to him purely and completely (again, so I thought).
I actually had my blood extracted on the 31st, the last day of my hell of a month.
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