PGH with a capital ACHE!

I met a new friend at Yoga for Life quite recently. Despite starting from zero, and being almost a whole generation away from each other, we clicked. Blame location, blame the zodiac, blame Chinese astrology, we just clicked.

So I swore I’d take care of him, as a friend and as a newbie to the HIV scene.

So we were headed home from yoga one Wednesday when he mentioned he was going to PGH for his lab tests the next day. He asked what I was going to be doing. Work as usual. Hey, I’d be a newbie to PGH as well, right? “Sayang, magpapasama sana ako...” and he laughs it off. I didn’t.

The following day, I left the house at 7:00 am as usual. But whether I was going to work or going to accompany someone to PGH was still undecided. Deep inside I knew I wanted to go with him to PGH. I honestly did. He was just hesitant to have me take a leave just for him. If hiya was all it was, then darn. So I decided. I would go with him.

After scurrying about with last minute plans, which entailed a misunderstanding as to where we were meeting, we finally caught up, as his sweet smile and thanks told me I made the right decision.

We took a familiar route, one that I took to the Social Hygiene Clinic in Manila, and the same one I used to take when I used to date someone who lived in Sta. Cruz. A jeepney ride, and a short LRT trip to Pedro Gil Station, and we were at PGH. It wasn’t my first time at PGH, I’d been there for a meeting before. But for medical services? Never. Here goes nothing.

He suddenly realized he didn’t seem to have his lab requests with him. No problem, right? I’d just ask Ate for another set, and that would be that. So we headed to the Infectious Diseases Section (IDS) and knocked on the door. A nurse opened the door, and greeted us, but not so warmly. She was short of asking who the hell are you and what are you doing here. PMS, teh? Okay, stay cool.

So he relayed his problem. And with a furious frown and clearly peeved, she told us to wait outside for the doctor. Hmm. I had to ask, is this nurse always this bitchy? I could not help compare to how Ate takes care of us at RITM.

So we sat along the corridor for a good half hour. We talked about anything and everything, thankful that neither of us had to experience such a thing alone. We fidgeted in each other’s bags, for fans, clothes and books... Good enough as we found his lab requests hidden under all his stuff. Whew!

So we walked down to the cashier and lined up. At the window, we got asked about a Blue or White Card. What card?! I just answered that we came from the IDS. The cashier mentioned something about Charity, and I just thought, okay, if you say so.

From there we walked a short way to the Express Laboratory. But only to get pointed to another lab, Laboratory Info on the second floor. Then we were pointed to the OPD Lab in a whole other building. We managed to walk the whole PGH block to the Faura end, near the Supreme Court. It was the building that housed the OPD. Made sense, at RITM, we were at the OPD department as well.

Inside, gasp! Long lines, hot air and dismal faces. And not just any lines. You were supposed to line up to get a schedule, and come back another day for the actual test. Seriously?! We walked back to the IDS to ask. That just couldn’t be right.

Nurse PMS opened up again. Fine, she was calmer this time. Apparently, we had gone to Charity indeed, which explained the long lines. We were ushered back to the Express Lab. There, we were told we had paid the Charity rate. So once again, we had to line up at the cashier to pay for the upgrade to the Express rate. And again, back to the Express Lab.

So apparently, only blood tests could be done there. No sputum tests. No x-rays. Fine, fine. He took a seat. Before he got pricked, the nurse asked what he was getting the tests for. He hesitated, so I just answered we came from IDS, hoping that she’d understand without us having to spell it out. But she continued to badger. Was this for employment? A check up? Close tayo, teh? I was fed up. Just blurt it out. You want to know? Fine. He said HIV. Happy now? She went on telling my friend not to be too paranoid about the tests and all... Hmmm, free counseling I see. Interesting.

From there, we were pointed to the x-ray section, where we were pointed once again to the OPD building. We got there and it was closed for lunch. Let’s try the sputum.
We headed back to the IDS to ask where we were supposed to go, and nursey pointed us to another section, Lab Info, the same one we passed earlier. Okay, we were really making the rounds.

So apparently, we again weren’t charged the right rate at the cashier, so we’d have to line up. Again. At that point it was noon, and we gave up. He needed to be somewhere after lunch. We agreed that at least we got most of his tests done. And at least we got to tour the PGH, albeit mostly unnecessary, but together.

From there, we had a well-deserved lunch, just some pasta and chicken at McDonalds across the street. Remember, he had been fasting since the night before for his blood tests. So I’m sure he was happy.

We were both skins sweaty, both bodies tired, both legs aching, both tummies finally full, and it was time to go. From there, we were off. He was on his way to school – yes, school – he was enrolling that afternoon... and I was on my way home.

PGH was an experience. It was a long arduous day. But it was a good one. I got to spend the day with my favorite new person. He was happy not having to go through all that alone. And I was happy that he was happy. And I apologize in advance, but let me just say, at the end of the day, I was happy I was with RITM.

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Three Cheers to Three Years

It’s April. In the snap of a finger, the first quarter of the year just passed. And in a snap of the finger and all the knuckles of a hand, it’s been just over three years since I got myself tested for HIV. Well, whaddaya know?! Three frickin’ years?! Imagine?!

Yes, yes, yes. I think I’ve told this story a number of times already before, but please bear with my reminiscing.

I recall it was the last day of March 2008. It was supposedly the last day the Manila Social Hygiene Clinic was to offer free HIV testing. And just in time, I had gathered all the guts I had to drag myself there to get tested. And like you may already know, I had scouted out the place some days before, meaning to get tested, but chickened out at the last minute.

The second time proved to be a charm. I guess the end of March deadline was the push I needed. I am a crammer, after all. I mean I was still nervous as hell just walking there, let alone getting tested. But I have no regrets getting tested. At all. I got my results two weeks after, in mid-April.

So I tested positive. Oh well. I was fortunate that I was up for the challenge of living with HIV, which really proved not to be as much of a challenge as I‘d expected. I was curious, open, forgiving, and just ready to delve into unknown and unfamiliar territory, and I guess that helped in the adjustment period. A short learning curve before I could say to myself proudly, “Yep, I have HIV, no big deal“.

Even now, three years later, it’s not at all the big deal everyone expects. I’m still not going to die. It’s still not going to kill me. I’ll still be okay. But of course, I can only say all that because I got tested. Because I know that I am HIV positive. And I know what I have to do to take care of myself. That makes things alright.

In the span of three years, I have never been hospitalized for anything. Well, actually, it’s never happened in my lifetime, except if you count birth and circumcision. These past three years have been almost normal. So if HIV were a battle, then I’m successfully keeping the enemy at bay.

Three years. Geesh. It’s been a while, huh? But what’s changed? Well, of course I‘ve been taking anti-retroviral drugs or ARVs, for almost three years as well. It’s a daily habit, much like drinking multi-vitamins. I’m consciously keeping away from food with raw meats and fish, which I never really crave for anyway. Other than that, I’m not giving myself special treatment.

I am still working, in a field that got presented to me BECAUSE I was HIV-positive. As in, had I not been HIV-positive, I would probably not have started blogging, and would not have gotten the opportunity to write for the advocacy called Positivism, and would not even have gotten the chance to dare to delve into the industry I’m in now. So I can say I thank HIV for that. Interesting, huh?

I also have HIV to thank for some of the friends I have. My BFF. My pozzie posse. The rest of the positive community. The HIV advocates. The Yoga for Life community. I was telling W the other day that I would probably be a totally, totally different person on a totally, totally, different path in a totally, totally different place, had I not been diagnosed with HIV. I mean, I’m still me, but different. Am I making any sense? Bottom line, I have no regrets. I’m glad that three years ago I got tested.

Oh, speaking of tests… let me segue.

I haven’t told you yet, but I got my first CD4 test for this year. I was actually supposed to have it done February, but then I was informed that there was no reagent available to run the CD4 test. So I had to wait. As March came, I got the go signal. So in early March, I scheduled a trip to RITM with W. He was having his CD4 done too, along with all the other blood tests like the CBC and blood chem.

Funnily, I realized I fasted since the night before unnecessarily, since I wasn’t having a blood chem done. I pretended I was merely sympathizing with W’s own fasting. Hehe. Getting to RITM, there was no one at the clinic. It was past 8:00 am, and that was unusual. We headed to the back office, and were told that everyone was attending a seminar that week. Ah, okay. And skeletal force was late?! Argh.

After waiting a while, we decided to go back to the clinic. The nurse was already there, and so were a lot of other clients. Hmm, and we weren’t told. Gee thanks.

This was supposed to be a long story. Long, because the nurse on duty was all flustered, confused, overwhelmed and unfocused, probably because there were so many people there, but if you ask me, she was just plain unorganized and unsystematic. To cut the long story short, all I needed was a CD4 count and a med refill, and yet it took me till past 11:00 am. Geez. I swear, I was at the end of my patient nerve.

I waited for so long that I had time to think about how my last six months were, which could determine how I’d do at my CD4. That meant August to February. In that span, I stressed over Christmas, I lost my job, started a new and more stressful one, and so on and so forth. Sounded bad. But this was also the first full six months that I had been doing yoga as much as twice a week. That may have evened out the odds. So maybe I should think about what I’d been up to immediately prior to getting the test.

Well, the day before, which was a Wednesday, I was working stressed as usual. Bad. But it was yoga night, too. Good. But I slept late and got just about 5 hours of sleep. Terrible. But only because I had some safe mind-blowing sex that evening. Great. Still had no clue. No choice but to wait for the verdict.

Luckily, my calf-caressing friend went to RITM the following day. I texted him for the favor of asking what my result was. Back tracking, if you recall, I had just recovered from a CD4 yoyo of 493 - 447 - 493. Being up and down and all around was no pattern to expect. So when calf-caresser texted, I was shocked. My result was… 646. Whoa! Up 153?! I was in disbelief, honestly.

I was as a point where I thought the 500 mark was just taunting me. I’d been so close, so close. So to absolutely hurdle the whole 500 range was amazing! I’m happy. I officially now have a CD4 count of a normal, non-HIV-positive person. Kewl. I need to keep up with what good I’d been doing. Religiously drinking my ARVs. Of course. Doing yoga. Definitely. Having mind-blowing safe sex. Perfect. And just being optimistic and happy. Easier said than done, but the least I can do is try.

Great news without the April fools! Three cheers!

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Holiday Count Down

The eve of Christmas, mass and dinner with my mom’s side of the family. And on Christmas itself, home recovering from the holiday stress. And then back to work for the few days before the turn of the year. That’s how it’s been in previous years. But this year was quite different. Good or bad? Let’s see.

The eve of Christmas was still marked off for the family. But more than my being stranded between the generations, this year I’d be the star. Oh wait, more like I’d have the star. The Li’l Bastard was to make his first appearance as the family’s new bunso at his first Christmas. He was dressed in a little grey shirt with blue piping that matched my own outfit. New places and new faces, kept him quite overwhelmed.

I successfully weaseled out of mass since pets aren’t allowed in the chapel. So we walked around the village to while away the time. Then it was time for a change of costume, as Santa Paws of course! Yes, the Li’l Bastard loves to dress up. And naturally, he became center of attention, the fashionable little whiny pup that always had his left paw up like a limp-wristed twink. Hahaha. Oh well. Mana mana.

By the end of the evening, I was just glad Christmas only happens once a year. Oi, pardon me for thinking that way as early as Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day, I had planned to stay home. But no. I had find internet access because I had work to do. Work?! I knowwwww! Work! So I spent the morning in a coffee shop at the mall, stalling enough through my iced mocha to get everything done. And then I headed back in time for lunch and to spend some home time.

The 26th and 27th continued in the same fashion. No plans, just rest. I did go out for a while to bump into a former college professor of mine to catch up on stuff over a couple of beers, but that was it. Recharge. Recharge.

I had the 28th planned out. I badly needed to go to RITM for med refill… as in two weeks ago. I had already borrowed a month’s supply of ARVs from W, with whom I share the same combination. So like a workday, I left the house at 7:00 am, but this time braved the MRT. Thankfully, it wasn’t as jam-packed as the usual workday rush hour. I actually got to RITM in under an hour, which I found amazing.

There, I texted an online friend. We were eyeballing. Meeting was easy since there were just two of us there at the clinic that early. We talked a bit. He told me about deciding to get tested after noticing he was getting sick a lot, and because he had come from a relationship with a particularly promiscuous guy. I found that amazing that he instantly thought HIV may be the culprit, not your normal reaction. He was barely a month on ARVs, and was there to complete some other baseline tests.

Ate came in and arranged for my refill. Leafing through my records, she pointed out some results. My viral load. The viral load is a quantitative measure of the HIV virus in the blood. The lower that is, the better. I’d never seen my results before. Apparently, my viral load, which is measured annually, has been UNDETECTABLE both in 2009 and 2010. I know I should’ve been jumping for joy, but I was probably in disbelief. Really?! Then my lifestyle, the medicines, and the yoga are working that well. Wow, well I’ll take that.

I left my new friend at the clinic while I went to the pharmacy. Mission accomplished. Ate also sent me to the back office, to submit some stuff for Philhealth. Oi, Philhealth is a long story...

So anyway, that done, I tagged along with my new friend for his errands. Back at the clinic, we caught the other nurse, Ate S. While figuring out my friend’s ARVs, she mentioned they’d started ARVs at the same time. Say what?! Sa kanya ako nahawa eh! I was aghast. Did they have unprotected sex? Did we have a pusit nurse all along?

Well, not quite. Apparently, Ate S suffered from an accidental needle prick injury while administering a PPD test to my friend on a previous visit. So however small the risk, she needed to have a prophylaxis, which meant a month of the very ARVs we‘re taking, just as a precaution. Talk about immersing yourself in the patient’s world, huh? A firsthand experience of ARVs. Not everyone can claim that. But she was in good spirits and was already joking about it.

Oh, and Ate S’ short stint with the RITM is about to end. She said she’d no longer be with us in 2011. Nope, nothing to do with the accident. She’s going to go to med school. I was saddened by the news a bit, she grew into such a competent nurse for us, but I know it’s for the best. You’ll never know, she might come back as our Doc S someday. Hmmm.

From there, we headed off and had lunch at the mall. An early lunch, he was, after all, coming from fasting for all his blood tests. From there, I headed back home to prepare to spend the afternoon with the hubby. Mmm.

Wednesday, the 29th, was Yoga for Life day as usual. But just after lunch, I was off on a mission in Manila. BFF and I met up and took the LRT to Tayuman. We walked a couple of blocks, and finally found our destination. YAFA. Youth AIDS Filipinas Alliance, an HIV advocacy group.

We found the address, but weren’t sure, since it didn’t look right. We knocked. The door was unlocked and opened up to a stairway. We walked up. Tao po? Someone walked out in just his underwear. Oh, welcoming committee? Hehe. Well, we seemed to catch them at the least perfect time. Let’s put things in context, they had scheduled a general cleaning that day, and there was a power interruption, thus, the outfit, or lack thereof.

As soon as they gathered their composure, we got the honor of sitting down with the famous DyingYoung. He told us all about YAFA, and BFF was able to ask his questions about one of their projects. It was actually very interesting, and reinforced the respect I have for YAFA. For such a young group, they’ve really been making waves.

From there, I got BFF to accompany me to the Manila Social Hygiene Clinic. It’s maybe been more than a year since I was last there. Nurse Malou Tan is no longer connected to the SHC. But I got to see Dra. Diana Mendoza, rebond and all. I don’t even think she remembered my name. I left some Positivism brochures with her and asked how the SHC was doing.

They still have free HIV rapid testing there at the Manila SHC, so she asked that we refer people to them for screening. They’re open Mondays to Thursdays, 8:00 am to 3:00 pm, and Friday mornings till noon.

And from there, we took the LRT-MRT route to Ortigas. After a quick snack in Shangrila, we headed to yoga early. Yoga was special today. A hundred and eight sun salutations. Yes, 108 forward bends, halfway lifts, pushups down, and upward- & downward-facing dogs. Was I confident I could do it? Not particularly. But I was going to try. And try I did.

After it all, up to today, two days after, biceps and triceps, quads and calves, back and chest, basically from the top of my neck to the soles of my feet, I’m sore. Sore in a good way. And the fulfillment of getting through the 108 sun salutations is phenomenal. Roarrrrr!

So that was my itinerary for the week leading up to the turn of the year. Sounds like a lot for just a week, especially for me. If that’s going to set the stage for 2011, then it’s going to be a busy one. Bring it on. Bring it on. With that, I hope everyone has all their fingers intact, and had a very Happy New Year. It's 1-1-11. Nagpaputok ka ba?

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Goodbye for Now

Every time I hear that a fellow pozzie passes away, I just thank the heavens that it’s not anyone I know personally, especially not one of my poz posse. I know it’s harsh to think that way, but I won’t lie. And every time, I wonder how it would feel if it was one of my little poz family to go. It’s a question I can’t answer, or am just avoiding altogether. But it is bound to happen. It has always been bound to happen. And recently, it just did. I lost someone from my pozzie family.

It was Monday early morning, around 1:00 am I think. I awoke to my mobile phone ringing. I was still groggy and actually missed the call. I tried to peek through blurry eyes at who called, and realized I had an unread message as well. It was E. Bitch, patay na si Papi. Nasaksak siya. What the?! He must be kidding. E can be such a joker.

Then my phone began ringing again. It was E’s kid, Lil Jenny’s boyfriend. I answered. I sensed panic in his voice. He told me to remain calm. Wala na si Papi. I sighed deeply. He passed the phone to Lil Jenny, who was sobbing. Mami, wala na si Papi. Shit... so is it true?

I don’t know how exactly I felt. I was probably overcome with shock. But hearing the panic and grief on the other side of the line, I needed to remain calm and strong, even though my mind was reeling. I thanked them for the info, told them to relax, and said goodbye. I needed to let it sink in.

The phone rang again, and it was my other kid, RedAppleBlackMark. He said the same thing. Hearing it thrice was enough. This would’ve been too much of a conspiracy if it wasn’t true.

Papi’s gone. Papi’s gone.

Apparently, he was defending his brother against a group of guys. Then it happened. He got stabbed. Twice. Even his current boyfriend, who was with him, got stabbed. Papi didn’t even make it to the hospital alive. Thankfully, his boyfriend did.

It’s not easy to explain how I felt. I was asking myself how the hell it happened. Why the hell it happened. I blame him and his confrontational nature. But why didn’t anyone try to stop him? But that’s that. Not something I can control.

I wasn’t crying. I just might not really be the crying type. Even when my own father died six years ago, I didn’t shed more than a tear. Was I sad? Of course. Sad but not crying. Yes, it’s possible.

I won’t deny that it dawned on me that he never granted me the closure I wanted back when things between us got complicated. Why didn’t I see his confrontational self when I needed it then? He left me to my own capacities to get over things, live with unanswered questions and just move on. Good thing I did, eventually. Civil, but he and I knew things changed between us.

So I was questioning, I was introspecting, I was reminiscing, I was blaming. Even though everyone expected me to be distraught and grieving.

Honestly, I wondered if I deserved the concern people were giving me. Remember, I’m no longer the boyfriend. He is still Papi, but he is not my papi. I no longer have the privilege of acting like I got widowed.

I texted my BFF, GreenFrog, asking if he was up. Thankfully, he was. I messaged him about what was up. He suggested we talk over the phone, so he called. We discussed it, and like me, he was shocked, probably even more than I was. While we were talking, he got online and stalked Facebook. Even more confirmations. It wasn’t just my imagination. Papi’s dead. Papi’s dead.

We had talked. We had vented. But really, there was nothing that we could do. So we bade each other goodbye, and I tried my hardest to go back to sleep. A feat after all that, but I had to wake up for work in a few hours.

Waking up, I knew what had happened the night before. But I was busy. It was Monday. I needed to prepare for work. Me and my routines keep me sane. It wasn’t until I was in the bus, stuck in traffic, left with hours of time to think, that it hit me. I was tearing up, trying hard not to lose it. I don’t know what was running through my head. Probably just me still hoping that he was just happy. Argh.

That evening, I decided to go to the wake. I was glad not to have to go alone. I had BFF, W, and O and his boyfriend with me. We took the trip down south, bonded over dinner on the way, and made it. Here goes nothing.

It was a small chapel in the church compound of the village. I was surprised a bit. Less glamorous than the royalty Papi always seemed to exude. A banner that said Official NBI Morgue... must be that way for murder cases. Why’d he have to beat us to the grave? And so close to Christmas? At such an unholy hour?! And on a Sunday?!?! Geesh, always the center of attention. Oh boy, I was really distracting myself, wasn’t I?

So we walked up to the casket, and took a look. I was aloof, as usual. I didn’t need to say anything. I’m sure Papi knew what was running through my head right then and there. He looked alright. His vain self would’ve been happy. I gave him a secret smirk which said, hey, I’m here, long time no see, we have a lot of catching up to do. I think I wasn’t sad because I felt he was in a happy place. I felt he was happy to see so many people cared.

Walking away, we greeted some fellow RITM peeps - and there were a lot, mind you. Ate was there. My eldest kiddo. Y too. And so many others. Papi was a loss to the HIV community. He was ever present whenever there’d be a gathering at RITM. Even more present than I was, for sure. So much so, he was probably the one who qualified most to be an honorary pusit. And he would’ve been proud.

I always wondered why he got so attached to the positive community of RITM. I remember he told me he got himself tested at RITM for the first time in a long while back in 2008. And though he turned out negative, he developed an affinity to the people he happened to meet then. And ever since, he never got the positive community out of his system. A negative attracted to the positives. Just how a magnet says it’s supposed to be.

Even in the advent of death, it’s never too late to say thank you. So I will. Thank you for the smiles. Thank you for the laughter. Thank you for that one fateful date. Thank you for laughing your ass off with me at Kimmy Dora standing at the back of the movie house. Thank you for the hugs. Thank you for the kiss and the kisses. Thank you for being my first “relationship” since finding out I was HIV-positive. Thank you for reintroducing me to the roller coaster of love. Thank you for saying you’d love me forever no matter what. Thank you for introducing me to the person who became my BFF. Thank you for being the Papi of the family. Thank you for the friendship. Thank you for sharing your life with me.

Life. You never know how it’s going to go. Too soon, they say. Too soon. So the world lost a life. I lost my first official pozzie, though just honorary. He was a couple’s son, a sibling’s brother, a friend’s friend, a stranger’s neighbor, a lover’s lover, a cause’s advocate, my posse’s daddy... and my Papi.

So long Papi. With no tears, all smiles. Goodbye for now. I’ll see you soon...

R.I.P
Papi
June 1972 - December 2010

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A Good Night

Last night. Saturday night. I got a birthday invite. Not just from one, but two people. A joint birthday bash. Two people I knew, and hadn’t seen for a while. This was the chance to. The perfect excuse to finally show up at a pusit party. Should I, or should I not? How sure am I that this is going to prove to be a good night? I’m not. But...

I don’t usually like going to pusit gatherings like these, mostly because of the possibility of seeing some... uhm... nega-monsters.

Nega-monsters. My term for a few pusits who are just swimming in so much bitterness that they’re just out to nitpick at everyone who crosses their paths - devoid of any wit, sense or reason - as though they’re perfect and actually have a hand in the lives of everyone else. Nega-monsters. Ironic how someone who is “positive” can be so negative. Ugh.

Of course, there’s a lot to nitpick about me, but then I never claimed to be perfect. But then again, it’s my life, right? And these nega-monsters have been out to get me and some of my friends. Not our fault, they just don’t have lives of their own. And I choose my battles, and these nega-monsters have never been worth one.

With that, I choose to avoid any possibility of encountering these negativities, not participating in some of these gatherings at the risk of appearing elitist, snooty and anti-social. I’m just not the type to care if others think that way.

So with this opportunity to celebrate another year for two friends, and the assurance that nega-monsters weren’t invited, I seriously considered and reconsidered going.

Saturday night, I found myself on the way up north, with BFF and O. After around two hours on the road, we got there, almost exactly on call time, but still early as just the second group to arrive. The celebrants were there already plus a couple of familiar faces. And as the rest of the group showed up, sans the fact of being an hour or so late, it struck me that that night was going to be a good night.

Primarily, there were no nega-monsters. That in itself was reason to party. Other than that, Ate showed up with some other staff of the RITM. Perfect. I always thought having authority figures at times like these will mean that things will be kept in check. Of the 30 or so people there, I only hadn’t been acquainted with less than a handful maybe. For me, that means a bit of a comfort zone.

A group of pusits who prefer not to call themselves pusits was there, but in all fairness they were the ones I didn’t have problems with... not so much at least. Mr. Mouth was there, flaunting his gift of gab as usual, but thankfully this time, not anywhere in my direction, so he was okay. Not a problem.

Another set of people, I knew from the empowerment seminar I attended several months ago. A majority of our batch was there actually. Some sort of a mini-reunion after months of not seeing most of them.

But really, the biggest surprise was the little pozzie posse I fell into since about a year ago. Roll call?

There were four of my “kids”; the first ever person I brought to RITM, LittleJenny, and RedAppleBlackMark, and my adopted kid Positive'sStory. There was one of E’s “kids”, who I surrogated and who just happened to currently be LittleJenny’s beau, making him an in-law. Some friends LuckyTrese, O, and BruceKho. Papi was there, as well as one of his “kids”, who just happened to be LuckyTrese’s ahem-ahem. And my friendly neighborhood BFF, GreenFrog, of course. I was missing a couple of people though, W and E. And maybe my “dad”, U, who technically is part of the family.

But twelve of us there made it one hell of a reunion. A reunion because it’s been a while since I last saw some of them. The only ones I would regularly are those who attend Yoga for Life. Other than that, being busy with each one’s lives has been keeping us apart. And quite frankly, I’m sort of happy that we didn’t see each other a lot.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not about me not wanting to see them. I’m happy because that just means everyone’s busy with their lives. Busy being productive. Busy with their own families. Busy with their personal lives maybe. Just basically being busy going on with life, sans the HIV-positive part. Busy proving that life goes on. Perfect.

But despite this apparent retreat from the posse, we still know we’re all just around, and we still love seeing each other every time we do. Sort of like we move in our own little circles but still gravitate towards each other somehow, like the planets to the sun. The bond remains, if not gets stronger. Absence, fonder.

Also funny that night, I realized that most of the posse I haven’t even known for a full year. But I’m pretty sure there’ll be more years to come. I don’t believe that it’s the HIV that’s keeping us together. It’s more like HIV brought us together, but it’s something else that’s keeping us tight. Jiving personalities maybe. The overall good vibe. Whatever it is, heaven knows.

And so with that, that night was indeed a good night. Even if I had to leave my little bastard at home. Even if I made the boyfie sad at the fact that I chose my friends over him for that night... he was extremely understanding but I’ll make it up to him. Even if I’m still reeling from lack of sleep right now. Even if there was that one parlor game that led to a hair-raising and spine-tingling mishap... not my mishap, but my hair raising and spine tingling. Even if, even if, even if... Last night truly, truly was a good night.

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Money Matters

I’ve been feeling a financial crunch lately - on a personal level, that is. Right now, I have less than PhP 200.00 in my wallet. That’s pretty decent on a regular day. But it’s a weekend. And even before the gimmick worthy night creeps in, I’m already concerned. We usually have lunch out at work every Friday. So I’ve been forced to feign a diet and watch what I eat. Not for the calories, but for the pesos I’ll be spending.

Oi. Money. They say it makes the world go ‘round. If there’s any truth to that, then my world is coming to a screeching halt.

Okay fine, I’m not really that broke. It’s just that for my last few paydays, I seem to have racked up a good amount of expenses. Let’s do some accounting.

Naturally, daily expenses are there. Commutes to and from work, meals and other incidentals at work are staples. If only I could stop at staples. There are the monthly bills to pay, of course. But wait, there’s more!

The first spend that I remember is also the most remarkable. Christmas. I’m not excited, but a sale makes it too easy. This early, I’ve bought Christmas gifts for both my mom and myself. Remarkable, I say, because buying an LCD television for each of us isn’t a joke. One of the rare times I’ve allowed myself to eat into my savings. I rationalize it with the sale price, the savings on electricity I stand to gain, and the look of disbelief on my mom’s face when her least successful child offers to pay for a little bit of luxury. Hehehe.

And then there are all those tests I needed to pay for when I last paid RITM a visit for my CD4 count. Over PhP 2,000.00 worth, and I’m not even done yet. They say I need to go back for a repeat of my RPR to check if my syphilis is indeed still active. Argh. Another thousand there.Recently, I offered to shoulder medications for someone confined at the RITM. Considering it wasn’t anyone I knew, I really didn’t need to help. But the way Ate pulled me aside and told me how this person’s mother would choose walk to and from the drugstore every day just to save on fare, my heartstrings were pulled. With an unexpectedly small amount, I was able to cover her needs for a month. At least, her mom can lay off the walkathon for a month.

My exercise regimen is something I’ve added. There’s Yoga for Life. Of course, the sessions are really free, but any donations are used to shoulder the cost of the venue. Indigent students aren’t expected to donate if they can’t. But then, HELLO! I’ve got my pride. I am NOT indigent. So I give what I can to shoulder my share. Take that! Oh, and I have been in the process of putting together some way to work out at home. I have my yoga mat, a bench, and my first installment of dumbbells. Slowly but surely, so the costs come slowly as well. Hehe.

My little Bastard is another factor. It’s like having a kid. I get carried away shopping for stuff for him. A cage, food, toiletries, pee & poop pads, leashes & collars, a little carry bag, and lots of toys. And it’s depressing when he foregoes his toys to play with the plastic bag. Argh.

And as my first official dog, I’ve made it a point to get friendly with a vet for him. All the consultations, vitamins and shots really rack up as well. Good thing he got his last set of shots last week. Whew. He’s good till next year, we just gotta keep him healthy. It’s bad enough that I wasn’t careful enough to keep my own doctor away, so I’m bringing him up the right way now. Yep, even in the canine world, prevention is better than the cure.

And then of course, we cannot forget this little relationship that I’m in. I don’t know if I speak for anyone else, but dating can be expensive. Especially for me, since I’m coupled with someone who won’t let a week pass without seeing me at least twice. The dinners and movies are fun, but then he’s not the eat-just-anywhere type. He needs restaurants with decent food and excellent service, which means no Burger Machines and Aling Nena‘s Carinderias. But neither am I the freeloading type. I pay for my fair share of the tab. Yep, that’s proud little me.

So there. I’m maxed out. Well I’m not exactly broke. It’s my miserly fault too for doing everything in my power not to touch what I already have in savings.

So at this point, I need to beg. From you. From anyone out there. Not for myself, but for my beneficiary at the RITM I mentioned earlier. She’s confined right now, and is on medication for six months. A cocktail of medicines for some sort of respiratory infection, I think. Based on the per piece prices I got at the Generics Pharmacy, here’s the damage:
~ Rifampicin, 450 mg - PhP 8.25
~ Isoniazid, 300 mg - PhP 1.30
~ Ethambutol, 2 x 200 mg - PhP 4.20 each
~ PZA or P2A, 500 mg - PhP 3.50

Sorry, I’m just reading off the prescription Ate wrote out for me. So this is her daily regimen, which racks up to just a bit over PhP 20.00 a day. Not bad for us who are financially able. Compare that to some of our daily luxuries, right? But the reality of things is that one trip through Starbucks can already mean about a week of life to some who really need it.

So with that, I’d like to once again extend my plea to those of you who’d like to help. Please, please, please? Don’t hesitate to get in touch with me if you already know my contact, or via e-mail, pinoycumeater@yahoo.com.

For now, I remain budget conscious myself, and will draw upon the easy-to-please side of me. But I’ll be trying to do what I can as well. Thank heavens it was payday yesterday. Because money or not, the world will - and should - continue to go ‘round.

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The Verdict

It’s that time of year again. It’s been a long awaited day.

Long due, and long overdue even.

I‘m kinda excited, yes. But with a tinge of anxiety maybe.

It's time. It's time. It’s time to go and get my CD4 count.

I need to have my CD4 count done twice a year, every six months. Supposedly, my schedule is to have it done every February and August. I had been coordinating with a number of people who wanted to tag along with me. There was my calf-caressing friend, who was also due for his CD4 count, and there were two newbies who needed to go to RITM. One needed to get his confirmatory test, while the other already had his confirmatory result with him and was meaning to start his own HIV journey.

If you recall, I got a med refill just in the third week of August. I could have, but purposely didn’t get my CD4 count done that same day just because of the plan we put together. At first, we planned to go on the last Friday of August. Fortunately, I was able to text Ate a couple of days before to advise that I was planning to go. Unfortunately, Ate informed me that they were having problems with the CD4 machine. So I had to call the plan off.

It was a bummer because coordinating four different schedules wasn’t an easy task and at this point all went to waste. Even worse? On the day itself intended to go, Ate texted me that they were able to have the machine fixed. But the advise came only in the afternoon. Too late for the 10:00 am cut off for CD4 batching. Too late as well to even try to salvage our little plan. Argh.

Our little group fell apart. My calf-caressing friend had gone to get his CD4 count alone before I could put together a new plan. One of my newbies couldn’t take a leave from work anytime soon to make the trip. And then there were two. My newbie and I came up with another plan to go September 23rd, a Thursday. We had already both filed our respective leaves from work, and so it was set.

I arrived at the meeting place exactly as planned, 7:00 am at the Ayala MRT station. I was texting constantly with my newbie, and unfortunately, he was running late. It was fine. I sat amidst all the other tambays and waited patiently. In about half an hour, he arrived. Apparently, he had opted to take a cab and got stuck in traffic. Not so bad, there was time to spare, anyway.

So we hopped on a bus to Alabang, as I made sure to point out some landmarks to give him an idea of the route we were taking. We got talking about different things, but nothing too cerebral or serious, as we were both nutritionally challenged and possibly mentally slow, as we had both been fasting wince the evening before in preparation for our blood tests.

We got to RITM past 8:00. We went straight to the clinic. Ate wasn’t there, but our two other nurses were. My purpose there, to get all my tests done, was simple enough. Routine even. But for my newbie, we were really trying to get everything he needed done within the day because it wasn’t easy for him to take leaves from work.

Based on experience, they would have newbies talk with the doctor first, and schedule tests another day. My newbie didn’t have that luxury of time. So I had asked Ate prior to our even planning to go if it would be possible to get everything done in one day. Fortunately, they were willing to give it a shot, with the condition that we show up early, before the cut-off time for the CD4s, and be ready for all the tests, fasting and all.

He sat patiently while waiting for the doctor, while one of our nurses put together all the requests for my blood tests. Apparently, sonce it was the anniversary of my pozzie-ness, a lot of tests would be done in addition to the usual CD4 count, CBC and blood chemistry, especially since my HIV infection came with some “friends“.

First, I needed to get my Hepatitis profile done, apparently to check if my Hepatitis B was still active… although I thought once you had it it’d forever be active. I needed to get a Quantitative RPR done too, to check how my Syphilis infection is doing, or the lack thereof. There were a couple of more tests I needed to pay for. All in all, it totaled to over PhP 2,000.00. Argh. A bit steep, but it was needed and I was prepared.

So took my route through the cashier, to the x-ray section, and onto the lab to have my blood extracted. When my turn came, I tried to make it a good experience, for myself and for everyone. Despite the many times that I’ve had my blood extracted in the past, I’m still not overly excited to have it done. I gave the stack of requests to the med tech on duty, and braced myself.

I joked that my lot of blood tests would seem to correspondingly require a lot of blood. She said it’d take around four vials. Not so bad. So she got going. I turned my head away from the prick as I still get queasy seeing blood flowing. In all fairness, I was able to keep a smile on my face the whole time. It was a mix of thinking positive and feigning courage.

When I was done, I went back to my newbie at the clinic. I passed him at the cashier. Good thing a doctor was on duty that early in the morning. He had already talked with the doctor, and now needed to pay for some of his tests as well. He was actually a bit short in funds, so I lent him some cash. Fortunate that I had enough to be able to. From there, we went to the lab.

Apparently, he was just as bad with needles and blood as I was. Hehehe. I understood completely. I assured him that the med tech on duty was good at what she does. He made it through without problems. Just a bit of stress, that’s all. His x-ray was much easier, of course.

Making it back to the clinic, I got a surprise. They had forgotten one final lab request, one for Hepatitis C. Another prick?! I headed back to the lab. I requested that they allow me to rest a bit before another prick, so they entertained other clients first. The next time they asked if I was ready, I took my seat once again in the pricking chair, ready for another one in the other arm.

I was ready and game, I really was. Fortunately, they said the blood they’d extracted earlier was still enough for the extra test. Though I sighed a sigh of relief, I kidded with the med tech that she missed the chance, considering I was extra generous with blood today. She laughed and retorted the next prick would’ve been one in the jugular. Hehehe. That was fun.

From there, having accomplished everything we needed to do, we headed to Metropolis Star where we were to get a ride back north. We had lunch as well, after deciding we couldn’t last another minute without food. After a quick meal at Jollibee, we were off.

We both were able to nap a bit during the trip back, having been up since so early in the morning. We both got off when we hit Mandaluyong, he to get a ride home, and I to meet up with the hubby in Shangri-la. I accompanied him to have lunch, we had some of our favorite frozen yogurt, and caught a movie... creepy Devil of M. Night Shyamalan. Even though I spent most of the movie with my face buried in his armpit - yes, I’m not so good with horror movies - I’d recommend it.

Oh wait, wait... back to the pertinent issue of the moment. I texted Ate the day after, requesting her to “chismis” our CD4s if and when they became available. She replied promptly. My newbie had a whopping 553. Coolio!

Me? Let’s recap. A year ago, I was at 493. Six months ago, I dropped a bit to 447. And today... the verdict? Drumroll please... 493! Right back where I fell from. Not bad! Now whether I can attribute it to anything from ARVs and stress to love and yoga... only heaven knows. I’m happy. I still want to go past the 500 mark, though. But for now, I’ll take it!

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Self-Empowerment

Self-empowerment? A self-empowerment course? I admit, I was avoiding it. Why? Well, first, all the sharing and public speaking... stage fright galore. And second, I’ve seen the previous batch that supposedly underwent self-empowerment. Didn’t seem like it worked, not for everyone at least. In just the week after they did, all the drama, all the issues, all the arguments, all the bitterness, and all the negativity they were throwing around… even more than before... it made me skeptical of this self-empowerment thing. Seriously.

But thanks to being badgered by BFF and pressured by E, I got convinced to go. But I had a disclaimer beforehand... don’t be surprised if I end up scoffing and rolling my eyes the whole time. And I swore I wouldn’t cry as others had apparently done a lot of in the previous batch. Aside from there really being nothing to cry about, E would be there, and he’d mock me. Of course, I’d gladly do the same to him as well. Hehe.

So Saturday morning, anxious and over-packed as usual, I got schoolbussed to the venue with BFF and another guy by AA, who had attended the previous empowerment session. He told us about their experience, about the sharing and how physically and emotionally draining it would be and all... and already, I was dreading it.

This self-empowerment training had been done several times in the past before, but we were only the second batch since the National AIDS/STD Prevention and Control Program (NASPCP) of the DOH took it under its wing and funded it last month. Previously, it was just a philanthropic venture by volunteers and concerned people.

Getting to the hotel in Manila that would serve as venue, only E wasn’t there yet. The rest were already taking lunch. Passing the public announcement video system at the lobby, it was funny how the sponsors of our event were spelled out explicitly. Department of Health. Research Institute for Tropical Medicine. National Center for Disease Prevention and Control. National AIDS/STD Prevention and Control Program. Okay, a few inches short of disclosure, but fine, but no big deal.

We went up to the function room, signed in, and headed down to attack the buffet. There we found some of the other participants, my eldest kiddo, Lil Jenny, and PositiveEqualsRebirth were the some of the few familiar faces there. It was natural to stick to who you knew. The others were yet to be revealed. E showed up shortly, and we all took our time savoring the buffet of spring rolls, sautéed cabbage, lemon chicken, cream puffs and chocolate brownies.

After that, the training commenced. I’ll try not to make this too much of a spoiler for future attendees of the self-empowerment training, so please bear with me. Led by Doc Rita, who is incidentally the sister of our dear Doctor D at RITM, the session began with introductions all around and a getting-to-know-you activity at the same time. And then it got serious.

Part of getting to know each other was to come from learning about each others’ pasts. And revisiting childhood days, family life, till the present, including the time each one found out he was HIV-positive, was not an easy thing for some. This early, tears were shed. But the air of support, listening and openness we had was a nice ambience to be in for something like this.

It was then that we found how balanced a group we were. Though we were all male and all poz and all RITMers, that’s where the similarities ended. From newbies, months into the HIV journey, to not-so-newbies, already years past. From gay and bi guys, to some who were on the straight road or had vowed celibacy. From those gliding in acceptance, to some still wallowing in confusion, and even one intriguing guy who had gone through years of subscribing to AIDS denialism. Amazing. I was thrilled to meet my first AIDS denialist in person.

This first part took longer than expected. What normally took 3 hours for other groups, took us a record breaking 6½ hours! So record-breaking that we obviously stressed Doc Rita out And our record-breaking streak went on into the following activities. Enhancing self-image. Finding the power in you. Taking control of one’s life. Creating a healthy balance in life. Career planning. Appreciation of others.

So again, I wonder why the self-empowerment seminar didn’t seem to work for some from the last batch. Well, looking back after going through it myself, I realize you’re not expected to leave the seminar empowered. You’re just given the tools to work towards empowerment, and left with some questions for introspection. It will be up to you and what you do with them that will determine whether you get to empowerment or not.

And then, I believe, the foundation for self-empowerment lies in such simple things as openness, self-awareness and self-evaluation. If you’re not open, or are clueless of your concerns or what negativity it is you are feeling and what causes it, then the facilitator won’t be able to give you an objective evaluation of your situation. Am I making sense?

And finally… one last hunch. You know how being with certain friends makes it sometimes harder to be honest about how you really feel? Because they might make fun of you, or they’re fair-weather friends you’re only used to having fun times with?

I also believe that the composition of the group as a whole played a part. Having friends there is nice. But if having friends there makes you too self-conscious that you’d want to hold back information about yourself, then that won’t be a good thing since you won’t be able to paint a clear picture of yourself.

Our batch was not dominated by one single group... I mean, yeah, I was close to E, BFF, and my eldest kiddo among others, but we were a mere fraction of the 16 person group. Plus, we weren’t fair-weather friends nor the types to judge each other. We actually know more than our TMI share about each other. No reputations to ruin, no pride to swallow, no shame to dread.

So there, I think that’s as much as I can reveal. Empowering? Not automatically. But you should have learned something. You should at least come out of it a better person. If you come out even worse than you were going in… more negative, more of a drama queen, more issue-laden... then something definitely went wrong... or something’s wrong with you. So nega-monsters... check yourselves.

Two days, just 6 hours of sleep, a lot of yummy food, and around eighteen hours of seminar later, it was time to go home. Met new friends. Learned new things. Left with some work to do... on myself and on the world. Empowered? I will be. Definitely.

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Mr. Mouth Down South

It was a typical Friday. A hot, humid, but thank-God-it’s-Friday Friday. I got to work early, and was texting with one of my “kids”-to-be. We had been in touch, and I first met him when I invited him for my birthday dinner earlier this month. I had promised to bring him to RITM to be registered, a promise that became urgent Friday as he told me he had a bad cough, a high fever, and was throwing up what he was eating. I was, of course, worried.

So I texted Ate, telling her about his condition, and asking for advice. She told me to bring him in ASAP, so he could be checked and medicated properly, and to make sure he wasn’t getting dehydrated. Okay. Considering it as an emergency, I left work early and met with my newest “kid”-to-be to take the trip to Alabang. It was late afternoon already, and I needed to text Ate that we were on our way, requesting for her to wait for us.

Getting there, we got first dibs with Ate. Seemed like everyone who went for check-ups were done already. The only other people there were those who were going to join the out-of-town for Doc’s birthday. I had no plans of going, first, because I was going to be on call for work this weekend due to an urgent account, and more importantly, a friend was in town from Germany, and we had agreed on this weekend to meet up and...

While my “kid” was in session with the doctor, I was chatting it up with one of the pusettes – female pusit? – someone who I really didn’t know well or talk to a lot, but to whom I made a mark when I gave her what condoms I had the last time I saw her, since she had plans to do “it” with her boyfriend. Hehehe. Funny, she put me on the spot about what happened to me and Papi, something that I myself couldn’t say and didn’t know. So I just told her to ask him herself.

So anyway, another group of guys was in the room, those who were going to Doctora’s birthday thingy. And then it started. I got asked if I was going. And then I got asked why I wasn’t. No, I wasn’t asked, I was attacked... by Mr. Mouth. When Mr. Mouth talks, he... really... talks. Ears bleed.

With a screech of a voice, Mr. Mouth was attacking me about why “we” aren’t participative, asking why “we” were letting off an exclusive and elusive vibe. We? We?! He, of course, was referring to my little pozzie posse. And even as I denied that “we” had any issues with “them”, he just wouldn’t stop badgering, going as far as saying “Eh, baket may chismis?”

Rumors? Oh please, grow up. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. He was getting on my nerves already, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Eh kasi chismosa ka, kaya siguro may chismis.” I was half joking, but half just putting him in his right place.

At that point, I knew I didn’t need to defend myself. I was there to accompany my newbie and nothing else. And if not for this newbie, I wouldn’t even be there on that day and at that time in the first place. I would be working. So I focused on my newbie and just let the freakish voice go in one ear and out the other.

Our group? My pozzie posse? What’s the issue? While our “group” is a group, we are individuals. We are not clones of each other. We each have a mind to make decisions. We do not need to conspire about who and what we like. Each is entitled to his own opinions. Now if we just happened to not be at a certain event at the same time, or not be particularly drawn to the same person, it’s all coincidence.

The truth was, I did know that at least two of us were going, E and my eldest pozzie kid. But, again, I didn’t need to defend myself with that fact. The same way he didn’t need to insinuate his baseless accusations.

So just shut the hell up, Mr. Mouth. And as for the intrigues, cut your crap. Get a life... a life of your own. Consider this: the world does not revolve around you. If you think we have issues with you or whoever, then that’s your issue. You deal with it.

Wow, I was amazed. This person actually had the gall to show that he thought everything was about him. I won’t even hope that his “group” thinks the same way, or that he was speaking on their behalf. Everything was just about him, and “his group”. Amazing, amazing, amazing. So maybe that’s the problem? Is it just me, or does anyone else have issues with attention whores?

Anyhoo, from there, I managed to escape the clutches of Mr. Mouth. Away from the south, and away from the mouth, my new bunso and I headed off back north. He was just advised to stop what medication he was taking, try to rustle up a nebulizer in the meantime, and go back this coming week for his baseline tests.

As for me, I purged the negativity that I got showered with at the RITM, and just focused on staying positive for my newbie. And as for Mr. Mouth, I don’t look forward to seeing him again... or hearing him again for that matter. Here’s my foot... shove it. Oh, on second thought, EWWWWW. I wouldn't want to get my foot dirty. He can use his own.

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Missions Accomplished

It’s been another busy weekend. A long weekend, but a busy one.

May 3rd is a holiday here, a resched of labor day. But like a three-day weekend wasn’t enough, I decided to take the day off from work Friday.

So it was a really long weekend. A really long weekend, but a busy one. Missions abound.

E was planning to go to the RITM April birthday bash, and bugged me to go as well. You see, he doesn’t go to gatherings like this much. And if he’s like me by virtue of being my friend, having a comfort zone of familiar faces there makes it much easier. I was to be one of those familiar faces, I assume.

So three birds with one stone. Socialize, of course. Possibly considering have this nagging cough of mine checked up. And was also going to leave with Ate the stash of Neurobion and Celecoxib meds for the pusit who needed help. Thanks Myke and Moi!

I got a haircut, took the MRT to Ayala Station, and with my share of the potluck, Malabon’s pride sapin-sapin, took a bus to Alabang. I successfully bypassed having to wait in line for a minivan to RITM, only to realize I wasn’t late after all.

Walking into the back office, I didn’t recognize anyone of the handful already there. I sat down to cool off, and texted PositiveEqualsRebirth. I hadn’t met him yet, but have been chatting with him for some time now, and he said he was planning to go. Soon the door opened, one of my “kids” walked in, RedAppleBlackMark, practically screaming my name.

Embarrassing as that was, good enough as well. It turned out that PositiveEqualsRebirth had apparently been in the room the whole time, and upon recognizing my name, stepped up to introduce himself and his partner who was with him. Finally we’d met. And because, as evident in our online chats, we do share some wavelength, this should be a first of many.

In a while, more familiar faces arrived. Fellow positive bloggers E, LuckyTrese and ImNotDyingImLiving, another of my kids, Little Jenny a.k.a. Jeje, Papi with his friend, and several others I knew. So really, I did have a comfort zone there, and I believe I was less of a wallflower this time. I think… you tell me.

The food was fine: chicharon, pansit, donuts, and a huge cake. The ambience would’ve been okay, if not for one older pusit whose stories of choice dealt with who AIDS killed, who died when, what the person died of, who died next, who’s next in line, etcetera. Who is this a-hole anyway? And he actually claimed to be part of a support group?! Supporting what? Did his support group not teach him that no one dies of AIDS per se?

It would’ve been considerate of him to note that there were relative newbies in the bunch. And yes, we needed to do damage control after. Thanks a lot. Nakikain ka na nga lang, nang-nega ka pa?! I would’ve rather he shut up and started digging his own grave. Agh.

By mid afternoon, the group thinned and it was time to go. I hitched a ride going north, braved an odd summer storm and got stuck in horrendous traffic. Fortunately, we got “forced” by the weather to have dinner as a group, with BFF catching up with us, and having a bit of coffee as a nightcap. Not a bad way to end a long day.

The next day was not to be less “positive”. E invited us over to his place. Oh, no. More like he badgered us. He had been counseling a newbie for some days now, someone still waiting for his HIV test results, but was already sulking in paranoia and being haunted by suicidal tendencies. And E needed reinforcements, lest he get fed up and give the kid a list of ways to take his own life. Yes, patience is not one of E’s strong points. Hehehe.

So O, BFF and I headed there for lunch, picking up newbie and his friend along the way. My eldest “kid” was there too, as well as LuckyTrese. A second batch even arrived after we finished lunch.

So from the trip throughout lunch, we were really showing newbie that life will and does go on. He and his friend were actually in the medical field, but it was a classic case of knowing too much but lacking real world experience and not understanding it all, leaving them just paranoid and negative. So they fielded as much questions as they could, and later on I noticed that they were both lightening up, even immersing themselves in the okray mood of our little group.

From there, we left E around mid-afternoon. I was going to Shang. I had a date… a date with a friend and fellow advocate, so yes, he did know about my status. And BFF, newbie and his friend decided to stalk us. Argh. There wasn’t much to stalk. We weren’t planning on getting busy… just going to hang out over some coffee and stuff. After a couple of hours chatting, my date needed to go and rest after starting his day early, aside from a lack of sleep. Cool with me.

He brought me to the MRT station, where we hugged and headed our separate ways. Shortly, I learned BFF was still in the area with the kids, so I ambushed them at another coffee place. They of course didn’t let me pass without ribbing me about my date… about not being able to wipe the smile off my face and about having an afterglow. Wahaha! Toink!

But seriously, I think it helped newbie boy to see that, yes, we can still have a dating life, even with negatives! During that hour more of us hanging out, it was clear that he was in a more positive mood. And he knew that whatever happens, he wouldn’t need to go through it alone. He had us.

From there, we headed off into the night, BFF and I together. And because BFF and I always have the most perfect dates together, we did not call it a night. We did some catching up and evaluated the weekend together over some dinner first, and then headed home.

Sunday was spent just home, for a change. I was really dead tired already from the past two days, but it was all worth it. A good end to April, and a great start to May. And it wasn’t even all fun and games. Missions accomplished.

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How NOT to Celebrate

I’d been tapping my fingers waiting for mid-April. April 17th. It was to be two years since I got diagnosed with HIV. I always thought I’d treat it as a special day.

Last year, I did have an entry, Happy Positiversary. But this year, as the day came closer, I was having second thoughts. I wasn’t exactly as excited.

Was this really something to celebrate?

April 16th, I had to trek to RITM early in the morning. No choice. I drank the last of my supply of ARVs the day before. I got my meds and hung out with Ate a few minutes as well. My regimen booklet was handed to me as well... it’s this passport-slash-bankbook looking thingy where all the ARVs we get every time are recorded. Apparently, they want us to take responsibility for our own booklets, rather than the old protocol where we’d leave all our booklets with Ate every time. Good luck, hope I don’t ruin it or lose it.

From there, I headed off to work. I rode a bus back to Makati. Nothing special, it was actually hot on the bus, and I fell asleep for most of the trip. When we hit Magallanes, a lot of people got off, including the person beside me and those seated across the aisle from me. Someone walked up from the rear of the bus to take the seat across. And then it started getting weird.

I felt he was looking at me. I had to glance over. It was a guy in a black shirt, nice looking actually. But still couldn’t say for sure if he indeed was looking at me or not, because he had shades on. One reason I hate shades, I never know what someone’s looking at. So anyway, noticing that he’d look away every time I glanced at him, I shrugged it off as nothing.

Ayala turned out to be his stop. He stood to get down, but not before he tapped the headrest of the seat in front of me twice with his fingers. I found it so odd. Was that supposed to mean something? I waited if he’d look back, but he didn’t. Still curious, I drew the curtains aside to see if I could spot him one last time on the street. I did.

I was expecting him to be walking or something, but no. He was standing there, waiting for the bus to pass, looking my way the whole time. I thought to myself, too bad he didn’t make his intentions clearer... I probably won’t ever get the chance to see this guy ever again. The world ain’t that small.

So there. Made it to work, late of course. Oh, but not before getting another pass from a guy on the jeep. Argh. The heavens were taunting me. Fine, so I’m single, but really, must it pour when it rains? Anyway, I’ll take it. The rest of the day was spent at work, plus a dinner meeting for something we’re coming up with hopefully in time for World AIDS Day in December... exciting! No details yet, but the ball has started rolling!

Saturday was gonna be a night. A date night at that. This was someone I had known since before. Had sex on the first date years ago. Wholesome second date in MOA, movie, dinner, walked around and plopped down on the sidewalk for some hours just talking. Simple... simple and nice actually. Then sex again on the third date.

After that, I started avoiding him, mostly because I was dealing with finding out I was HIV positive. He was one of those I advised anonymously to get tested. His persistence to see me again forced me to disclose to him. I don’t remember exactly when I did, but I think it was late last year. Still he was willing to see me. My next reason why I could not see him was that I was dating someone exclusively, which I was.

And now that I am transitioning from a so-called relationship, I have no more excuses. So when he asked to see me, I agreed. Saturday was gonna be a night. The night. The date night.

A date? Big deal?! Well, it was a big deal for me, because it would be my first date since September last year. Yep, that was the last I was ever on a date. Pathetic to think I was actually in a relationship since that time? I know. But again, no regrets. So this was to be a first in 7 months. Kawawa no? Hehe.

So we met in Makati, and watched a movie. I Love Phillip Morris. Not exactly the feel good movie we were expecting. I didn’t know what to think about the part where he gets out of jail by faking his medical records and making it appear that he has AIDS, successfully getting himself into a guinea pig program… and this is supposed to be based on true events?! Toink.

From there, we had dinner at Shakey’s. Penne pasta, a huge salad, and a basket of Mojo potatoes. Yum. Washed down with two pitchers of draft beer? Heavenly. I was bashing him for leaving me to do the eating, while he was bashing me for leaving him to do the drinking. He was actually counting the mugs, forcing me to bottoms up a couple of times just to catch up with him. I, of course, was up for the challenge.

From there, having downed my ARVs. We took a walk along Pasong Tamo to a little open air bar called Obeertime. No, we didn’t go in. We just sat by the pavement across it, talking while watching people pass by. He wanted to take me there initially, but decided on Shakey’s instead, not sure if I’d be comfy in that type of place.

From there, we raided some convenience stores for bottles of water and giant cones of dark chocolate ice cream. Yum. Sat down and talked a bit more. We walked to the next block, which was Buendia already, where we crossed the street to pee... together... in the street. Complete with pee splashing all over each other’s feet. Bwahaha! Not a common thing for someone like me with a shy bladder.

From there we decided to call it a night. Will there be a next date? Well he did ask me when we’d see each other again... So we’ll see.

Sunday was just spent at home resting. The highlight of Sunday came when I happened to open one of my accounts on one of the adult personals sites. I received a message with the subject “I think I saw you.” Creepeh...

Talking about Friday and enumerating every detail of the trip from Alabang, lo and behold, it was from that guy I was riding with on the bus! Bwahaha! I seriously didn’t know what to think... but found myself giving him my number for him to contact me. He had me at “I want a bottom like you.” Hahaha. Haven’t heard from him yet, but plan to disclose anyways before follow-up meet of any sort. Ya know, laying all the cards out onto the table...

So there. My weekend has been busy busy busy. Was it all in celebration of my second year? Hell, no.

Well, it wasn’t that I was suddenly getting all negative about the day I was told I was HIV-positive. It’s more like... okay, I celebrate 1 year, I celebrate 2 years, I celebrate 3... it feels like I’m counting down or something. Hello?! I plan to live much longer, ya know! At this point, I know this HIV thing isn’t a death sentence, so eventually, I’m sure I’ll get tired of counting. So I thought to myself, maybe I should stop counting now, and just live, live and live. So I did. No celebrations. I just lived.

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The Kind of Kindness

If there is any kindness I can show
or any good thing I can do to any fellow being,
let me do it now,
and not deter or neglect it,
as I shall not pass this way again.

- William Penn

Got a text from Papi yesterday, asking for help. Not for him. He wanted to help someone out who was confined at the RITM. Didn’t mention who the person was, what the name was, or what the findings were, but I think what was important was that this person needed help. Papi made clear that it wasn’t a big expense, but that the person was really hard up and could use some help.

I remember how E and I did it for Baby Nathan. We purposely didn’t want to give any cash or hold any cash ourselves from donors, just to eliminate any doubt of where that cash might go. So much intrigues and politics that you gotta deal with just to help a person. But if it makes for less controversies, then I’m all for it.

So I asked Papi for a list of what exactly was needed, which he texted shortly after. I took the initiative to do some research as to what exactly all this stuff was, and passed by a Mercury Drug to ask how much each would cost. Here’s the list.


D5W
D5w is some sort of technical term, which I found out stands for 5% dextrose in water. A 1 litre bottle costs PhP 119.75.

Soluset
This is that tube set for dextrose and intra-venous lines with a clip thingy that’s used to control the flow of the liquids or medicines into the veins. A set costs PhP 338.25.

Insyte (Gauge 22)
I found out this is Peripheral Venous Catheter, whatever that means. When I think catheter, I think “Ouch”. This costs PhP 36.00.

Celecoxib (200 mg)
Web says this is a sulfa non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug. It costs PhP 30.00 each, and he needs 60 pieces.

Neurobion
These are tablets to correct vitamin deficiency. It costs PhP 17.00 each, and he also needs 60 pieces of this.


Aside from these, Papi also mentioned he needs minor stuff like plastic micropore tape, and some daily necessities like food, drinks and actually, some cash for daily expenses.

So there. I’ll try to do what I can. I’m sure Papi’s rallying the troops on his end as well. Like I said, I gave the list for those who would be more comfortable giving in kind. If anyone out there would be willing to help out, let me know. Or if you’re ever in RITM, please coordinate with Ate Ana.

Any help you can give would go a long way, especially if we pool together for this. Give. Spread the word. Pray even. Thanks in advance, on behalf of he or she who needs it.

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The Luck of Sixes

Almost six months of not worrying about it.

Six months of ignoring it.

Six months of not thinking about it.

Six months of taunting it.

So will 6 still prove to be my lucky number? We'll find out soon enough... It's time for my CD4 count again.

Jun 2008: 343. Aug 2008: 328. Feb 2009: 484. Aug 2009: 493. So far, since starting ARVs in August 2008, my numbers had been increasing. Although my last result, an increase of just 9 measly points, seemed to show I had hit a plateau of some sort. Feb 2010 signalled my next count, and I was about to see if I had indeed plateaued. But of course, I would be unable to make that conclusion so easily.

This past six months covering Sep 2009 to Feb 2010 was riddled with so many factors that would make or break my CD4 trend.

Definitely, the period covered getting used to my new job. Hell, until now, I feel like I'm still adjusting to it... and you know how I am with change. And along with that comes wrestling with a longer commute to and from work everyday. Maybe it's not as bad as it can be, because I now opt for the comfort of riding a bus to work in the mornings, and just settle for the stressful yet speedy MRT on the way home in the evenings.

This past six months also stood witness to changes in my former non-existent lovelife. Ahem. Okay, fine. So maybe Papi and I are the least typical of couples you'll ever see. We aren't able to see each other every weekend. We don't see the need to text or talk everyday either. So it's pretty much a low maintenance kind of thing. But then of course, it's been far from perfect. There was that one "it's complicated" incident in January that threw us into the wind. Fine, it broke my heart and I cried that time. But right now it seems worked out.

Being in a relationship and being sexually active with each other also seem like two completely different things for us. With out going into detail... not like there's much to detail in actuality... my sex life for the past five or so months has been more or less confined to my right hand. Hmm. Not exactly how I'd like it, but it ain't exactly killing me. Okay change topic now, please.

This six month period also saw the birth of our little pozzie posse. Pozzie posse meant more gimmicks. Weekends, weekdays... didn't matter. Hanging out in places littered with smokers at times, but with drinking still kept occasional... just that occasions came more frequently. Argh.

Biggest change that the pozzie posse brought is that I had less of my alone time. Less siesta, less sleeping on time, more late nights out. Just this past week, I wasn't getting my full eight hours of sleep for five straight days: Thursday movie date with BFF GreenFrog; Friday late at the RITM with the posse; Saturday dinner, movie and coffee with W, W's newbie, LivingWithHiv and BFF; Sunday dinner with BruskoBoy and BFF; and Monday dinner with BFF and a couple of new couple pozzie friends. Okay maybe you've noticed BFF and I have been hanging out a lot lately... been moonlighting as a marriage counselor lately for him, helping him through the tough times. Oi, that was a stressful role as well. Hahaha.

So anyways, let me make clear that I'm not blaming the pozzie posse for anything. Any late nights and consumed alcohol and stuff was all by my own personal powers and choices. Thank you.

What else? Well, I no longer have the once a week serving of ampalaya that I used to have at my old office. Multivitamins, haven't been drinking them lately. Still recovering from a cold and cough that haunted me for the past two weeks. It's been so bad that I've been putting off getting my CD4 count. Remember, I was supposed to have it in February. I just went for it yesterday, March 2nd. Sort of fooling myself into thinking I could save up some CD4 points maybe. But not after still being pasaway for the past month.

So yesterday, I went. I wasn't alone. I was with W's newbie, Mr. Calf-Caresser, and my latest recruit... my new bunso. Despite knowing I wasn't exactly doing everything I could to raise my CD4 count for the past six months, I was actually excited to know how I did. I felt like I was experimenting to see how all these lifestyle choices would affect my CD4 count. Two words: Guinea Pig. So how exactly would I do? Would I drop some points or not? I could hear the drum roll already.

Good thing we needed to wait to talk to the doctor in the afternoon. I was sitting opposite Ate at her desk, when the curious cat in me took charge. My eyes were leafing through all the papers on her desk, when I recognized my patient code... Were these the results of the CD4 counts already? Ate told me, "Yes". Gawd. I saved my count on my phone, as well as those of W's newbie and Mr. Calf-Caresser. I texted them both their results, congratulating them because their counts meant they were still doing well enough to not need to start medications yet. How about mine?

Okay fine. Mine was... gulp... 447. Hmm. Still not so bad, being above 400. But as expected, it did go down. It went down 46 points to be exact. Hmm. I asked Ate what that meant for me, and she really thought it was no big deal, even attributing the drop to be a normal part of fluctuation. Hmm. Okay, I wasn't exactly depressed about it, but it did leave me a lot to think about.

Lessons learned? Well I'm not giving up my love or my friends exactly. Maybe I'll work some vitamins back into my routine. Maybe be more healthy somehow... or at least try. Less stress if that's possible. But as of last night, I was in bed by 10:00 pm, and even managed to squeeze in some shut-eye on the bus ride to work this morning. O diba, may takot din pala? Hehehe. Wish me luck on these next six months!

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Like Poles Attract

Another weekend passed by. But it was far from my usual weekend of just lazing around at home and taking a breather from a week of work. I did spend Friday night and most of early Saturday just home recharging… but I was really getting ready for a night of epic proportions.

Another weekend passed by... and it was like a whirlwind.

It seems my weekends have become more active than usual, thanks to the little group of HIV-positive friends we’ve formed. Again, we’re not a formal group. We had HIV in common, and the RITM. But really, we were just friends and friends of friends. Simple as that.

For the past few occasions that we’ve met, the most that we’ve ever been is seven, which happened on each of first three times we went out. It was never the same seven people though. Just a little coincidence. I thought it’d be a pattern, but the fourth time, we were below quota at six. There went my theory.

This time it was going to be different. I don’t know exactly what was up with this weekend, but a lot of us were game to meet up. In the planning stages, up to 10 people were confirmed to come, with a good 5 or 6 more new guys invited. Of course, 10 minds working towards a common goal was difficult enough. Just deciding what time, where to meet, what movie to watch and where to eat was almost hell. Thankfully, the place and time got worked out, so by hook or by crook, it was happening.

So by 5:30 pm of Saturday, I was at the meeting place. I met the BruskoBoy among us, who got there first. Soon, RedApple and his friend got there. And then O. And then BFF-in-law, followed shortly by BFF. And then Positive’sStory. Already we were past our usual quorum at eight. We somehow were able to agree upon Japanese food. Soon, W showed up. And surprise, surprise, Papi showed up. Trese brought up the rear. Eleven?! Ten positives and Papi in a public place? I swear, no one could ever guess it was possible.

Okay, I apologize if I can’t openly disclose exactly where we were and where we ate. It’s because every so often, one of us would see someone he knew, and I’d rather stay away from the possibility of indirectly exposing someone’s identity, if someone just managed to put two and two together. It’s not common to see such a big group. Not to mention we weren’t exactly the type of group that was quietly blending into the crowd. We were somehow eleven huge characters.

After dinner, it was clear that a movie would not get agreed upon, with some saying they’d already watched this and that, and saying that this movie was dragging and that movie was bad. Downside I guess of being eleven in a group. Eleven opinions that won’t necessarily always jive. But it was all good.

After a lot of stalling, with one of us needing to head off for work, the ten of us left headed off for some night life. I know... I’m not exactly the night life kind of guy. But being part of a sizeable group was my safety blanket. Gulp still.

We ended up in a Malate-type place, that wasn’t in Malate. Scary that it was still that type of gimmick, but sans the snooty Malate atmosphere made it a bit better. I didn’t know though what to expect. The bit of wine we had before charging the place helped a bit. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

As it turned out, we got there early, being one of only two tables occupied at the time. I appreciated the space, though. Much unlike the few Malate experiences I’ve had, places so jam-packed that you’d be sharing your breathing space with four other people. Argh. Even at the peak hours past midnight, it still was nowhere near the density of people in Malate. I loooooved it. People could actually dance without having their knees fused together by the end of the night.

Grooving. Loud music. Smoke-filled air. Half-naked hunks dancing upon ledges. Gay impersonators. It all made for a fun night. Of course, alcohol was part of the equation for some of us, but everyone was within their limits. I can confidently say none of us was butt drunk in the end. To one extreme, one of us was enjoying the music, the dancing and the company with just a couple of glasses of pineapple juice. Others were having mixed drinks. Others, myself included, had beer... in numbers nowhere near my maximum capacity. Yep, that’s my defense. Hehe.

It was all good. Except the part where Papi kept rubbing in that he’d had sex with one of the half-naked guys dancing on the ledge some time ago. Imagine my eyes rolling into the back of my head. But sige na, I will choose my battles. I will blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. And everything shall remain all good.

So there. By the end of the evening, which was morning already, six of us were left having breakfast, exchanging stories and jokes at one of the few 24-hour places we could think of. I got home past 6 in the morning I think. I know... the sun was up already. I don’t even remember the last time this happened, if it’s happened at all.

I know we were just 10 positives and Papi. Even if you include GreenMan, E, and some others whom we’ve invited to tag along, right now there isn’t even 20 of us so far. That’s like less than 5% of RITM’s roster of HIV-positives, and less than 0.5% of the national registry. Our group is tiny. Insignificant. And I know you might be wondering why our little group is such a big deal to us.

Being almost all HIV-positive is a big factor. I mean it probably gives each one of us such comfort to be able to openly talk about health, side effects, CD4 counts, and what not. But of course we’re not limited to just HIV-related stuff. Primarily, we are human beings, so we do talk about family, relationships, sex, work, jokes, bullshit and everything else under the sun as well.

We’re like a support group. But unlike our usual NGOs who call themselves “support groups” we don’t get together for the attention, to sex things up amongst ourselves, or for any funding. We’re unadulterated. We are friends. We’re just choosing to be happy... together. And I can say we truly support and care for each other. Now that’s a real support group. Who ever said like poles repel?

So there. If I was to sum up the more than 12 hours we spent together, uhm, caring for and supporting each other... and gimmicking as well, I have only three words: Fun, fun and fun. Till next time boys.

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New Year, New Gen

Remember the newbie boy who joined us last Saturday at our post-Christmas thing? He’d actually just been diagnosed in November at a private clinic, and had been referred to San Lazaro Hospital. But armed with some concerns which I won’t discuss in detail, he wanted to know his other options. So I volunteered to take him to RITM. We had agreed to go on December 28th, Monday, but he begged off at the last minute as he wasn’t feeling well. Bummer.

But I decided to go visit RITM all the same, since I needed to take some gifts from Positivism for the people there. Besides, my new BFF GreenFrog was planning to go as well. So I made the trip. There, I left my package with Ate, and waited for word from the BFF. While waiting, Ate introduced me to the only other pusit who was there. Surprisingly, upon hearing my name, he had this funny look on his face as if it meant something. Hmm. His name sounded familiar to me as well.

After some questions and answers, we figured out that I had been chatting and texting with him and his friend since he got diagnosed late this year. So he was sort of one of my “kids”. We’d finally met. Funny coincidence, don’t cha think? He also lives a stone’s throw away from where BFF and I do, so I thought he could come along on our next “northern exposure”.

From there, he tagged along with me to the lounge-slash-clinic to meet GreenFrog and another of our Saturday night friends. Together, the four of us had an early lunch at Festival Mall, from where we all headed back up north. I spent the afternoon resting, during which I got a text from my newbie boy requesting I accompany him to RITM the next day. Two days at the RITM in a week? Well, I had nothing else planned, so, okay.

The following day I ran a few errands early in the morning before heading to meet my newbie at the Ayala MRT station. Within an hour, we were at RITM. He wasn’t exactly decided on signing up with RITM just yet. He was just planning on conducting an ocular so he’d have some options to weigh. But based on how well he fit into our little Saturday group, several of us agreed he belonged at the RITM. Not that we’re exclusive to some type or something, but he’d instantly be armed with a headstart of six friends should he decide on the RITM to be his HIV hub.

Upon getting there and heading to the clinic, guess who I chanced upon there? It was U! It was my U! If you don’t remember U, he’s the guy who introduced me to the RITM back when I was clueless as to where to go. So it was U and I, and... let’s christen my newbie as a new alphabet friend... let’s call him W. So it was U, W and I. Amazing.

Do you realize why it was so amazing for me? In one room, I had U, the guy who brought me to the RITM, and W, the latest guy I brought to the RITM. So if W was my “kid”, this sort of makes U my “dad”. Hehe. Three generations of pusit-dom seems like such a rare and amazing thing. Hehehe. Ok sige, mababaw na ako kung mababaw.

Evident in the teasing that ensued between U and I in the presence of Ate and W, this is really all about paying it forward. U helped me start my HIV journey with RITM, and I ought to pay that generosity forward. I know I’ve paid it forward a lot already. Hell, I’m the butt of jokes for being one of the culprits behind the increasing pozzie population at the RITM. I mean, I’m not infecting people, but rather, I just seem to be easy to find, I guess, for those who are about to begin their HIV journeys. Or maybe it’s all fate? Whatever it is, I do what I can in my personal capacity to help.

So going back to W, to my surprise, within about an hour of our getting there, he had undergone a bit of counselling, signed up, surrendered what test results he had, and gotten blood samples taken for other preliminary tests. And with that, W was official. I hated how I came under fire when the counselling got to the part of disclosing to someone in the family. Hehe. Ate knows I haven’t told anyone just yet. And Ate made sure she made googly eyes at me when it came to that part. Again, no pressure, but it was advised. Argh.

From there, U, W and I headed on back north together, as I said goodbye to each of them as they got off at their respective MRT stations and I made it home as well. It’s been a long day. I needed to rest. Hell, it’s been a long year. My first full year living with HIV is now over. Can you believe it? I can.

If my condition at the exact stroke of New Year is any indication of how this year will be, well then I’m gonna be sleepy and woozy with ARVs the whole 2010. Healthy, happy, horny and hungover. That ain’t such a bad thing, right? Anyway, I look forward to more years to come.

But for now, this is it. I really haven’t been counting, but W will definitely my last “kid” for the year. Quota na ako. Quotang quota na... for 2009, at least. Year 2010? That may be a whole other story. Pay it forward will go forward. More new years, more new generations. So for now, let me wish a hell of a Healthy, Happy, Horny and Hungover New Year to all!

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