The Cold Weekend

Last weekend? It was a cold weekend.

Well, no, temperature-wise, it was scorching. Agh. Hello, it’s summer in the Philippines in the era of climate change. What else could you expect?

But still, it was a cold weekend. Cold. Harsh. Cruel. Brrrrr, brrrrr, and brrrrr.

Friday night, I headed off from work, off to an unfamiliar place. I had heard of the place before, but never been there. I did my homework researching how to get there, but figured, since it was near my sister’s place, I would take the same route and wish for luck from the heavens that my logic was right. Fortunately, it was.

I took a short bus trip and a tricycle ride, and I got to the quaint little Café Juanita and headed inside. Yes, a trike, so what? At least I didn’t get lost. Walking in, I was ushered to the farthest table. Okay, this is it. Another night of socializing for the anti-social like me. Gulp.

Just walking through the restaurant was an experience. Everywhere you looked, you’d see abubots and trinkets, very reminiscent of my packrat of a lola crossed with a shiny drag queen. I don’t think there was one bare inch of space. I’m not a big fan of clutter, and this wasn’t just clutter. This was clutt-est! But hey, it’s not my place, so who am I to complain?

Getting to the table, introductions went around. Some familiar faces, and some new ones. Bloggers. I’d really been out of this blogger’s circle for sometime now. But the occasion? It was JohnStan’s birthday. But other than being a friend, the inside scoop was that someone got me invited because I needed a perk-up after my recent single-ification. Sweet. Cold. Cruel. Cruel, but sweet.

Aside from the birthday, it was also an occasion for us, John Stan’s friends, to meet the boyfriend. The one. A couple? In love? Love?! Gah!... Hehehe, okay fine, I guess I did have a bitter side. But it was under control, don’t worry. I was my usual quiet self, even quieter because I was nursing a cough and a cold. Taste buds were numb, sinuses stuffed, hearing impaired... Argh. Eh wala, eh... Malakas sa akin si JohnStan.

Kare kare, crispy pata, fried lapu-lapu, topped off with sticky toffee pudding… what was left of my tongue did enjoy. From there, I passed on further nightlife. My excuse? I was drugged... with ARVs, of course. But the cold didn’t help. And the long day at work didn’t either. So I called it a night and went home ahead.

The next night, I had a date. A date with an ex. Not what you think. This ex of mine from maybe a decade ago wanted to see me... and introduce his boyfriend. Love? Again?! Gah! What is this, the season to introduce boyfies?! Actually, it was the boyfriend who was apparently pushing to meet. I don’t know what he knew about me that brought this on, but I was game. This was an ex with whom, despite a short relationship and a dramatic breakup, I had successfully transcended into friendship with. Hello?! We’ve been in touch for a decade! That’s something.

I started off on a bad note, being late for the meet. No big deal to them though. Finally, the past and the present met. We headed to Mang Jimmy’s, another must eat in the city. Kare kare again, tapa mix, beef and baby corn, and two servings of sizzling pusit... Pusit? Was he trying to imply something?! Well, I haven’t told this ex of mine about my status. I wanted to, but would rather just tell him first without the boyfie... so maybe some other time.

After the hefty dinner, they toured me around the MWSS compound, where they apparently usually stroll. It was nice that they shared such intimate moments and places with me. Of course, I couldn’t help feeling like a third wheel at the time, and would’ve loved to have a hand to hold as well. Sigh. We then ended up at the foot of the UP Oblation, where we lounged, people-watched, and talked... about everything under the sun... about them, about our past, how we met, why we broke up, how we became friends again… trust me, there was a lot to laugh about when it came to our history. If only, if only, if only I wasn’t wheezing and coughing the whole time. Argh, damned cold again... and cough.

From there, I headed back home, alone this time, as they were heading another way together. It was a few minutes before 9:30 pm. I know because my ARV alarm went off just as I took my seat in the jeep. At least I didn’t have to come up with an alibi for my little watch ringing.

There. Argh. It was a cold and cruel weekend. Cold and cruel for the recently single. I mean, I had a choice not to be there, and I could’ve been bitter about it. But I don’t want to be that way. Couples aren’t out there to rub my situation in. It ain’t their fault. So I shouldn’t be blaming them or taking it against them or anything. If anything, I can truly, truly say that I’m happy for both of the couples I spent last weekend with. Really. Frost my heart... I mean, cross my heart.

So at this point, I’m imbibing positivism... Love. It’s there. I still love it. Love, love, love, love, love. Bring it on. But first, let me... defrost.

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The Ex Factor

I haven’t seen Papi since our first date almost a month ago. Thanks to being busy with my aunt’s passing away, plus the two typhoons that just happened to ravage the country on successive weekends… yeah, it was like I had a date one weekend with Ondoy, and another with Pepeng the next. Papi almost got jealous. Hehehe.

But I’ll be honest, I did have a date... a human one... and it wasn’t Papi.

I was on my prior-to-HIV YM account some weeks ago, after being off it for so long, when I got a message from a familiar name. It was my ex-boyfriend asking how I’ve been. He was my third boyfriend, from way back 8 or 9 years ago. After our break up, we’d managed to transcend to becoming friends. I mean, we weren’t meeting up anymore, but we were able to stay in touch.

Every time we’d catch each other online, he’d ask how I was doing. A simple question to answer supposedly, but it wasn’t. It was different. I mean I was okay, but I was different. He knew of how wild I could be, and was just so curious about not seeing me online anymore. He guessed that I was probably in a relationship. But after hearing that I’d been single for almost two years, things just didn’t make sense. He knew me well enough to know something was up.

Hold on. Now let me make clear first that this was not a case of love being lovelier the second time around. Nope, he wasn’t interested in getting back together with me. He had a boyfriend, and they’d been living in with each other for several years already. We were just friends... who just happened to be a couple before. Yep, it’s possible.

So anyways, given that we’d known each other for so long, he knew me well enough to know something was up. So from the lack of an excuse, plus the fact that I had no reason to keep secrets from him, I told him. I told him I had been dealing with HIV. I couldn’t really read how shocked he was from the way he chatted, but he did say he was saddened by the news. And with that, he insisted that we meet.

With my little secret out of the way, I had no reason not to see him. I’m confident I didn’t put him at risk of infection, despite the fact that we did it unprotected back when we were still a couple. Yep, I was still at the dawn of my sexual awakening back then. Much, much less adventurous than I’ve become now. And we hadn’t had sexual contact since breaking up years ago.

Honestly, when I was starting out my HIV journey, back when I was still with San Lazaro, he came to mind. Mostly it was because of what was then an apparent need to have someone with me – a friend or family member – before they would start me on ARVs. He lived extremely close to San Lazaro, which is why I have him to thank for my being familiar with the area. I considered asking for his help if I had no choice, but didn’t want to be an inconvenience. But I’d transferred to the RITM soon after, and that time never came.

Back to the present. One evening after work, I took a trip other than the way home... to the same mall we used to frequent together. So going there really brought back memories. Not necessarily good or bad, but memories nonetheless.

He got to the mall first. I got there some minutes later. Walking to him, I didn’t know what he was thinking. I’m sure he wasn’t ashamed of what had become of me, nor was he going to reprimand me for what had happened. I mean, we weren’t like that before. I was always the kid to him, him being 10 years my senior. But I think I’ve gained more than my kid’s share of respect from him at this point. So I wasn’t going to need to defend myself to him. But from the look on his face, I think he just felt some pity. It was pity that I was planning on changing.

If meeting with me was his way of reassuring me of his support through my supposed endeavor, meeting with him was my way of showing him and proving to him that I was okay, and that I was still the same old me, at least, or hopefully even better.

I mean, 8 or 9 years ago, I was certainly a different me. Maybe I was less mature and less experienced. But that many years passing can really change a person. I mean deep inside I’m still me, but experiences and learnings should’ve changed me somehow, right?

So of course, other than strolling around, having dinner and lounging around, the evening was primarily filled with catching up. I did have him read through this blog prior to us meeting, just so he had an idea of how long a journey we were going to have to recap. He had a lot of questions which I gamely answered, and of course, I had him share all about his life as well.

On the most part, he was supportive. But he was peeved when he found out that I didn’t call on him during the time that I needed someone with me. And then of course he was pissed that I hadn’t told my mom about my condition yet. Argh. But he understood it wasn’t going to be easy for me. But still, I got the scolding. Argh again. I know he’s just concerned, but he was still treating me like a kid. Hmp, si lolo talaga! Hehe. Just kidding!

Anyway, pretty soon, I think we got to where I wanted us to be. I was joking around with him, just like we were before, and he was not getting all my punchlines, just like we were before. Hehehe. We blame it on the age gap, but we just laugh it off now, unlike before. But really the bottom line was that he knew that I was okay, I knew he was okay, and we knew we were okay.

Since that time, we’ve had dinner one more time, and he’s even managed to get himself tested for HIV at the Social Hygiene Clinic. So he met my Dr. Diana Mendoza and my territory there. I do think he was getting tested regularly whenever he donated blood, but still I was so proud. Happily, he’s negative.

We do plan on meeting up again sometime. Maybe I’ll get to meet his hubby. Or he did say he’d want to check out Papi as well. Aba, kikilatisin pa! Schucks, strict ang lolo ko, no? Hehehe, kidding!

So there. That was my date. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a date-date. Otherwise Papi could kill me. It was a friendly date. This friend just happened to be one which I was carrying over into my new poz life. Nothing bad about that. Nothing bad about the ex-factor.

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A Day w/o U

RITM, day 2. This entry may as well have been entitled another day with… needles. Imagine me cringing.

It just happened to fall on another Thursday. I had been scheduled by Ate and the doctor for my lab tests at the RITM. I had planned on taking another day off from work, but reconsidered, thinking I’d save my leave credits for other more important appointments. I had been given the option of showing up early at the RITM. And I mean early. As in 6:00 am. Early enough so I’d be able to make my way back in time for work at 8:30. At least that was the plan.

Instead, I mistakenly left my cellphone in silent mode, missing my wakeup call by about 45 minutes. Instead of getting up at 4:45 am, I ended up realizing my mistake at 5:30 am, and just rushed to get out of the house. I had planned on making the first trip of the MRT, but obviously missed it. I was able to take the train at 6:00, not too bad. I love traveling that early in the morning. It was still pre-rush hour, a big advantage for the claustophobe like me. It was around a 20-minute train ride, from which I rushed down to street level to hop on a bus plying the Alabang Skyway route. I was just trying to recall how U took me to the RITM last Monday. Plus it made sense, it was a route straight to Alabang via the Skyway, meaning less stops, making for a faster trip.

It was a long but quick bus ride, and I tried to take note of landmarks on the way. We passed by the Nichols Exchange, the farthest south I was really familiar with, since that was where my first boyfriend was from. Further on down, we entered the skyway, and passed the Raya residential development which looks amazing. We passed the Hapee Toothpaste plant, the SM Mall in Bicutan, an finally exited at what looked like a newly constructed Alabang Exit which led into the Filinvest Corporate City. I got down where U and I did previously, at he Alabang Central Terminal.

I decided to walk towards the RITM instead of riding, primarily because I get a better sense of direction when I’m on foot. I retraced the steps we took last Monday, walking towards the Festival Mall and up towards the hill where the RITM was situated. It was a long walk, and I made it before 7:00 am, but remained unconvinced that I had taken the shortest way.

I first walked towards the comfort room, to relieve myself of the pee I’d had brewing in time for my urinalysis. I needed to keep it in almost the whole way, since I’ve been known to suffer from a shy bladder at times. I whipped the bottle out and filled it up mid-stream as advised. Then off I went to the Laboratory Department, which U had pointed out to me during our earlier visit. There was still no one answering the doorbell, so I sat down on a bench in the hall trying to cool off after the long walk. A few minutes later a lady passed me and walked into the lab, shortly after peeping out the window asking if I was a client. I handed her my lab referrals and the urine sample as she ushered me in. I sat down in the torture chair, putting my arm down on the armrest ready for my sentence. She looked at the list of test to do… viral load, CD4 count, genotyping, CBC, hepatitis profiling, and urinalysis… and whipped out four vials to fill. Four vials? That’s worse than the three I filled up at the Manila Health Department months earlier. This would be a record for me. Or so I thought. I looked away as she started to push the needle into my arm. I’m getting used to the feeling, but still can’t stand seeing it. Next thing I know, she’s asking me to hand her two more vials from the table next to me. Four? Plus two? Another record broken… but I have to admit it wasn’t that bad. So there I was, six vials of blood lighter, a survivor.

I walked next door to the X-ray Department, again no one was there. There’d been a sign saying the personnel were at the canteen, so again I sat down and waited. The old lady in charge soon showed up, and I was in and out of there in a flash.

Last stop, some test called PPD. Research now tells me it stands for Purified Protein Derivative, a skin test for tuberculosis. I had been pointed to the emergency room for it, from where I was pointed to the Pharmacy. I showed the referral, and I was given a box of something called Biocin, and told to return it after. Weird. Not something I’d usually hear at a pharmacy. So I returned to the E.R. and handed it to the nurse, who asked for my chart. Chart? What chart? I had nothing else with me but the referral, but was told they couldn’t do the test without the chart. I tried texting Ate, but received no reply. U had given me her number beforehand in case I encountered some problems. So I had to wait, thankfully she arrived early, around 8:30 am.

Needless to say at this point, I didn’t make it to work on time. So anyways, Ate accompanied me back to the E.R., and gave her personal referral in order to push the test through. So apparently, PPD is a skin test. And I must say skin tests hurt. I got a bump full of the medicine in my arm, had the nurse draw a circle around the test site, plus a note on a piece of tape on my arm with the date and time it was administered. Bad enough that I couldn’t wet my arm for three days, but I had to have the pen mark and the tape on me at work. Hmmm. I have some explaining to do.

Take note again, that all the tests I had done were free at the RITM, except for the P120.00 I paid for the Biocin thingy. I’m told the test will be free everytime, as oppose to that at San Lazaro, where follow-up CD4 counts cost something like P4,000.00, and viral load tests P6,000.00. That should be more than enough savings to pay for the additional transport to the RITM.

I realized I didn’t bump into any other fellow clients, Ate being the first and only person I encountered from the OPD that day. I was out of the RITM by 9:00 am, already having sent a text message to work saying I would be late. I walked back to the highway, but this time following my instincts and passing a road I hadn’t tried before. I think I got the right and shortest route this time. I made the trip back, via the bus and the MRT again, and reached work past 10:00.

Another amazing day, not even half through, but already got a lot done. Just two tests left, a fecalysis and RPR titer. A stool sample would spoil in the length of the trip, while the latter test, they didn’t have at the RITM. I’m thinking of going back to Dra. Malou at the Manila Health Department for those tests, as well as to pay them a visit and update them on my status. I’m planning to do that Tuesday morning, another day I’m taking off from work. A bloody and shitty Tuesday, literally.

I have another visit to the RITM scheduled on Tuesday afternoon for a consultation with the doctor. I’ll find out the results of the tests, plus my options for ARVs. So it’ll be another busy week again for me. My verdict is coming… again. Wish me luck!

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The Little Birdie

I’ve just had my first official sleepless night. Did something happen? Definitely. Good or bad? I can’t really say.

I’ve been quizzing myself every so often with my What-ifs. One of them was What if I didn’t break up with my last boyfriend? I always wondered if things would’ve been better if I swallowed my pride, just gave him the liberty to fool around behind my back, and stayed together with him. Would this have prevented me from catching the bug? Last night, my question was suddenly answered.

Let’s just say I heard it through the grapevine. A little birdie told me. Well, technically, not exactly little. Impressive actually. I had bumped into this little birdie a couple of times before, but never really became more than just acquaintances. We really had only one real common link between us, which was my ex. The little birdie told me we needed to meet and talk in person, the sooner, the better for me according to him. Next week wasn’t even soon enough. Hmm. The little birdie really got me thinking what this was all about.

So last night, we decided the quickest way was to talk over the phone. After the initial pleasantries, the little birdie came to its mission. I had heard from my ex that he was recovering from a medical procedure performed on him. But the little birdie had more to the story. Apparently, the medical personnel were baffled by the ex’s infection that wasn’t responding to the medication. So baffled that they needed to rule it out. So they did the test. And yes, he was HIV positive. Although the thought had grazed my mind due to the little birdie’s sense of urgency to meet, at that point, I still was a bit shocked.

It was at this point that the little birdie said that I should get myself tested as well. The little birdie had gotten its test too, which was definitively negative since they had not had contact since years and years ago. So I then blurted out that I was done with the test, and admitted I was positive as well. I may just have shocked the little birdie a bit, but definitely made its job much easier. He now understood why I knew so much about HIV and was less shocked than expected.

Apparently the ex was tested around the end of April, shortly after I got my result. He had also been to the H4 Ward at the San Lazaro Hospital. But I imagine that I may have gotten my patient number before he did. My mind went back to the medical chart of 059 who got confined at the H4. Maybe that was him.

He wasn’t simply just positive like I was. He was positive to the point of infections in the mouth and lower extremities. So bad that he was in crippling pain. His CD4 count was in the double digits. In other words, he categorically had AIDS. He was still too weak to start on ARVs. I know my chest was throbbing just trying to imagine his condition. It scared me to be honest.

I haven’t really been pondering too much on who I possibly got this from, but it never struck me to go as far as my last ex. We had known each other since September of 2005, and split up after almost 2 years together. It was after that I decided I’d enjoy singlehood for a change and let loose. So it was always that time after that relationship that I considered as my most risky.

It’s definitely presumptuous of me to think that I got it from him. For all we know, he may have gotten it from me. Or our infections may not even be directly linked, and just be coincidental. Only heaven knows.

For now, nothing much changes. I'm even more thankful now for the relatively fortunate condition I am in. Just a lot more to think about. I appreciate the effort the little birdie made to tell me. It was just concerned and bothered by its conscience. But don’t expect any confrontations to take place between me and the ex, because technically I should not know anything about it. I just hope he gets better. As for the little birdie, just as my secret is safe with it, its secret is safe with me.

Fly away little birdie… and thank you.

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