Okay, so maybe I’m not new to disclosure. The back of my head was featured on TV for GMA’s Think Positive documentary about HIV some years ago. And I was part of DepEd’s Power of You sexual health awareness campaign, disclosing my HIV-positive status to an audience of students and faculty, both in Subic and Cebu.
For some, those are amazing steps to take. But for me, I could inch a wee bit further.
Really, those times I’ve delved into the business of disclosing my HIV status have almost never been any risk to me. I mean, almost all of these people, I had not known before, and they would only have known me after the fact. And also, there was little chance of seeing most of them ever again. Non-detrimental is the term I’d use.
So in summary, brave as some of you think it to be, there was to be little bearing on my everyday life. But, in the interest of being a guinea pig of the HIV experience, I’ve been taking it a bit further.
You know how when you get urine tests for illegal drugs, they would usually ask if you’re taking any medications? Well, the reason for that is the possibility of false positive results. Our doctors and nurses have always said that some of the ARVs could result in a positive result of a typical urine test for drugs.
So lately, I’ve been figuring, I may as well tell them before a drug test that I am indeed taking maintenance medications... just so it doesn’t sound like a defensive afterthought after a false positive result of a drug test.
The first time I applied this new mentality of mine was some months ago, when I went to have my driver’s license renewed. So, wary of my shy bladder, I arrived with my bladder already full to the brim. In afterthought, not a very good idea.
Hour after hour of filling out forms, waiting, waiting and more waiting, it was finally, finally, finally my turn to collect my urine sample. Sounds normal, right? But at some point of filling out the form, I filled in “Yes” to answer the question of whether I was currently taking any medications. And in the blank provided, I wrote “Lamivudine”.
Lamivudine is actually just one of my three ARVs. So, of course, like I taunted it out of him, the guy who checks my form asks what I’m taking it for. Okay, in all honesty, I didn’t exactly disclose that I’m HIV-positive. But rather, the next best thing... how about disclosing one of my co-infections? Good enough.
Hepatitis B. Yep, aside from HIV, I indeed have Hepatitis B. Not your typical Hepatitis that you get from dirty food, but rather, an STD as well. But fortunately, due to some odd circumstances, two of my three ARVs, Lamivudine and Tenofovir, are acting against both my HIV and Hepatitis B. Two birds with two pills. So I could really claim that I am taking them for my Hepatitis B.
So to cut this chapter short, I renewed my license without a hitch. No false positives. No problem with disclosing having an STD either. No... Big... Deal.
Cut to the next scene. I’m tempted to try my stunt again. Let’s move on to a different challenge... something more detrimental.
So the last time I had a medical exam for employment was back in 2004. Pre-HIV. This year would be my first after that little milestone.
So I got a dental exam, blood tests, x-ray, and once again, another urine test for illegal drugs. After all that, I go to the doctor for the physical exam. And she was plotting out my medical history. Previous operations? None. Hospitalizations? None. Family history? Well, diabetes, heart disease and cancer. And medications? Yes. Lamivudine.
Of course, she needed to ask what I was taking it for. Hepatitis B. When was I diagnosed? Did anyone in the family have Hepatitis B? Did I have any blood transfusions? 2008. Nope. Nope. So I’m sure in her head, the doctor now could deduce it was sexually-transmitted. And so it was over, she sent me off. I could expect the results at the office.
For all I care, it’s no big deal. I just have it. It’s not affecting my work. I still wasn’t sure what effect it would have on my job prospects. Then the following day, I got called into the company clinic. Oh boy. Here it goes.
So I was called in with a couple of others. One needed a follow-up urinalysis. The other, a re-x-ray. And then, my turn. I was told to shut the door to the clinic. What the? So I was asked by the company nurse about my Hepatitis B. How long I had it and what not. And I was just answering it matter-of-factly. Then she places a call to the doctor, asking about my case. Chit-chat chit-chat over the phone. She looks at me from head to toe, and looks into my eyes while still on the phone.
Hindi naman po siya naninilaw. Okay, salamat doc.
She puts the phone down.
Okay ka na. Fit to work ka na.
I knew it was right, but I honestly was still in a level of disbelief. Sigh of relief.
Yeah, yeah. I know that was just Hepatitis B. But really, if you think about it, disclosing HIV should be just as easy. Exactly like I just happened to have Hepatitis B, I just happened to have HIV. I am still fit to work. I am still fit to live. I am still fit. Period.
If you think about it, I didn’t have to say it. I didn’t have to disclose. I didn't have to take the risk. They wouldn’t have found out if I didn’t tell them. I have an STD. Hmmm, not the easiest thing to say. Let alone I have HIV. But why must it be that way? Why must HIV be the one skeleton I have in my closet that I have to keep hidden? Sadly, for now, there’s still a higher level of stigma that surrounds HIV. But times are a-changing... Someday... Someday.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Disclosure... Sort Of
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
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.
Monday, April 04, 2011
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!
Friday, July 02, 2010
The White Party
Last weekend? I was dreading it. It was to be a particularly not-so-usual one. This was one of the few times I would have rather not had the weekend.
A party? Am I supposed to be happy because I was going to a party? Well I wasn't.
What party was this? The White Party... in Malate.
The White Party. In Malate. Malate, I've been to before. But never really got the hang of it. It's... too pretentious. Too snooty. Too sleazy. Too gay even. Yep, that's how this twisted mind of mine works. And the White Party is like exponentiating the usual Malate weekend to the hundredth power. Gah.
Okay, I wasn't really going there for the party itself. I was going to be there to support the Take the Test booth which was going to be set up as part of the event. Note from E: Wear white and baby blue. White?! And baby blue?! Not exactly the best combination for a melanin-enhanced individual as myself. Read: MAITIM AKO. In white and baby blue? Glow in the dark!
And with that, even just preparing for that weekend was stressful too. I had to buy myself a new pair of white shorts. And without shoes to go with that, I had to get a new pair too. I was able to dig up an old light blue and white striped polo, but worried I'd be overdressed for my own sake, so I had a simple light blue shirt as back up.
So after a full day Saturday, with yoga and a quick dip in the pool in the afternoon, I was able to sneak in a couple of hours of sleep before heading off to Malate for the 10:00 pm calltime.
I got there early, as expected. And not knowing anyone there yet, I just stood out on the street waiting for word from E and our Take the Test boss. Was glad to see LuckyTrese pass by, but he was on his own romp for the night.
After a while, the boss showed up. We set up a tiny table with signs, while waiting for E who had the flyers, late as usual. Hehe. This time, no actual testing was going to commence. We were just going to give out flyers with a bit of HIV trivia, a list of testing centers, and the URL of Take the Test site for further information. E showed up after a while. And then it started... stage fright... and I wasn't even onstage.
I'm anti-social. You know that, right? So the prospect of having to face people by the droves was absolutely dreadful. The boss and E were game to do it. Good thing a lot of other friends were in the area willing to help us give out the flyers. One particular guy, a stranger actually, came over to help out, in exchange for being able to put his beer bottle down on our table. Hehehe, works for me.
I got assigned to fold the flyers. Okay fine, I volunteered to do it. I was able to give a few flyers away to passersby, but not without every ounce of anxiety I could muster.
How did people take it? Some just walked by, and some got curious wondering what we were about. Some took the flyers, some waved it off.
I think the worst was two guys who approached, extremely curious. We handed them each a flyer, but when they found out it was about HIV, they hurriedly gave it back as if they had an allergic reaction or would get infected by just having it in their possession. Oi. Sad, sad, sad.
And the best? One guy approached the table with some friends, and took a flyer telling us, "You're doing a good thing with this." That was nice.
Past 1:00 am, we closed shop. I think we gave out around two-thirds of the flyers... which, if we started with a ream of bond paper cut in half, would be somewhere over 600 pieces. Not bad.
From there, we headed over to a bar to meet some friends. Oh, I needed a drink badly... I still hadn't drank my ARVs yet. That makes me around 4 hours late. Shhh. So anyway, I finally downed them against a shot of some blue concoction which I'm not familiar with... sorry I'm really not an alcohol expert... I could live on just a pale pilsen any day.
After a short while, we headed to Bed, the bar I mean. I was not looking forward to it actually. Bed on a normal weekend is dense enough. On a White Party weekend? You guessed it. Packed! We headed in, at which point I actually lost sight of my friends for a few minutes. I stood midway up the stairs trying to make out any familiar face in the dimly lit room. Good thing I saw them finally near the bar.
Making my way to them, claustrophobia was already setting in. It's worse than the MRT at rush hour, because it was dark, and hot, and everyone was trying to sway to the beat. Geez, just give me my beer. From there we headed up to the second floor. I found an oasis when I chanced upon a vacant seat at the couches. When it's that tight a space, you appreciate even the breathing space you have between your face and your knees. Seriously.
Slowly, I was wilting away. I was tired. I was on ARVs. And of course, it was way past my bedtime. So I made my great escape, leaving everyone else behind. Walking out to get a cab, I glanced at my watch. It was 4:00 am. Really, it was time for me to go.
Honestly, I had no regrets. Being tired, getting harassed and all, it was fine. Was just glad to get the chance to be witness to Take the Test for the first time, if at least just by my presence. I just really hope we at least made a few HIV ripples in the crowd that night.
Other than that... my other thought would be... that I've had enough of Malate for another 5 years. Obviously! It took me a week to recover enough to blog it, right? And so the question remains... Inay... bading ba talaga ako? Just kidding! Proudly! Pwera Malate...
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
The Test: Taking Two
March 31, 2010. The last day of March. The end of the first quarter of the year. The 90th day of the year, 91st for leap years. The birthday of such famed personalities as father of modern philosophy Rene Descartes, civil rights activist Cesar Chavez, former United States vice-president Al Gore, and Star Wars’ Obi-Wan Kenobi actor, Ewan McGregor.
But for me, March 31st has, in recent years, taken on a new meaning.
Flashback to two years ago. I remember it was a Monday. A regular working day supposedly. But waking up early, I was not going my usual route to Ortigas for work. I took a ride to the Manila area. It’s not easy to believe that it’s already been two years. It was exactly two years ago, on the fateful day of March 31, 2008, that I had finally gone to get tested for HIV. It was to be my first... and my last.
I remember how much of a fool I made of myself just getting tested. I mean, I had been wanting to get tested for a while already. Take note, I wanted to get tested. It never occurred to me that I needed to get tested. I had finally decided to get tested maybe a couple of weeks before. I was actually outside the gate of the Social Hygiene Clinic already the week before.
Yep, you read it right. I was just outside the gate. I never made it inside the week before. My paranoia got to me. I mean I got my feet to take me to Manila, but couldn’t get past all my fears enough to take myself up those final few steps to the second floor to actually get tested. So I chickened out and just headed off instead. Hehehe.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I chickened out. It was all about my being scared.
I don’t really think I was thinking along the lines of “What if I test positive for HIV?” I think I knew already that I wasn’t exactly going to get the results right away. And I definitely wasn’t thinking that far ahead.
It was more about my reputation. I mean, yeah, I knew within myself that my rePUTAtion wasn’t going to be damaged that much. But I know my worries included “What are they going to think of me?”, “What if they judge me?”, and “Will getting tested make me less of a person in the eyes of others?”
Based on other people’s reactions to getting tested, I think I’m pretty normal to have thought that way. Even now that I know a lot about HIV, I know it’s still the normal way for Filipinos to react. But I also know that it’s sad.
It’s sad that one has to feel that tortured just getting tested for HIV. It’s sad that we live in a culture that fosters that kind of judgment against people who are just concerned for their health. It’s sad that it takes so much effort to realize that getting tested is a good thing, both for yourself and for others.
Whenever I hear of people who have gotten tested or have at least decided to get tested, I always tell them that they should be proud of themselves. Because the truth is, not everyone is brave enough to do it.
And when I hear of people who know they need to but are too afraid to get tested, I just think they should be told that if they were brave enough to take the risk, then they should just suck it up and be equally brave enough to get tested. I kind of wish someone hammered that point into my head two years ago.
Wow. Two years. It doesn’t really seem that long ago. Two years has brought about a lot of change. Now, there already are Rapid HIV Tests in the country, which can give you results in no more than an hour. Back in 2008, I needed to wait over two weeks for my results.
Back then, I had no one to go through the experience with nor did I know who to approach. The traditional NGOs, you couldn’t find or get in touch with. I’m glad I took a chance on the Social Hygiene Clinic in Manila. Now, it’s so refreshing to see even my HIV-positive friends have taken on the chance to convince and accompany friends and even strangers to get tested. Baby steps, but a start nonetheless.
And bloggers? Whereas before, I couldn’t even connect myself to this blog because the HIV NGOs themselves were making it heard that they were against blogging openly about living with HIV. Why? I don’t know. Well, now there are already over 20 in my Poz Posse blog list... need I say more? Well, I don’t remember getting any apologies.
Okay, I’ve rambled. Two years since getting tested. I’m glad I did it. It was to be a huge milestone whichever way the ball rolled. I just happened to turn out HIV-positive, but it ain’t all that bad. I’m still alive and kicking, right?!
And actually, as we speak, a team of counselors and medical personnel is on the way to Puerto Galera to conduct voluntary counseling and testing there. And that it was spearheaded by someone who is not HIV-positive is the amazing thing. Times really are a-changing.
So if you’re in Puerto Galera, this Holy Week, you might want to think about getting counseled and tested for HIV. Just look for the TAKE THE TEST booth on White Beach itself. It’s totally free, and totally for you. Two years ago, I did it. And I have no regrets at all about it. Do it for yourself, too. Take the Test.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
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!
Saturday, September 19, 2009
HIV & (Miss) U
Yeah, sure. I enjoy watching beauty pageants. There’s nothing wrong with that. I remember, even when I was younger, I’d e fascinated by the national costumes and long gowns of each candidate, list down my bets, and check them against the ones the judges would pick. Was it because I was gay? Oh, please... only heaven knows which came first.
But this year, more than because I'm gay, nor nor because I was a beauty titlist myself... oi, that’s a whole other story... I discovered one other reason to love beauty pageants: HIV. HIV?!
Of course, the most prestigious of the beauty tilts has always been the Miss Universe pageant. On August 23rd this year, I watched intently as Stefania Fernandez of Venezuela was crowned the new queen of the universe on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. It really should’ve been like any other Miss Universe night. One distinct difference? Three Miss Universe crowns. Three crowns to choose from, at least.
Basically, the new jewelry sponsor of the pageant, Diamond Nexus Labs or DNL, designed three different Miss Universe crowns, each costing a whopping US$202,000. And of the three crowns, named Hope, Peace and Unity, one would be voted winner by the public via an online poll.
Though the three designs were distinctly different from each other, one similarity was the inlay of red rubies... apparently meant to symbolize the pageant’s cause: HIV and AIDS awareness. Interesting, right? I was never aware that they supported that cause.
According to the Miss Universe website, the compelling reason to take the advocacy of HIV/AIDS awareness under its wing was the fact that 47% of the 41 million people living with HIV/AIDS around the world are women.
And because AIDS is the deadliest infectious disease among adults and the fourth leading cause of death worldwide, every Miss Universe is said to take on the job of traveling the world to speak on behalf of this official cause, using her title to champion HIV/AIDS prevention, particularly among adolescents. During her reign, Miss Universe is to work with the Latino Commission on AIDS, Gay Men's Health Crisis (GMHC) and Youth AIDS/PSI among other organizations and charitable allies.
The advocacy also made its presence felt in the Q&A portion of the pageant as one judge, Tamara Tunie, fielded her question to Miss Dominican Republic, Ada Aimee De La Cruz:
Tamara Tunie: According to the world health organization, there’s an urgent need for HIV testing across the globe. Do you believe that HIV testing should be made mandatory?
Miss Dominican Republic: Good night Bahamas! I definitely do believe that the necessary tests should be made so that people can prevent aids. Because definitely, by just being not careful in just one minute, we may lose our own lives. And that is very costly for us. Thank you so much.
Okay fine. “Good night, Bahamas!” initially threw me off. And though Miss Dominican Republic didn’t actually answer the question as it was stated, I’m just glad she didn’t phrase it in a way that says it should be mandatory. I just think everyone getting tested because it's mandatory is totally different from everyone getting tested because they understand the need to know their status. What she said made sense. The necessary tests should be made. And everyone understanding the need to know their HIV status is indeed the necessary thing.
What did you think of her answer?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
D Kumare
There’s just something about this month of May that’s been keeping me on my toes all the time. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or not that it’s finally coming to a close.
But one good thing that happened in May was that I met someone. I met Mr. D.
D started off stalking this blog in April probably. We chatted for just a day or two, if I remember right, before we talked on the phone. The first really memorable conversation between D and I was actually... phone sex. Teehee. O, don’t judge us, we were just having fun.
For me it was certainly the safest sex that could be had. For him it was just red hot fireworks to usher in my special day. So certainly, there was some sexual tension between us. And thanks to Yahoo! Messenger and unlimited calls, we kept in touch. No commitments or anything of that sort, mind you.
Shortly after, we decided to meet. He offered to pick me up after work. As I spotted the make and color of the car I was looking out for, I hopped in. He had always been modest about his looks, but as I lay my eyes on my new friend, he was as hot, sexy and yummilicious as I thought he would be. Roarrr.
D and I had a scrumptuous dinner of my favorite pizza and pasta combo, and a lively chat over some juice to cap off the evening. And then it was confirmed. I had fallen... I had fallen into the kumare-zone. Hehehe. Well, more like he put me there. I still pegged him as my hot, sexy and yummilicious friend. Nothing bad about that, right?
So anyway, after that, we still kept in touch. D and I would always be badgering each other daily over YM, mostly just joking around and making fun of people and each other. And because we had developed an air of comfort and trust between us, he was one of those who stood witness to my May mood swings, including the time I fell sick and my emo-bitter moments. I reckon he’s a professional okray-therapist.
I’d like to believe I was there for him as well, as in one conversation we had, he mentioned he’d been wanting to get tested for HIV for the past year or so, but never had the guts to. He admitted he’d never gotten tested before, and certainly had some reasons for concern. So I promised I’d accompany him to get tested at the RITM, as I’d need to go and get a med refill anyway.
I accompanied him Monday to get tested, and he accompanied me to get my ARV supply. It was pretty straight forward, although I did go through a couple of prayers while his blood was being extracted. Contrary to expected, I still do not like finding out people are HIV-positive. It’s still not a case of the-more-the-merrier.
I got tasked to badger Ate daily after that to check whether the results were ready. D and I both had the freaky notion that if the results weren’t out within the week, something must be wrong. Hehehe. I think my paranoia rubbed off on him.
Finally, Friday came. Ate had advised me beforehand that the results should be ready by then. I took the afternoon off from work to go with D. We had lunch prior to going, but he really didn’t have an appetite worrying about his results. Getting there, we waited impatiently at Ate’s desk for the results. D’s anxiety was making me anxious as well. He was unusually quiet, and I just didn’t know how to appease him. Finally, someone delivered a couple of envelopes to Ate. I recognized D’s codename on one of them.
Ate called him over to one of the other desks. Initially he had wanted me to read the results for him, but I told him he had to do it himself... besides I couldn’t take the tension either. I watched his reaction from afar as Ate opened the envelope and showed him the results. All I saw was it seemed he felt the needed to sit down after seeing it. Was it good? Was it bad? Geez, I needed to know.
Non-reactive. Negative. D heaved his sigh of relief. I did too. And we hugged. I got what I had been praying for... his negative result... and the hug na rin. Hahaha.
It didn’t take long before D snapped back to his fun old self. And since he would still need a follow-up test to cover the window period, I needed to ask if he felt it might be easier going for the second test. I had no reference of my own, because I never got to a second test, remember?
For now, D and I remain good friends. I think we’ve fallen further into that kumare-zone where we no longer have reputations to live up to between us, and we’ve managed to share all our dirty little secrets. Well, almost all. Getting there, I guess.
We even have some magic words which just crack us up, like pakbet, belt, carwash, and thighs. Hehehe. Don’t even ask. But really, considering it’s been barely even a month, I do hope this is just the beginning of a happy, comfortable, and fun friendship. D. My friend. My kumare. My source of okray-therapy. Hot, sexy, yummilicious D.
Friday, February 13, 2009
A Day of O's
I had been anticipating another huge Thursday since weeks ago, it was to be my follow-up CD4 count, my first after being on ARVs for the past six months. This would tell for certain whether or not my ARVs are working. This would determine whether I was taking proper care of myself and doing the right things to keep my health up. This was to be a make or break thing.
Let me introduce a new addition to my alphabet friends, O. The one thing that stuck with me about O was the fact that on a number of occasions, people have actually mistaken each of us for the other. O and I had bumped into each other a number of times before at the RITM, but never really got to talk much. I guess we were the same type, preferring to stick with the people we already knew. But due to some extremely unusual circumstances, and with U’s help, who knew us both, we finally made contact via text messaging. It was natural for the three of us to gravitate towards one another because of the proximities of where we lived.
O and I met a couple of times after that and gotten the chance to talk, discovering we’d actually met in a group of common friends many, many years ago. Of course, we chatted about family, work, our HIV journeys, and everything else under the sun. And we also found out that we were both scheduled for a CD4 count this month, and just happened to set it on the same date, so we agreed to go together.
We had met out on EDSA at 7:00 am, thinking it would give us enough time to get to the RITM before 9:00, the time that Ate told us to be there for blood extraction in time for the running of the CD4 batch. But like a really bad joke, we seemed to have been sucked into all the possible traffic there was, so much so that we had to be constantly reassuring Ate via text that we were indeed on our way, practically begging for her to wait for us before the batch of samples was run.
And sure enough, after about three hours on the road spent chitchatting, joking around, yawning and stressing out a bit, O and I finally reached the RITM just a couple of minutes before 10:00 am, the ultimate final leeway that Ate had given us.
After several vials of blood each and with that mission behind us, O and I both decided not to report for our respective jobs for the rest of the day, not that I really could because I was just wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts. We just agreed to wait for the results to be released at around 3:00 pm. I was really the one more excited to wait, this being my first CD4 count since starting ARVs.
So some brunch, a bit of hanging around, a med refill and even a movie session at Festival Mall later, it was time for the verdict. We trekked back to Ate, and waited anxiously. Finally the call came in. The lab wasn’t ready to release the hard copies, so they just dictated the result to Ate over the phone. O and I both tried desperately to read her reaction, and figured that at least one of us had done well, as something caused Ate to mouth out a smiling Oh! as she wrote on her little paper.
Putting the phone down, she teased us a bit with a beaming Hmm!, refusing to read the results out. She handed us the piece of paper, as I heard a drum roll in my head. This is it. This is really is it.
On the piece of paper, next to our initials, were our respective CD4 counts. The good news was that O’s count went up 57 points, and that was absolutely exciting. And mine? From my first CD4 count of 343 back in San Lazaro Hospital in May 2008, to my first at the RITM in August 2008 of 328, my present CD4 count was... JANJARARAAAAN... 484! O as in OMG! Up 156 points! Woohoo!
My worry was suddenly replaced by a whole onslaught of emotions. I wanted to jump, wanted to cry, wanted to pump my fists in the air… of course I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and honestly I felt faint… but it was all good. I just had to sit down and take it all in.
What did this all ultimately mean for me? I could and should stick to what I’ve been doing the past six months.
Taking medicines religiously? Check.
Eating right? Check.
Sleeping early? Yawn. Check.
Working my ass off? Check.
Advocacy? A definite check.
Keeping sane? Check.
Blogging? Check.
Keeping tabs on HIV documentaries? Check.
Harassing stupid people who discriminate against HIV? A feisty check.
Caring for Baby Nathan, his family and others like them? A bouncing baby check.
Keeping my sexlife barely alive? Whew. Check.
Being content with singlehood? Ngargh... but check.
Staying alive, positive and happy? Check, check and one big CHECK.
I guess one change that this result might trigger is that it’s a big leap towards my telling someone in the family. Aside from disclosing that I have HIV, I really wanted to be able to say for sure that I’m stable, taking care of myself and doing well on the medication. And now that I can, it should make things easier for people to understand and not be too shocked at the situation. Anyways, that’ll be a whole different episode.
After a bit of celebration over dinner to cap the night off and calm ourselves down, I was left with a residual high to enjoy for the rest of the evening. Actually, a natural high that might even tide me over the whole weekend. Absolutely O! As in orgasmic!
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Coming Clean
Finally, I can write about R. We’d met the first and only time earlier this year, when a common friend of ours organized a threesome. My friend and I drove to R’s place, and roarrr, I liked him. He was my type: manly, mature, smart, and very dominant. But being an expert at threesomes, I always make sure the guys I’m with get their fair share of the action. So we did the deed.
R and I kept in touch after that, but before there was any opportunity for us to meet again, I found out that I was HIV positive. And for lack of having an excuse to see him again, I told him.
This thing with R sounds similar with my thing with Mojo, but it was more complicated. Why? Even R doesn’t know this yet, and he’ll be finding out for the first time from this blog entry. That one time we had sex happened on April 7th, while I was waiting for the results of my HIV test. It was after March 31st, when my blood sample was taken, and before April 16th when I got my results. I’m not proud and I realize now how lackadaisical I really was about getting tested.
R basically didn’t take the news of my being poz too well. I knew from the way he bombarded me with messages and questions that he was panicking. And as it was at a time when I myself was in a chaotic state of mind, I didn’t know how to calm him down. He got tested almost as soon as I told him, and it came up negative. But we both knew that wasn’t enough.
It was such a small HIV world, that he found this blog shortly after, probably in the midst of his panic. He even asked me point blank if I knew the guy who was writing it. I denied, of course. And with the truth being in this blog, I had to change my story with him: when I got tested, when I got my results, my age, and even my birthdate. Talk about paranoia, huh? That's why I never wrote about R, because he'd find out it was me.
I was witness to how hard it was for him to spend the next few months just waiting for the window period to expire. And for those next few months, he never stopped bugging me, until I just chose to stop replying to his messages altogether, mostly because I felt he was just dragging me down with him into depression. I knew I held some responsibility for his dilemma, but needed to help myself before anyone else.
So we lost touch, or at least I did, until that fateful day that he sent me a message after the window period passed, saying his HIV retest just turned up negative. I’m sure I heaved a sigh of relief that time and congratulated him. I think his reply was something to the tune of he’ll still be there for me, but I never held him to that promise, not after I dropped him like a hot potato in his own time of need.
So months and months passed, but I do recall getting messages from R. It wasn’t that often, probably just once every other month, asking how I was doing. I’d reply, but still felt too guilty to take too much of his time.
Up until last week, when he sent his usual how-are-you-doing-buddy, which he followed up with asking if he could call so we could talk. I was hesitant, because I didn’t feel worthy of his care and his time. I was also worried because I couldn’t remember all the details of the story I’d fabricated to cover myself up. But I gave in after a few more messages, sent him my number, and we talked.
R started out asking how I was, then moving on to more personal stuff about my family, work and other stuff. I was on to him. He was checking my story out. So I decided, fine, it’s time to come clean. I answered all his questions with utmost truth, completely aware that these same details could be found littered in this blog. I honestly had a smirk on my face talking with him, as if we were playing Pinoy Henyo.
We continued our conversation the next day, which was when, upon being asked again, I finally admitted to being the owner of this blog. It was liberating, probably even for him. He told me he’d been following this blog religiously, never forgetting the suspicion he had all along that it was me. I thanked him, and surprisingly, he thanked me too. He thanked me for triggering this phase in his life, where, as he said, he realized and learned a lot.
Although I'm wondering whether my admission changed his view of me as a person, or whether it changed his view of the PinoyPoz or B.I.T.C.H. writing this blog, either way, I was just appreciative of the time he took to salvage what he could out of our friendship. I know you’re reading this, R. Thanks for listening to – and reading – my story. And thanks for still being a friend. This is just filthy old me, finally coming clean.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
License to Drama
Since being immersed in the world of HIV more than six months ago, I’ve been lucky enough to be given little chances to try my hand at counseling – talking with others who are dealing with HIV. Some who are about to get tested, some who are waiting for results, some who’ve just tested positive, some who’ve just tested negative, some who are concerned about medications, and some who have been living with HIV. I can’t say I’ve seen it all, but I’ve seen a lot. And I think it’s dealing with the emotions which is the toughest thing.
I’ve said before how the HIV bomb being dropped on you can be a really daunting thing. It is, it is. But does it give you all the right to be a bottomless supply of depression and negativity? Is HIV a license to drama?
Well, let’s be realistic. To some extent, it is. A string of days crying, feeling lost, not knowing what to do, worrying about how it will affect the rest of your life, being angry, wallowing in paranoia… all common things. Sometimes they come in phases, one after the other, but if you have it really bad, they hit you with one big blow. Again, common, but I repeat, only to some extent.
So when does it become too much? I think you just gotta listen to yourself. If you’re in the dark about HIV, then do something about it. Read up. If you’re worrying about how it will affect the rest of your life, go to a fortune teller. How your life goes will actually be all up to you. If you’re angry because someone infected you, then go ahead and point your finger. It took two to tango, didn’t it? If you’re paranoid, get over yourself. The world doesn’t revolve around you.
Sound harsh? Well, that’s usually what it takes to snap you back into reality. You need to get over all the negativity. It’s all just going to cause you suffering, which is totally unhealthy and unnecessary. You need to get it all out of your system and realize that it’s not the end of the world. Life goes on. And open your eyes and see that so many people are willing to help you through this new phase of your life.
How bad can it all get? I think the worst would be someone who tests positive for HIV and is unwilling to get the help needed and has lost the desire to live. Someone who thinks "I wanna die! I wanna die! I wanna die!" Who isn’t going to die? We’ll all get there eventually, with or without HIV. For this person, some higher being might appear before him and say, "Your wish is my command." Zap. The End. To state the irony, this person might actually die just waiting for his death, which is a sad life.
A close second may be someone who is about to get tested and can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t stop worrying, or worse, can’t stop crying about it. It’s taxing to have to point out that they haven’t actually tested positive yet. Suck it up! Take responsibility! You wouldn’t need this test if you didn’t take the risk, would you? And if I was caught on a particularly bitchy day, be prepared. You’re getting tested for HIV. I already have HIV. Wanna trade places?
I know, I can be tough sometimes. But sometimes, that’s what it takes. The world is even lucky that I’m not the confrontational type, and am content with merely letting thoughts like this brew in my twisted mind, or go no further than my fingers doing the walking.
But nonetheless, the reality is that HIV should no longer be regarded as a terminal illness or a killer disease. HIV is still a big deal. But it can be dealt with. We can still work. We can still love. We can still laugh. We can still live.
Your license is hereby revoked. So go on, quit the drama, and live.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Bye to Zido
IUPAC name 1-4-azido-5-hydroxymethyl tetrahydrofuran-2-yl-5-methylpyrimidine-2,4-dione. Formula C10H13N5O4. Zidovudine or azidothymidine (AZT), also called ZDV is a nucleoside analog reverse transcriptase inhibitor (NRTI), a type of antiretroviral drug. It was the first approved for treatment of HIV. It is also sold under the names Retrovir and Retrovis, and as an ingredient in Combivir, Epzicom and Trizivir.
Zidovudine was the first drug approved for the treatment of AIDS and HIV infection. Jerome Horwitz of Barbara Ann Karmanos Cancer Institute and Wayne State University School of Medicine first synthesized AZT in 1964, under a US National Institutes of Health (NIH) grant. AZT was originally intended to treat cancer, but was shelved after it proved ineffective in treating cancer in mice.
In February 1985, Samuel Broder, Hiroaki Mitsuya, and Robert Yarchoan, three scientists in the National Cancer Institute (NCI), collaborating with Janet Rideout and several other scientists at Burroughs Wellcome (now GlaxoSmithKline), started working on it as an AIDS drug. After showing that this drug was an effective agent against HIV in vitro, the NCI team conducted the initial phase 1 clinical trial that provided evidence that it could increase CD4 counts in AIDS patients.
Modern treatment regimens typically use lower dosages (e.g. 300 mg) two times a day. As of 1996, AZT, like other antiretroviral drugs, is almost always used as part of highly active antiretroviral therapy (HAART). That is, it is combined with other drugs in order to prevent mutation of HIV into an AZT-resistant form.
Common side effects of AZT include nausea, headache, changes in body fat, and discoloration of fingernails and toenails. More severe side effects include anemia and bone marrow suppression, which can be overcome using erythropoietin or darbepoetin treatments. These unwanted side effects might be caused by the sensitivity of the alpha-DNA polymerase in the cell mitochondria. AZT has been shown to work additively or synergistically with many anti-HIV agents; however, acyclovir and ribavirin decrease the antiviral effect of AZT. Drugs that inhibit hepatic glucuronidation, such as indomethacin, acetylsalicylic acid (Aspirin) and trimethoprim, decrease the elimination rate and increase the toxicity.
AZT does not destroy the HIV infection, but only delays the progression of the disease and the replication of virus, even at very high doses. During prolonged AZT treatment HIV has the ability to gain an increased resistance to AZT by mutation of the reverse transcriptase. A study showed that AZT could not impede the resumption of virus production, and eventually cells treated with AZT produced viruses as much as the untreated cells. So as to slow the development of resistance, it is generally recommended that AZT be given in combination with another reverse transcriptase inhibitor and an antiretroviral from another group, such as a protease inhibitor or a non-nucleoside reverse transcriptase inhibitor.
I had been on my first month on the Lamivudine+Zidovudine combination, so I had been scheduled by the doctor yesterday for a complete blood count. I took the afternoon off from work, and trekked to the RITM, getting there at exactly 2:00 pm. I was sent straight to the lab to have my blood extracted, so the results would be available the same time the doctor was ready to meet me. I never realized it took as little as less than 30 minutes to complete a CBC lab test. Technology rocks.
After hanging out a couple of hours with the other clients there, even having an afternoon snack with the regular counselor, the results were finally realeased and the doctor had finished all the other clients before me. I was a bit surprised by the verdict, another change in medication. The doctor and Ate discussed a bit and agreed they were to make the change. Apparently, my Hemoglobin count had dropped from 140+ units to 100+ units, a side effect of Zidovudine. Ate even pointed out that my lips were a bit pale, something I never noticed myself. The doctor looked under my lower eyelid, and said it still wasn't too noticeable. But yes, they'd shift me over to another medication.
I hadn't brought what was left of my Lamu+Zido meds, so I promised I'd bring it on my next visit. I was given in place of it, solo Lamivudine tablets, plus the new one, Tenofovir, under the brand name Viread. It all seemed like a great move, as the doctor pointed out I'd just have to drink all three of my medications once a day in the evening. One tablet of Efavirenz, two tiny tablets of Lamivudine, and one teardrop-shaped tablet of Tenofovir. Not too bad. When I asked if I'd need to watch out for any side effects, the doctor said there are none. Even better.
So last night, I started my new nightly habit. The doctor advised me to comeback after about three months for another CBC, just to make sure my Hemoglobin has bounced back, but no other problems should be encountered. Hopefully, things will be all good.
Goodbye, Zidovudine.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Half A Day Off
I’m on Day 12 now of my ARV trial, still everything is green and go. And I’m thankful. Two more days, and I graduate to the higher “test”.
I had planned to take Friday off from work to accompany an online acquaintance to the RITM for his first steps since finding out he was positive. Good thing I took U’s advice and sent Ate a text message a day before confirming if the doctor would be there that day. She replied that the doctor wouldn’t be holding clinic there that Friday, and told me to come on Monday afternoon. I relayed the information to my referral-to-be, and he agreed.
So I had a bit of a change in plans, and took just the morning of Friday off instead. I needed to drop by the Social Hygiene Clinic in Manila again, to get the results of the lab tests I had done the week before, and have more tests done.
So I took the trip straight there first thing in the morning, and greeted Dr. Diana Mendoza, who was still alone when I got there. I can’t explain the warmth I feel from all of them whenever I go there. Dr. Diana, Dra. Malou and Ate Luz, and even the utility guy Kuya Gerry have been there since my day 1. I have nothing to hide, nothing else to be ashamed about, and I’m just really comfortable there.
Dr. Diana greeted me with a smile, and asked what more tests I needed done. I reminded her I was there for the lab results of my RPR and Fecalysis, which is when she called an Ate Olive and requested to check with the lab downstairs for my results. Ate Olive was sort of assisting the doctor that time, doing the things that Kuya Gerry would do before.
While waiting, Dr. Diana sat me down and eagerly asked me how I was doing. I mentioned I had just started on ARVs, which made her pleasantly surprised. She found it wonderful that I was up and about being just over a week into the trials, noticing that I was taking it well, and even said, “It didn’t even make you darker?!” Darker? Yikes, nobody told me about that side effect. Oh, well. After all, I’m dark enough. How much darker can I get?
So anyways, she went on asking how it was at the RITM, as compared to San Lazaro. I never felt afraid of admitting to them there at the Social Hygiene Clinic that I had transferred to RITM, mostly because I know they’re not tied to either. It just so happened that they were just across San Lazaro, so it made sense to refer HIV cases there for profiling. I just said that the facilities were better, to which she replied that others had given the same feedback as well. But I explained the real reason why I needed to transfer, about how I was left hanging by the San Lazaro doctors.
She was obviously surprised by the difference of the two centers in handling HIV cases, especially that one could start on ARVs without confinement or disclosing to family. She understood my sentiments, and promised she’d bring it up with the San Lazaro people.
She mentioned she knew of others who had made the same move as well, and that the dilemma with San Lazaro was making it hard for them at the SHC to keep track of their “babies”. Apparently, since they started their HIV screening program there at the Social Hygiene Clinic in November last year, they’ve had 15 cases of positive results, I being one of them. With fifteen being still a low number, they could still keep in mind by face or by codename, so they’d be constantly wondering how we were all doing by now. Technically, we would not have any need to come back to the SHC after the referral to San Lazaro. So she found it great that I was still dropping by there, just so they knew how their “baby” was. It was nice. Their concern is truly, truly genuine.
Some more minutes of chit chat later, Ate Olive came back with my results. Okay, okay, not entirely good. My Fecalysis results were fine, but the Quantitative RPR, which is a test for Syphilis, still came out reactive, of higher concentration since three months before. Yeah, yeah, I got it, and it’s not something to be proud of.
Dr. Diana initially thought of administering another round of treatment, but just told me to refer it to them at the RITM, being cautious that it may interfere with my ARVs, or that they might have a different protocol of treatment at the RITM. I agreed. I then remembered to ask her if they did Hepatitis screening there, which they didn’t. Yeah, yeah, Chronic Hepatitis B. Alas, another possible problem for me. But I’m just thankful that we’re doing the test, something that wasn’t part of the protocol at San Lazaro.
So she sent me down with Ate Olive to get a referral for a nearby private clinic which did the Hepatitis screening. I left shortly, thanking them all, with a note in my hand signed by Ate Marina of the laboratory department, which was my ticket to a discounted price at Jubilee, the private lab along Bambang, just walking distance from the SHC.
I walked there, just a couple of blocks, got pricked yet again, and headed off. It was around 9:00 am, and I was anticipating where my medicines time would catch me. So I took the LRT south to EDSA, stopping at the Metropoint Mall to buy a bottle of water just in time to down my tablet. Then back to Ortigas via MRT, just in time to catch the Robinsons mall opening. I still had a couple of hours of my half-day off, so I checked it out, the mall being on sale for the whole month of August. I ended up just buying a small drinking bottle, supposedly to lug around in my bag just enough for a gulp, in case I’d get caught again outside in time for my 9:30 habit. Oh and I got another one for U, too. Hope he likes it.
So anyway, that was that. A lot done in less than half a day. I was back at work and back to ordinary life. More updates soon. I need to do my research on Hepatitis, and refresh on Syphilis as well. I’m trying not to hide in a closet within my closet, so I’ll just take things in stride. What else could be next?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
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!
Thursday, August 07, 2008
The Big Move
I’m moving. Nope, not moving out of the house, just transferring. RITM, here I come.
I’ve had my online persona for a while now, and through it I’ve been able to meet a lot of different people. Mostly just online acquaintances, but some I’ve been lucky enough to meet. I’ve also been fortunate with the kinds of people I’ve been meeting. It’s been a risk and a great deal of trust every time I agreed to meet someone new, but so far, no regrets. Although they’re of all sorts, from poz to not, they’ve all been great experiences and learnings for me.
Of the poz guys I’ve encountered online, most if not all of them were presently registered at the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine, or RITM, in Alabang. I, on the other hand, am with the San Lazaro Hospital in Manila.
I never knew anything about the RITM before, except that it was in the south of Metro Manila. And it’s far. So I never even tried to learn more about it just based on that. But from these guys, I’ve heard a lot more things about the RITM. They never really told me not to go to San Lazaro or to transfer to the RITM. I am currently in the process of formulating that decision on my own.
Money-wise, San Lazaro is better apparently, since it’s a government hospital, providing most services for free. But I’ve been told that RITM does the next best thing, which is provide a 75% discount to HIV patients, should they need to be confined. I’m not sure if that covers rooms and/or services, but it’s significant enough either way. ARV medication is still free of course.
One other thing I’ve heard is that the atmosphere is better. You’ve heard me rant before about how depressing the conditions were at the H4 ward of San Lazaro Hospital. Apparently, things are more decent at the RITM.
I’ve mentioned before how I enjoyed immersing, or more like fading into the poz crowd during those big Thusdays I’ve spent at San Lazaro. I still do. It’s still an eye opener. But the contrast of that against the atmosphere at the RITM is… intriguing. Apparently, there, there are no crowds, no fiesta-like Thursdays, and as I’ve been told, it would be very rare for poz patients to bump into each other. Extreme, isn’t it? I’m told it’s a good thing, because there’s less politics involved. Politics? Hmmm, considering that we are a society amongst ourselves, politics shouldn’t be too surprising. But as I’m really a loner to begin with, the novelty of the H4 social experience might just wear off eventually. Either way, good for me.
So far, nothing really convincing for me to transfer to the RITM, right? So here comes my compelling reason.
Now you know how I’ve been ranting about the ultimatum that I had been given at San Lazaro, right? About how they let me off last time I was there, telling me I needed to start on ARVs, but that I should come back when I had family, or at least close friends with me for support? It was like the ball was in my court, only to find out I didn’t know the rules.
Granted, I acknowledge the urgency to start on ARVs. Ok, maybe some people would rant back that I’ve taken long enough and should tell my family, or friends at least. But it’s just not the right time just yet. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but haven’t convinced myself to do it. I can’t explain it, but it’s not that easy.
Now the RITM looks like it will be the answer to my problem. One of my “friends” who has become my insider into the RITM referred my problem to them. I didn’t ask him to, but he cared enough to take initiative. Their response? They’d welcome me with open arms. Apparently, I wouldn’t need a support system if I didn’t have it. The important thing was that I get started on ARVs. Furthermore, initial stages of ARV medication could be taken at home, unlike at San Lazaro where they require a two week confinement there when starting on ARVs. I was shocked. Was this for real?!
Okay, the down side is that I’d have to go through the process all over again. The forms, the interrogations, the pity, the stares, and the least I’m looking forward to, the blood tests. Arghhh. I’m still not over my fear of needles, but I guess I’m less stressed about it. I’m particularly looking forward to having my CD4 count tested again, to see how I’m doing so far, after over two months of no ARV medication, relying just on multivitamins and some old-fashioned virgin coconut oil. Wow, I never realized it's been two months. This will be interesting.
So there, I’ve stated my case. And as you may have guessed by now, I’m practically convinced that the RITM is the answer to my problems. I plan to go there next week for my profiling, or what I refer to more as a re-baptism or conversion. And even have a couple of offers from my fellow pozzies to accompany me there. I’ve been so blessed.
Read more about the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine at http://www.ritm.gov.ph/.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Yahoo!
I apologize. I’ve been meaning to blog since yesterday, but never got the time, nor the energy, until today. Finally.
I do have something big to write about. Well, it's big to me, at least.
Yesterday brought some news, the best I've gotten in the very recent past.
Let me introduce… H. This H guy has been part of my journey ever since. A silent party maybe. He’s the first person I told when I got my results. I don’t even remember how it happened, but it was something like we got tested the same week, and while he got his results a day after, mine had taken a while, as you can recall. He told me his was negative, and was eager probably to share my relief when I was to find out I was negative. But that time never came. He knew I was waiting for the results, so I had to tell him. He’d figure it out somehow if I didn’t tell. So I told him my bad news.
Now, the catch is, H and I had been buddies for a couple of months before we got tested. Yes, buddies. Yes, we were a perfect match. Yes, we were doing it. And yes, at times unprotected. So he has been hanging in the balance since mid-March, waiting for the three-month window to pass before getting retested. We’d been regularly chatting during this period. I updated him on my check-ups, and he updated me on his paranoia. Some days he’d feel some things that he thought could be symptoms, other days he’d tell me he felt he was negative. I don’t know how much of this blog he’s read, but he knows about it definitely.
Finally, he was able to get tested this last Wednesday. The three month wait to get tested may have been torture for him, but I’m sure the 24-hour wait for the results was worse. I told him I’d be praying for him, and pray I did.
Finally, the day came. A Thursday again, coincidentally. Big day Thursday. He sent me a text message, saying he didn’t know how it happened… but he was negative. Negative! OMG, that’s the best news ever! And I’m sure I had a my share of a sigh of relief at that moment.
I always thought his next steps would be to head on off, go on with life, disassociate himself from me, and just be more careful in the future. But he surprised me. In the next message he sent, he told me to take him off my guilt-list and add him to the reliable-buddies-list… It was just really, really touching to hear that. Something I didn’t ask for or expect at all.
I’m truly blessed to have encountered someone like him. I knew before that we were good together physically and intellectually, but now emotionally as well. I’m sure he knows it’s him I’m talking about. And I’m sure he’ll agree, this was a very unusual, but great start to one hell of a friendship.
At least I know one person is celebrating this weekend… And so I say, STAY SAFE!!!... in every possible way… wink, wink…
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brain Overload
My Thursdays still have not managed to let my guard down. Again, it was H4 day. I was out of the house by 7:00 am, and a tricycle and a jeepney ride later, I reached the HIV ward of San Lazaro Hospital. It was just 8:00 in the morning, and lo and behold, I was first on the list!
I don't think they expected anyone that early, so the nurse just sat me down by the seats by the door of the building to take a breather, before they took down my vitals and while they finished their duties and reports.
After some time, more people poured in, and I gamely sat in their midst. It was not exactly in my comfort zone to mingle, but it was nice. I was finding it a bit hard to keep up, but I surprised myself by being comfortable in that crowd. There were around 20 of us there, and I got acquainted with a number of them, as they introduced me as "the new one".
I noticed a couple of them whip out what looked like white bank passbooks. I read what was written. Health Regimen Booklet. Hmmm, so I figure this is how their ARVs are monitored. I wasn't looking forward to getting one of my own though.
By 9:00 am, the doctors came. My usual doctor wasn't there. So the other doctor and a new one were on hand. They started off making rounds of the ward and checking on those confined. By about 9:30, they headed for the doctors' office and I was called in shortly.
She already had my folder on her desk, but still asked my patient code. She then flipped through another folder, where she was looking for my CD4 test results. Finding it and taking it from the folder, she sat down and looked at me sternly. She asked me some old questions again, like who knows, if I had a partner, and how I'm dealing. She reiterated the need to tell someone in the family. Rebriefing I guess.
At this point, she stared at my results, and asked me what I wanted to hear. Whether I wanted to hear the number flat out, or just if it was bad or good. I sort of giggled a bit at the question, and just said I wanted it all. She still held back a bit, looked at me, and said it was below 350. My mind raced at that point, but I kept a straight face. Normal is above 500, so it's not that good. But how far below 350? The critical 200 was below 350. Absolute zero was below 350, too. Tell me! Tell me!
Finally, she said it. My CD4 count is 343. Not entirely bad, but not good either. Almost midway between normal 500 and critical 200. She then said that she'd advise I get started on ARVs. But not before more counselling. And not before I have a support system behind me. Family preferably. Friends possibly. Anyone really. I said I was planning to tell my sister, and realized this development just made it more urgent. A lot to think about in the coming days.
The doctor then sent me off, but not before leaving me her mobile number, so I could contact her when I was ready to get counselling with whoever I chose.
I was honestly a bit defeated that I wasn't doing as well as I was feeling. I bid goodbye to my new friends out front before heading off back to work. I didn't even drop by the Social Hygiene Center. I was planning to just check in on Dra. Malou and the gang there, but suddenly didn't feel like it. Maybe another time, when I was less distracted.
I'm a bit glad that I have work to think about, and colleagues to laugh it up with and get stressed out by. But I won't be avoiding this for long. I'm left with a lot to think about right now. Head... hurts... hehehe.
