I took another day off today from work, intending to go for this month’s med reload. To beat a deadline, I spent the morning going to and from Pampanga to submit some reports for work. After having lunch at home, I was on my way to RITM in Alabang. I got there at about 3:00 in the afternoon.
Walking to the building, I saw Ate going towards the other office with a bilao of pansit. She didn’t notice me and I wasn’t exactly there for the food, so I still headed for the clinic, expecting someone else was there while Ate was gone. But it was locked. So I reluctantly headed for the back office in the other building, dreading that I might walk into a celebration of some sort. I got to the door of the office, but the shy boy in me took over and I chickened out. I turned and walked back to the clinic and stood out on the corridor waiting for someone to show up.
After about 10 minutes, Ate passed by and I lurked closely behind. She welcomed me and asked how I was doing, and relayed to me how thankful Baby Nathan’s Dad was when they last came in for a check-up. I just laughed and smiled, not knowing exactly how to accept credit that wasn’t completely mine to take.
She took my Regimen Card from a pile, and told me to wait while she got my ARVs from the pharmacy. I was enjoying the time alone, when a familiar face showed up. It was Y. He seemed to recognize me and after a few minutes of awkwardness, I reminded him that we’d first met at San Lazaro back in April. Apparently he’d been confused whether he really met me there or it was just his imagination. He laughed finally realizing we went way back.
A while later, Ate came back with my ARVs, and a couple of more guys I’d met before came in to hang out. Together we trekked to the other office, and I was comfortable to be going with someone I knew. Stepping in, there were around 10 of us there. And after introductions all around, it was time to chow.
I honestly didn’t get to eat much, just like at the Christmas party, and I think I get that way when there’s a lot going on. And with everyone breaking up into pairs or little groups talking about everything under the sun, the observer in me was trying to take all the information in.
At one point, Ate walked into the office with a bunch of ARV supplies, where I noticed some big green boxes that I could not compare to the ARVs I’m getting now. My eagle eye didn’t fail me, and I read the label which said Protease Inhibitor, another type of ARV which was not part of my own regimen. I’m not really sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. But seeing how the container was comparable in size with a can of Pringles made me think twice about being envious.
One of the things that struck me most came from one of the last persons to walk into that room. Let’s call her S. S is HIV positive, and she got it from her husband who worked overseas as a seafarer, one of the at-risk groups for HIV. If I understood right, she was single now, either because she was widowed or divorced. She mentioned she had also lost a child, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask whether the kid was also HIV positive.
I actually first encountered her back in May or June amidst the standoff I was having with the San Lazaro doctors, when an online poz friend suggested I transfer to RITM and gave me her name and contact number in case I needed assistance. I never got to contact her that time, since I met U soon thereafter, who brought me to RITM.
Apparently, S is part of one of the HIV support groups, and she discussed the issues with the ARV supplies with us who were there. Apparently, the Global Fund grant that is in motion today is meant to supply the Philippines with ARVs and support up to 2010. But the wheels are already in motion for the country to qualify for another round of grants for the years after that.
The worst case, she says, is that there is an agreement between the Department of Health and the Philippine Health Insurance Company, or PhilHealth wherein PhilHealth is to shoulder ARVs for a number of years. Although I didn’t understand completely, she kept mentioning the word cooperative, and how the cooperative would eventually become self-sufficient and self-sustaining in being able to fund the need for ARVs. I’m imagining it’s a cooperative formed by and composed of those living with HIV and AIDS. If that happens, it would be very empowering, don’t you think?
So anyways, with so many details to remember and so much to think about, I was about ready to head home. I hitched a ride with and a couple of the guys, and S and another lady from another HIV support group left with us as well. S told more stories, about how she recovered from to skin and bones, and about how she was part of the group that lobbied for the grants that now provide us free ARVs, and that back in 2002, there was none to speak of. It was humbling to be in the presence of one of our apparent heroes who paved the way for us who currently live with HIV in the Philippines to be able to do just that. To live.
I, S and her lady friend got dropped off at Shangri-la Mall, where we chatted for a good 20 minutes more right smack in the middle of the sidewalk. S and I exchanged numbers, and she said that if I needed help in disclosing to members of my family, they would be very much willing to help. She did, thankfully, acknowledge that disclosing was a difficult thing and should happen in my own right time. She was also convincing me to consider getting involved in the HIV support groups, oblivious to how much I’ve already been dabbling in the field of advocacy. She used the metaphor of stepping out of my locked box, which I took to be my HIV closet, and I wasn’t planning to brag about how far out of my closet I’ve been strolling either. She probably didn’t know that there were people from her side of the fence that actually tried to keep me in my closet.
I dunno if it was the Bikolano blood in us both, but I felt a good pure vibe in S, despite her being part of one of the now seemingly notorious HIV advocacy groups. I was elated at how she explained the issues behind the future of our ARV supplies, which she did much better than the wicked Remedios lady that I watched on TV back in December. So with that, we went our separate ways and I headed home with another day of information overload, my first for 2009.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Overflow
Thursday, May 29, 2008
H4 Galore
Another big Thursday for me. I left around 7 am, but not before talking with K over the phone. He just called to send me off on what he thinks is another regular work day for me. Little did he know.
So I made it to the HIV ward of the San Lazaro Hospital a little past 8 am, had myself registered, and my vital signs taken. H4-2008-054. Weight is still the same, blood pressure normal, temperature was a bit high, I’m thinking because I had barely taken a breather before they sat me down to take it. But I was feeling fine.
I noticed some of those metal medical clipboards on the counter, probably records of those confined. I noticed that the patient codes were written on the top of the clipboards, one of which I read as H4-2008-059. I realized, geesh, at least five other people have already been diagnosed after me. And whoever this is, his condition has called for him to be confined. I’m pretty lucky then.
I walked into the waiting room, and sat down. There were three other guys already there. One of them I recognized to be the guy trying to smile at me when I was there two weeks ago. A bit surprising, since he has been checked-up at least twice this month already. He recognized me, smiled and went back to reading his newspaper. The four of us continued waiting since the doctors hadn’t arrived yet.
After a while, Y walked in and started chatting up with all of us there, who he knew apparently. It was nice to see a familiar face. He still treated me as the new kid, which was nice.
I heard voices from the reception counter, later on realizing it was the other doctor. She called for me, and instructed the nurse to hand me my referral slip for the CD4 count. I was pointed to the direction of the SACCL, short for STD/AIDS Central Cooperative Laboratory. Their name was also on my diagnostic results which I got last April. Apparently this is where most of the STD related tests are done, such as Hepatitis, HIV, Venereal Disease, etc.
But before going, I noticed the guy getting his vital signs taken, looking at me. He was cute. He seemed like an older guy, smaller, fair, manly, a bit stocky, dignified, and a bit shy. My type. I don’t know what his name is, but he was looking at me, and I was looking back. I still wasn’t hell bent at using the ward as a cruising place so I picked up my heels and just headed to the SACCL.
Walking to the next building, 8 or 9 people were waiting before me. I had to spill over to the waiting area outside the building where one other guy was. He asked me what I was there for, explaining he was there for a medical test for Hepatitis required for his application to the Philippine National Police. I don’t remember what I answered but I’m sure I couldn’t have been vaguer. Hahaha.
When it was the turn of the guy in front of me, I could hear from the voices in the lab that something was wrong. The guy first walked out with a cotton ball taped to his left arm. Going back in, he later walked out with another cotton ball on his right arm. Still they weren’t done. I don’t know where the hell else they took his blood, but this was scaring me quite a bit already!
Then my turn came. Oddly enough, they asked me to write my real name on the referral form, contrary to what I believed was a confidentiality law for HIV infected persons. If I were a fraction of sensitive and defensive, I would’ve put up a fight. But I wasn’t, so I penned my name away.
Then I saw the needle. It was bigger than my usual and it hurt going in. Then I felt the lady pushing and pulling and wiggling it around in there. My blood wasn’t flowing?! It was a problem with some adaptor they were using. It was hurting like hell! I’m still squirming right now recalling the pain. Then she just said sorry and pulled it out. Next arm. She had left me with a big red pock on my left arm, and had no blood to show for it. Thankfully she got it on the second try. I’ll need my phobia to heal again after this.
So anyways, I headed back to the ward, half wishing I’d catch “the guy” still there. I went in to see my doctor in the doctors’ office for less than 3 minutes, faced another one of her pity-faced are-you-sure-you’re-okays, and headed out. I didn’t see him there. I wasn’t sure, but good thing I waited because he had been talking with the other doctor the same time I was inside. So anyways, I saw him again, we exchanged nods a bit, but never talked. Y felt the need to keep me company, so I didn’t get the chance to work the guy over. I hope I bump into him there again sometime.
I’m beginning to look forward to San Lazaro. I’ll be back at the ward next Thursday, mostly to discuss my CD4 results with the doctor, but partly hoping to meet more pozzies as well. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll see “him” there again. Man, I’m a slut!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Oh God!
I was pleased to receive a message from Y this morning. Remember him? The guy I met at the HIV ward? After exchanging a few messages, he ended saying “Give thanks to the Lord for everything you have.” He’s not the first person who’s indirectly told me to seek the help of The Higher Being for what I’m going through right now. So I ask myself, should I suddenly be more God-fearing because I am not well?
I am not an atheist. I am Roman Catholic, and was brought up to believe in God. I studied in a Catholic school run by Dominican priests. I even served as an acolyte in more than a handful of masses. I do believe in God.
Throughout my life, I've prayed a lot. I usually pray to Him for strength and clarity. I pray that he allow me to muster up the guts to face my fears. I pray to Him to bless the people I love. I have even prayed to Him to take me, during times that I was down.
But I know why he created me. And I know why He keeps me here. It’s not my destiny to be happy. It’s my purpose in life to make others happy. I’m here to be used by others. I’m here to please. I’m here to make life better for others. I’m here to take all the crap.
I know it makes my life sound so pathetic, but I’m honored to be given this responsibility. I make people smile. I make them laugh. I give them physical pleasure. I make them feel good about themselves. I make them feel loved. I make them happy. That’s what I feel God wants me to do. And that’s what makes me happy. Pleasing others.
But I’m not religious. I repeat, NOT religious. I do not pray every night. I do not pray before and after meals. I do not go to church every Sunday. Not even now that I got infected with HIV. My relationship with Him is still as before. I know I’m still blessed. I have a lot going for me in spite of this. I’m happy that I can still make people happy.
Believing in God is one thing, but the Catholic Church is a whole other dimension in itself. In this predominantly Christian country, mainstream Catholicism comes along as too self-righteous. And there’s no better example of that, than the way it frowns on homosexuals. The way they try to turn people like me straight and lead them to the “right path”.
How can I support people who discourage the exact being of who I am? Who are they to turn their backs on someone who He created in His own likeness? Are they saying that God made a mistake when He created me?
“I believe in God”… but omit the part about “the Holy Catholic Church”. Until they learn to accept and respect every living creature on the face of the earth, they’re misinterpreting the Word of God.
God loves us all!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
The Thursday
Walking towards the HIV ward, I didn’t know what to expect. How big a crowd would I be in there? Trust me, I’m no good in crowds. I was just relieved that I didn’t see a line formed a block away from the door.
Walking up the steps, I passed some seats where people were waiting. There were about 5 or 6 of them there, but they were all a blur to me. I was trying not to make eye contact. Paranoia, I’m guessing.
I approached the nurse up front, and said the doctor asked me to drop by. The nurse asked if I was there for a checkup. I answered that I didn’t think so. She said that she’d list me down if I was there for a check-up. I just know that the doctor was expecting me back today to give her the results of my lab tests. It didn’t seem like a real checkup for me. At least, not the checkup that I was familiar with. She said the doctor wasn’t there yet, and asked me to sit in the waiting area.
So I sat. There were three others there, a woman with a younger guy on my right, and a guy across me. I saw the woman was wearing a face mask, and realized despite this, I couldn’t tell which one was the patient. I noticed the guy across me trying to work in a smile while looking my way. Was he flirting? Or was he just being friendly? Was he new here too? Or was he laughing at me for being the latest victim? Paranoia again. Turns out he was poz too. I realized that when he was called into the doctor’s office.
One after the other, they rest of the people there, less than 20 of them, got called in for their checkup. They would spend just between 5 and 10 minutes each inside. Not bad. Routine monitoring, I guessed.
Then one older guy approached me. He introduced himself. Let’s call him Y. He didn’t seem like he was there for a checkup. Sort of supervising… and mingling. He seemed to know everyone, and asked what I was there for, and asked me to have myself put on the list out front. He said it was standard procedure, despite my trying to explain that I didn’t think I was there for a checkup technically. But he came across a bit territorial to be honest, so I just followed his advice.
The nurse took down all my information – patient code, code name, weight, temperature, blood pressure – after which Y led me back to the waiting area. He was a bit more relaxed now, and started a conversation. Apparently, he’s been poz for a while now, but definitely in the peak of health, and was there to oversee the procedures. Sort of assistants to the doctors. For public relations and other concerns if I understood right. He was having such a difficult time asking me if I was a confirmed poz, which I found funny. So I just blurted out, “Yes, I’m HIV positive”. I think I relieved him of his burden. He explained most of the going-ons there that moment, and introduced some of the personalities there. My nerves eased up at this point and he got me talking a bit about myself.
In the midst of our conversation, the doctor walked in. Seeing me, she smiled and signaled to wait a bit, probably to give her time to settle down. The next time she stuck her head out from the door of the doctors’ office, she asked what my patient code was. A few more minutes later she called me in. So I was right, I didn’t have to line up with the others in the “checkup” queue. Whew.
Sitting down in front of her desk, I handed her my lab results, as she ranted about why she was late that day. She took a look, and said I was ok. Say what? She repeated that my lab work says I’m doing good, and just reminded me that I was scheduled for my CD4 test on the 29th. I wasn't even in there for five minutes. But anyways, another whew from me. I was just happy that I was ok.
So from there, she sent me off, and I left some final words with Y who I passed. He took my number and gave me his, as he said he’d like to invite me to join their group sometime. Something called Pinoy Plus. I’ll tell you more about that when I find more out.
So I left, a bit triumphant. I just had to spread the good news, so I dropped by Dr. Malou Tan at the Social Hygeine Clinic across the street. She was happy, and I was happy. Nurse Luz and Dr. Diana were there as well, and they were happy to see me, too. Dr. Malou is great. I feel she truly cares. She’s like a mom to me now. Maybe she can be my HIV mom.
So anyways, it was 10:30 am, and I had accomplished a lot. I started my journey to work. Back to my regular life. Or my former regular life. The parallel world I live in, where Thursdays are just like any ordinary day.
