By: David "Jax" Kelly, JD, MPH, MBA, President at Let's Kick ASS (AIDS Survivor Syndrome) Palm Springs
It was my first time waking up in a hospital bed. Seventeen years ago I was in a private room at the end of an unusually quiet maternity ward. Attached to a vein in my left arm was one of those drip bags that was supposed to rehydrate me. No flowers or cards. Not even my partner of 14 years.
But I was grateful he brought me here.
It's unlikely that he brought me to that hospital out of gratitude. I already had been sick for weeks. A cough had lingered so long I could only sleep if I lay on my side at a certain angle. When I bent over in the shower, I had to make sure I took a deep enough breath so I could come back up. At the hospital I was shocked to discover I weighed 144 pounds. My home scale said "65" and I thought the first digital number wasn't working. It turned out the scale had been switched to read in kilograms. But there's nothing like being sick if you want to lose a few pounds!
In the hospital, I had time to assess a lot of things in my life, including my long-term relationship. Laying in a hospital bed and being told you have AIDS can change your world. I didn't have one of those "life flashing before my eyes" moments, but I do remember thinking that if I died I felt I had lived a life with many accomplishments. I could die happy. But with a new lease on life, I started thinking of other clichés: "life's too short", "live life to its fullest" and most of all, "clean house".
I began a journey with a therapist who helped me come to terms with my diagnosis. Physically, I had not seroconverted for over twenty years since the pandemic begun. Emotionally, I had witnessed the shock and horror of uncontrollable disease on a generation I was supposed to gain wisdom and grow old with.The therapy unpacked a lot but took a break when I felt strong enough to find my own path.
The partner is now the "ex," and a new boyfriend has become my husband. My gratitude is shared between my new loves: him and members of the HIV positive community. The weight I regained is thrown around to advocate for HIV and aging services. My breath is stronger and louder to create meaningful change. Now I live with purpose, focus, and ability.
Disclaimer: Guest blogs do not necessarily reflect the views of the ADAP Advocacy Association, but rather they provide a neutral platform whereby the author serves to promote open, honest discussion about public health-related issues and updates.
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