October 21, 2016
On this date 1992, in Houston, TX, I was told I was HIV +, followed by a hug from my doctor, after a moment we sat down and he proceeded to tell me that I should think of getting my affairs in order since my life expectancy was two to three years. He told me the only medication available was AZT, my T-Cells were 664, and handed me my first prescription and that I should start taking it as soon as possible.
I went to my car, sat and started crying, I remember feeling an immense void of absolutely nothing, only images of my ex partner and friends that had already died or the ones that where in treatment and their quick decline in health, how well they looked one year to six months prior and now were dead or in a hospital bed waiting to die. How they were shunned from their families, how in some cases their families would not allowed us "the gay friends" to visit or go to their funerals
The actual news did not surprise me, it would have been a shock not be positive given the fact that I had moved to New York in 1980, then to Los Angeles in 1981 and Houston 1983 and was a young gay man having the time of his life, working for an airline and travelling.
What scared me the most were the images, the suffering, the stigma, the rejection, my family and how all that was going to unfold in my life now, how much time do I really have? I started my car and went to get my prescription filled with a lot of fear.
A week after I started taking AZT in large dosis, there I was, in bed feeling horrible, couldn't hold food down, I didn't have the strength to get up, couldn't go to work. Something snapped in my head, all the images returned and all I could think about was of all the men I knew that like myself were healthy one day and after taking AZT their health started to decline, at that moment I stopped taking AZT. Within a few days I started feeling better, strength was returning and I was able to resume my life.
I went back to my doctor with the prescription and told him what had happened, his reply was "If you are not going to follow my directions I can't be responsible for your health and you cannot be my patient" I told him, thank you and left his office. I strongly believe that moment, that decision, saved my life.
Today, 24 years later I am extremely grateful for that decision. It has been an incredible journey of happiness, sadness, joy, pain, frustration, acceptance, sobriety, sickness and health.....till death do us apart!
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