A Tale of Two Rings
Hi, my name is Michael and I've been living with HIV/AIDS for over 18 years now, I'm one of the clients at the Catawba Care Clinic, and I'm here to put a face to the information you just heard by telling you a little bit about myself.
.	But to really tell you about my story, I'm going to have to tell you the stories about two other guys. But don't worry about remembering any of our names or dates or anything like that. All I want you to remember when I'm finished are these two rings on my finger
You see, this first gold ring represents the 10 year relationship that I had with my first partner, Randy.
I had met Randy down here in NC and we moved up to Ohio (where he came from) so that we could open up a pet store. Around about Sept 1992, Randy was sick for the whole month. At first we thought it was the flu, and then perhaps a flare up of an intestinal disease he had called Chron's disease. The doctors never could figure out what was wrong with him; but after a month of being sick, Randy started feeling better again and we just let the situation slide. However, the situation keep hanging around in the back of my mind. especially seeing all the PSAs (Public Service Announcements) airing on M-TV about getting tested for HIV. So just before Christmas of 1992, I went to the Canton City Health department and got tested. It was really easy (and still is today). They took some blood and gave me a number. I returned two weeks later with that anonymous number and they gave me the results. I remember it was this nice middle-aged nurse, who looked like she could have been my mom, who told me, on the day after Christmas, that I had tested positive for HIV. If I close my eyes for a minute, I can still see the surprised look she had on her face when I didn't react to the news. Always being kind of a level-headed guy, all I could explain to her was that "It's 92, and I'm gay, of course I'm positive." Of course not all gay guys back in 1992 weren't infected with HIV, nor are all gay guys in 2010 infected; but it sure seemed that way back then. Many of my friends were becoming sick, and some had already died. All the while, the news reports on TV were saying the same thing was happening in cities all around the country.
So Randy and I both started off the new year of 1993 by going to an Infectious Disease doctor (just like the doctor at the Christopher Clinic associated with the Catawba Care Coalition) and found out that, yes, we were both HIV+, and the HIV was so progressed that we had both already reached the state of having AIDS. Unfortunately Randy was already so sick that even though he tried some experimental drug trials, there was nothing really that could be done for him. I wasn't as sick yet and I started taking AZT as that was the ONLY medicine there was back then. The AZT made me so sick though that I was actually afraid it was killing me faster then Randy was dying, and I quit taking it so that one of us could stay alive to bury the other one. Just a short year and a half after getting that AIDS diagnosis, I brought Randy, who was just a month shy of turning 30, back home with Hospice care after he had a short stay in the hospital. Nine days later on May 25, 1994, in a hospital bed in our living surrounded by our cocker spaniels, several friends, and Randy's mom, Randy died after he said he loved me and took a final breath.
I was only a little luckier than Randy. I wasn't quite as sick as he had been, but I still thought that within two years I'd be just as bad off as he had been, especially since I had quit taking the AZT because of the side effects. There just weren't any other meds on the market to take years ago, so it was only a matter of time before I got sick. Two years after I buried Randy, I ended up in the hospital very sick with PCP, a very severe type of pneumonia. Of all things, I was in the hospital on my birthday as I turned 34, and I very nearly died. (but thankfully, as you can tell since I'm here today, I didn't die.) After getting out of the hospital, I tried some other meds that had finally come out; but they made me throw up every day, so eventually I quit taking them too. Of course that let the HIV rage uncontrolled inside me. Two yrs after having PCP, I was back in the hospital again (on my birthday again, this time as I turned 36). It was a touch-n-go situation for several days, as I tried to survive having "regular" pneumonia with such a damaged immune system. Just like the time before when I was in the hospital, the doctors pumped me full of as much meds as they could, and told me that they couldn't do anymore and that I just might die.
Though I managed to make it back out of the hospital again without dying, the next five years or so were very hard. I kept trying different meds, because I had a lot of different side effects - mainly hives and throwing up. One med made me very fuzzy in the head and so I had to quit driving. I had to quit my job. I had to go onto disability. I had to apply for food stamps. I had to visit church food handouts just to stay alive. I call those years my "sick years" and they sure were! It was a pretty miserable existence during that time, going on and off meds, losing my job and so much more, all the while depressed and grieving my lost partner Randy.
But through those dark days, I had some support. First there was a whole family that Randy and I had met that I called my "Ohio Family" and then there was a best friend that stuck by me. Because I had been so sick and believed I might not live very long, I had decided that I would never have another partner; plus I didn't want to leave someone standing by my grave crying like I had stood beside Randy's grave crying . Well, love doesn't always do what we think it'll do, and love had other plans for me.
	This second ring represents the 10 year relationship I had with my second partner, Jim.
For Christmas in 2004, I brought my friend Jim with me on a visit back home to meet my family in NC. By this time, everyone already thought we were an item, though that's not how I thought of us. As I said I didn't want to commit to anyone because I was afraid I was going to die. However, an awful lot of years had gone by, the meds I was on were much better with fewer side effects, and I was much healthier. It really didn't look like death was so close anymore and that I just might have a chance at living life a little longer.
I realized though that if I was going to keep on living that I was being very foolish on two accounts. 1) I was dumb not to stick to my meds everyday like I was supposed to, even if they did make me feel sick every once in a while; and 2) I was stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth when love had already been knocking on my door.
So before we left to return to Ohio, I made two commitments on that trip. 1) I promised to Jim that I would always take my meds so that if he ever had to stand by my grave it would be when we were both old and gray; and 2) I committed to actually calling myself and being Jim’s partner. So instead of celebrating Christmas 2004 as our first anniversary together, we celebrated it as our 4th year together, since we had really been in relationship that long even if I had been too scared to admit it.
Those two commitments did me a whole world of good too. Up until then, I had gone on and off meds so much that my health had been pretty bad and things like the HIV viral load (the amount of the HIV virus in my blood) and the cd4 count (a way to measure the immune system) had been going up and down for years. After 12 years of being positive, by finally sticking to my meds everyday and having the happiness of being in love and in a relationship again, I finally had stable numbers from my blood work to prove that my immune system was doing much better and that the meds had actually knocked the HIV down to the lowest level possible.
After several move years went by though, I started having several very eerie coincidences to 14 years in my past. In February of 2008 (just two year ago this month!), Jim was sick for most of the month. At first we thought it was the flu as that was going around at the car dealership where Jim worked. He was sick a few days and then well a few days. Finally, he got sick around Valentine's Day and just couldn't shake it so we took Jim to the doctor. After numerous blood tests, Jim’s doctor couldn't figure out what was wrong with him except for an abnormal white blood cell count. and by March 1st decided that Jim needed to go into the hospital for further testing. After nearly two weeks and being trapped in the hospital for a weekend because of a blizzard, I found myself once again in the hospital on my birthday (this time I was 46) receiving bad news; but this time it wasn't bad news about me, it was bad news about Jim. Not only was Jim positive; but he had AIDS with an incredibly high viral load, along with 3 tumors of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma - a very severe HIV-related cancer. After 60 horrible days of hell in the hospital with blood transfusions, antibiotics, critical care, HIV meds, several rounds of chemo, and either being unconscious or delirious, Jim wasn't getting any better (matter of fact the tumors were continuing to grow!) and the doctors couldn't do anything more to help. So once again with help from Hospice, I took a partner back home. Nine days later on May 1, 2008, surrounded by a different set of dogs and different friends, Jim passed away.
Just like Randy had been born month in July, so had Jim. Just like Randy had died in May, 14 years later so had Jim.
Because I was so poor, I had to literally beg my friends, and post on the web to ask people to donate enough money that I could pay to have Jim cremated. When I got his ashes back, I held a service with a dozen of our friends and family at Randy's grave, on the 14th anniversary of when Randy had passed away. I spoke a eulogy and some friends said a few things. The after I sprinkled Jim's ashes on Randy's grave, we released red and silver balloons into the air and said our goodbyes.
If you were to ask me how I survived not only being HIV positive, having AIDS for 18 years, taking all those meds, being sick enough to be hospitalized several times; and also losing two partners, I'd have to tell you the same advice I give everyone.
There's only one thing that you can't fix and that's death. Everything else, no matter how bad, can be fixed, or at least made better; but it's going to take hard work and patience. Boy! Those are such easy words for such difficult actions though. Sometimes you'll have to work your ass right off to get things to improve and sometimes it'll take the patience of Job while you wait for your actions to make that improvement.
	No matter what you have heard or think about it, undiagnosed and untreated HIV is still a terminal illness just as it always has been.
This first ring reminds me of sixteen years ago when Randy died in 1994. He passed away because he had gone undiagnosed and untreated for so long that there was nothing that could be done. But back then the doctors and scientists were just beginning to figure it all out and there were no meds to help Randy in time.
This second ring reminds me of just a few years ago when Jim died in 2008. He too passed away because he had gone undiagnosed and untreated for so long that there was nothing that could be done. The catch with Jim's death though is that the meds have been vastly improved and he could have been treated so he didn’t have to die. Although Jim paid the ultimate price, it was the stupidity of me, my doc (because Jim had gone to all my doctor appointments with me) and even Jim himself that he didn’t get tested all those years he and I were together. We all knew better and now Jim is dead from our foolishness.
But you don't have to be foolish like my doctor was, like Jim was, like I was. We've come here today and told you about the dangers of HIV; but we've also told you that there is treatment and help so that if you do get tested and you are HIV+ it doesn't have to progress to AIDS and you don't have to die.
But there's the catch. Remember I told you how it would take hard work and patience to change things for the better in your life. Well the hard work here, is that you're going to have to make that step to get tested. (which really isn't very hard work if you think about it), and you're going to have to have some patience while you wait for the results - really though, that's not a lot of trouble to go to, to make sure you're getting the right care for yourself.
Remember my two rings. Both represent someone who didn't get tested in time and didn't get treated in time. Please don't make the same mistake they did and end up only being remembered by a ring on someone's finger.