Getting married to HIV
Sep 10, 2010
Lucy (not real name), a 32-year-old single mother, recently discovered that she has HIV. She shares with us her emotional experiences
Lucy (not real name), a 32-year-old single mother, recently discovered that she has HIV. She shares with us her emotional experiences
Humans, sometimes, find themselves in the position in which the foetus lies. This happens, especially, when the going gets tough and they are crying out to mummy – the person who gave them life.
I never used to believe it. I thought it was a couple of coincidences. And we call it science? Yet now, as I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the millions of ways in which I was a total fool; I find myself curling, as if I were in her womb, asking her how I could have been so stupid.
I know the counsellor told me not to blame myself. It could happen to anyone, she said. But I do blame myself. I am vocal about everything that I consider important to me.
My child’s rights. The treatment that I expect from my boss. Returning my book when you borrow it. So how come, when it came to something as important as my life, I could not be vocal about using a condom?
The bravado gone; fear and confusion firmly setting root in the life of Lucy, who previously feared almost nothing. I wasn’t afraid (I blindly called it trust) and look where that got me.
I think the truth is there are still too many of us giving it the odd chance that we won’t catch the virus. Yes, there are those women and children, and even men, in positions where it is not in your hands – I don’t dismiss that.
I have refused to believe that there is anyone who just doesn’t care. And if there is, let me tell you this: It is not the same as suicide terrorism that takes you instantly. This is a lifetime commitment – with real pain, both physical and mental.
I hate to preach, but when I hear that people say it is not so bad since there is treatment, I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. It has been a month since I found out my HIV status.
I have shared my status, done many other tests (I’ll give you all the gory details in time) and now I’ve started treatment. The doctor, a personal friend, told me, as he passed me my first set of drugs:
“Lucy, you know how you have always wanted a wedding? Well, this doesn’t have any of your meticulous plans. No music, no dance, no gifts... But this is for better, for worse, forever.
Once you swallow that first tablet, there is no going back. Or changing your mind. It’s your wedding day...â€
He probably sounded cold... But I don’t think any other statement has ever had such a profound effect on me. Those words will stay within me forever – and keep me in line.
Here is what I understood: You know how they say marriage is hard? This is one difficult marriage, I can tell you. I will return in the next few weeks and explain.
This is a tale of positive living; a tale of hope. But I must tell the facts early. Don’t be fooled when later, I share jokes and talk about the joys of treatment.
It is not easy at all. There is more than you are told, more than you see.
So, please keep safe. And keep the person you are sharing that part of your life with safe, too.
Humans, sometimes, find themselves in the position in which the foetus lies. This happens, especially, when the going gets tough and they are crying out to mummy – the person who gave them life.
I never used to believe it. I thought it was a couple of coincidences. And we call it science? Yet now, as I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the millions of ways in which I was a total fool; I find myself curling, as if I were in her womb, asking her how I could have been so stupid.
I know the counsellor told me not to blame myself. It could happen to anyone, she said. But I do blame myself. I am vocal about everything that I consider important to me.
My child’s rights. The treatment that I expect from my boss. Returning my book when you borrow it. So how come, when it came to something as important as my life, I could not be vocal about using a condom?
The bravado gone; fear and confusion firmly setting root in the life of Lucy, who previously feared almost nothing. I wasn’t afraid (I blindly called it trust) and look where that got me.
I think the truth is there are still too many of us giving it the odd chance that we won’t catch the virus. Yes, there are those women and children, and even men, in positions where it is not in your hands – I don’t dismiss that.
I have refused to believe that there is anyone who just doesn’t care. And if there is, let me tell you this: It is not the same as suicide terrorism that takes you instantly. This is a lifetime commitment – with real pain, both physical and mental.
I hate to preach, but when I hear that people say it is not so bad since there is treatment, I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry. It has been a month since I found out my HIV status.
I have shared my status, done many other tests (I’ll give you all the gory details in time) and now I’ve started treatment. The doctor, a personal friend, told me, as he passed me my first set of drugs:
“Lucy, you know how you have always wanted a wedding? Well, this doesn’t have any of your meticulous plans. No music, no dance, no gifts... But this is for better, for worse, forever.
Once you swallow that first tablet, there is no going back. Or changing your mind. It’s your wedding day...â€
He probably sounded cold... But I don’t think any other statement has ever had such a profound effect on me. Those words will stay within me forever – and keep me in line.
Here is what I understood: You know how they say marriage is hard? This is one difficult marriage, I can tell you. I will return in the next few weeks and explain.
This is a tale of positive living; a tale of hope. But I must tell the facts early. Don’t be fooled when later, I share jokes and talk about the joys of treatment.
It is not easy at all. There is more than you are told, more than you see.
So, please keep safe. And keep the person you are sharing that part of your life with safe, too.