Call My Ass Tigger!

Last night, after spending a couple of hours listening to the local comedian superstar Brad Loekle heckle the Tony's at Therapy Bar in Hell's Kitchen, I said goodbye to JT and his friend Josue and Roger and his friend Jeremy, and I headed home.

I was in bed and asleep by 9:30pm. Praise Jesus.

I was determined to get a full nights sleep, something that has eluded me for more than a week. So, last night I took a couple of over-the-counter sleeping meds, and I slam dunked into the land of Morpheus.

That is until about 1:30am when I woke up, made my way to the bathroom, and regretted all of the thai peppers and fish sauce I'd put on my lunch earlier in the day. Two words for you: Ass Lava. 

Funnily enough, I almost didn't make it to the bathroom because when I stood up the world was doing its own damn dance. Shadows were throwing down a mean samba, and I felt like a motherfucker that had never drank a V-8. I walked crooked all the way to the bathroom.

Welcome to the world of HIV medication.

My entire body, from my spirit to my ankles were vibrating like the Mississippi Mass Choir. I mean, it was what I call double O C (OUT OF CONTROL!).

It was so extra that I ended up taking two more sleeping pills to get back to sleep.

I woke up this morning doing what I call the Tigger...I basically bounced all the way to the bathroom. I was doing the huckabuck in the shower, and I swear I did the Roll Bounce all the way to work. It was too damn much.

Now I've been told this will die down in time, but I sincerely am not a friend of not being able to control my extremities.

Folks have been amazing, and I've received lots of love and advice. But no one's advice could prepare me for the after affects of a nuclear bomb being let off inside your skin. It's no joke people. And not the most fun ride I've had. It's like coming down from a great high without experiencing the actual euphoria. All the drama with none of the pleasure.

I am so happy that ACT-UP kicked ass for years to make sure that meds like these exist. And I am glad that it guarantees me a long ass life unless I do something really dumb or get hit by an alien death beam from planet Tiggerroo.....but there is a cost to these meds...I am happy to pay it...but I ain't so happy to feel it.

Meds Today

Today is the day. I pick up my prescription for HIV meds. And tonight at dinner, I will take my first pill.

I have a great day planned. Brunch with Sohail, and then the Metro North to Yonkers to hang out with Peter.

With dinner, because Complera requires a meal of at least 400 calories, I will take my first pill.

This week, I received much love and support from folks I know and peeps I don't. I received an email to which I still need to respond from someone named Patrick. Patrick said, truthfully, the gift of a non-progressor is really that sometimes we can go for a week or two and not really think about being positive. For ten years, I got to do that. It was a gift....even if it was, sometimes, a lie. (Thank you, Patrick, for your sweet note.)

Until today, Patrick was right. After today. Each night at dinner time, there will be a tiny reminder of the disease with which I live. A little squatter that keeps ignoring my eviction notices.

I am gonna be alright. Actually, I am alright. Actually my life is pretty damn amazing. But I get to be a little bit sad today.

I'm not going to lie. Even when I lie to myself, I try to never lie to you all, my readers. Today, is a day I will never forget. Some people that live with HIV can tell you the day, time, and location that they received their diagnosis. I know where. I know the year, and I have a vague recollection of the month.

I will never forgot today. June 9, 2012.



 

Starting Meds or HIV Sucks

Let's start this way: I have an amazing job with amazing people, especially my co-director Amber Hollibaugh and my Shelter Program Director Jay Toole. I've known them both for years and years before working with them and I love them both dearly.

Though I live with HIV, I am healthy. I am fed. My bills (except my student loans) are paid. I have an awesome roommate and a beautiful dog. My family loves the Hell out of me, and I have seven siblings that hold up their big brother always. I have friends/family/complicated definition folks in my life such as JT Mikulka, Bebe Zahara Benet, RJ Thompson, Roojie, Kamal Fizazi, Sam Matin, Di Sands, Jennifer Molina Balbuena de Hannon, Jason Ruiz, Coya Hope Artichoker, Anh Thu Pham, Betty Tisel and Sarah Farley, Susan Raffo and Rocki Simoes, Rigo and Nubia, my beautiful nieces and nephews, my godson Santiago aka Baby Rufus, Troll Baby and Rebs, Gracie, crazy ass and brilliant Ebony, my brother from another mother and father Carlitos Blanquitos, and so so so many others. I am so blessed and full up on love, and I KNOW that so many folks walking around this earth experience or believe that they have a love deficit. I don't. I NEVER have had. I have ALWAYS in every moment, in my deepest poverty, during the greatest violence, and in my fiercest hurt, and during my most self induced crazy, been held by so many with such compassion that if any one of them walked down to Hudson River park and commanded the River to split open, I wouldn't have been the least surprised. It would be nice though, if they do, if I could at least grab my good chancletas first.

We might be going to Jersey, but we don't have to LOOK like we live in Jersey.

My life changed this week. Only slightly. Only nominally. But it changed.  After ten years of being so very blessed.  After ten years of having my body, and all I've put it through, kick HIV's ass (I am one of those super rare and magical creatures called a nonprogressor......not a super nonprogressor...but a nonprogressor....there is an important distinction that I am about to talk about), my amazing doctor, Steve Dillon at Gotham Medical, recommended that I start HAART treatment.

Nonprogressors go years, in my case a decade, without needing HIV meds. Supernonprogressors never need them. My body just got a little tired. It fought so hard for so so so long. From 25 to 35 it fought a war that it will win but now it needs just a little help. Just a bit. 

PS Dr. Dillon and the practitioners are Gotham Medical, formerly the Chelsea Doctors.

Lets be real. For ten years my body kept my HIV viral loads at or near undetectable ON ITS OWN. My Tcells, are at "normie" levels. Near a thousand (and usually over....most normies aren't even that high).

And, to quote my girl, Lezbehonest....the news that I have to start HAART treatment kicked my motherfuckingass.

I ain't dying. So far from it. I ain't sick. So far from it. I get to start a new state of the art med (Complera) particularly designed for folks like me that have a natural resistance to HIV. The side effects are almost non existent besides some initial fatigue and headaches. I AM SO FUCKING BLESSED.

And today, I broke the fuck down.

My walk with HIV is MY walk. And if I stop to compare it to other folks journey, I have nothing to complain about. But my feelings are real. My experience is real. My sadness and hurt is REAL It's not cute. It's not easy. It's not a tragedy. It's not a crisis. But it is hard. It does hurt. And this transition and its incumbent feelings are all valid.

Thank you everyone who picked up the phone or sent a text today. I needed it. I needed you. I still need you. Thank you. I love you. And anyone else that walks this walk...know that it's gonna be alright but its gonna hurt when you take those first few steps...whether it's a week after your diagnosis or after a decade.

Imma love and live well. So will you.