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....awkward

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:28:00 -0400

Want to know how I cope with troublesome things? I just ignore them. Not the best way to cope with my problems, but it’s worked for me the past twenty-two years of my life.

For a while, I thought disclosing my status to people I care about (and trust) would help me deal with being positive because it’s like a constant feedback loop of emotions because they start crying and then I get upset and then more crying and then OH MY GOD SO MANY FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS.

But then I ran out of people I felt comfortable disclosing to.

So I ignored it for the most part.

Well, I’m not being completely delusional and pretending I don’t have HIV. I go see my doctor. I take my meds every night. It’s become a part of my daily routine. But beyond the snap of the pill box, the quick toss in my mouth and the gulps of water, I don’t think about it.

Then I come across something like this.

“Odd Blood: Serodiscordancy, or, Life With an HIV-Positive Partner.” Hauntingly well-written and completely gut-wrenching because hell, this my life. Or rather, could be my life. Except for the fact that I’m single. And don’t live in Texas (THANK YOU JESUS).

Reading this article stirred up all the emotions that I try so carefully not to rile up. Because my love life, or lack thereof, is a subject that I most studiously avoid thinking about. Because what’s the point?

But I’m 22 year old and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve been kissed, I’ve kissed. I’ve been fucked, I’ve fucked. But I’ve never had any relationship beyond the “Hey, what’s up? I’m horny” texts and messages of the gay hookup world.

Yes, I know it’s my fault because I never really put myself out there, and I’m painfully shy when it comes to meeting and talking to people I find attractive. Also, I’m pretty sure I have no idea how to flirt. I can’t do small-talk because that’s just awkward, and I’m the type of person who lives life trying to avoid awkward situations as best as I can.

And now the HIV complicates things. Because now the potential dating pool has been stratified further into HIV-positive and HIV-negative, in addition to the completely-unattainable’s and okay-maybe-there’s-a-chance’s and the HELL-NO’s.

If I was to go on a date with an HIV-negative person, well, that first conversation would be AWKWARD. Because the first thing I’ll need to mention is my status (and how the hell do I bring THAT up?) And the other guy could very likely have a negative reaction because let’s face it, there remains a ton of stigma against those who are HIV-positive and a lot of ignorance about HIV in general.

I’m being silly. There are more important things to worry about.

But one of my biggest fears is that I end up being one of those old, lonely gay men who never found that person.

And that would really suck balls.

medical reimbursement rates

Fri, 07 Oct 2011 14:47:00 -0400

So I’m leaning towards seeking treatment here instead of the city. Just called my primary care clinic and requested all my medical records.

I’m wondering how my primary care provider (PCP) gets reimbursed by my insurance. Do they get reimbursed per service or per patient? If I remember the lectures from my health policy class correctly, most providers in the United States get reimbursed per service provided. However, if my PCP is reimbursed per patient served, then I guess they’re about to lose a continued source of revenue.

Oh well.

It’s for the best anyway. Visiting the city was starting to lose its appeal since I’m only there if I have a doctor’s appointment. And the constant travel has perpetuated the feeling of being in a post-college/pre-therestofmylife limbo.

What’s funny is that if I get a job that makes over $54k a year, I’m screwed: I will no longer qualify for my state’s ADAP program and even if my employer provides health insurance, I can still be denied coverage because of this preexisting condition.

2014 can’t come soon enough.

umm

Wed, 21 Sep 2011 12:56:16 -0400

Is it weird that I’m fascinated with blood?

The phlebotomist who usually draws my blood once laughed at me because I had said something like, “Blood is so cool.” She laughed because my reaction and interest in blood was a rarity. Usually people are grossed out or just uncomfortable.

I think part of it has to do with the fact that red is my favorite color. And to see all that red being siphoned out of my arm was pretty neat.

That’s not a fetish, is it? Oh god, am I developing a blood fetish? People who are bleeding don’t turn me on, nor does that sight of blood because 1) eww and 2) what are you supposed to do with blood when you have sex? Rub it all over yourself? (Like that one unfortunate time I saw a picture of scat porn?)

I cut the index finger on my right hand yesterday while putting a bag in the back of my friend’s trunk. It was a small cut, but it bled a lot and it showed even after I put on a band aid. Here’s a question: if I’m bleeding profusely from like the stomach, do I have to warn people who are helping that I’m HIV positive? I tend to have violent daydreams in which I’m the hero and killing a bunch of bad guys. This is probably the only situation in which that question is relevant because it’s not like I have the power to dodge bullets. Then again, I always have a healing power like the cheerleader from Heroes.

Ugh, I need a job.

phil keoghan

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 15:23:00 -0400

So I had a bout of sad, hysterical laughter last night. Because I realized that I probably won’t be able to compete on the Amazing Race because of my status.

Possible silver lining? My status makes me stand out from the crowd; thus, improving my chances of being selected.

Probable outcome: CBS doesn’t want to be liable, even if I sign a shit ton of waivers. My doctor would likely refuse as well.

Of all the things that I have learned I can no longer do (like join the Army, for example), this one hurts the most.

Priorities, right?

life so far

Tue, 20 Sep 2011 15:19:00 -0400

Okay. So I had meant to keep up with this blog, but like with all of my blog-related endeavors, I failed. So let’s try again.

Here’s a quick summary of my life since the initial post:

I have told eight people. With the exception of those providing me with medical and social services, I think a total of nine people know about me. Nine because I think a friend told her significant other, which I’m totally cool with. I treat all couples as a single unit when it comes to disclosure since it’s not news that can be easily dismissed.
I live in Maryland, but my insurance is based in New York. This means frequent trips back to NYC. At the beginning, I’ve been told, the visits are more frequent. After a while, I should only have to go back every three months or so.
My insurance covers dental extractions, which means that I can have my wisdom teeth removed! FINALLY. This means either a week in the city to recover or a hazy bus ride back to MD for recovery.
Getting treatment in New York is a bitch when it comes to searching for jobs in Maryland.
I’m still very broke.
I gained back all the weight I lost this summer in like a week. Rice, rice, baby.
I have had two breakdowns since diagnosis: the first weekend I knew, and just last week, when the stress of moving, finding a job, and starting treatment decided to come crashing down on me all at once. I hate crying about myself. I always feel like such an idiot.
Speaking of emotions, I don’t know if I’m dealing with them properly. The way I usually deal with worrisome things is to ignore them. HIV isn’t something one should ignore, but I hate dwelling on things that make me…sad.
On the issue of sad things: it always makes me sad whenever I tell new people. Because they become sad, and I don’t like people being sad about me.
Some silver lining: I have found this feedback loop of sadness to be beneficial since it forces me to deal with my emotions.
Range of initial reactions from my friends when I told them: sobbing, disbelief (I was told to stop joking), and no reaction. But then, LOOOOOOOOOOOVE.
I HAVE THE BEST FRIENDS IN THE WORLD.
SERIOUSLY. BEST FRIENDS.
I generally see myself as an optimistic person. But my status is really making it difficult to maintain said optimism. I really hope I don’t become a bitter person.

There were several days when I forgot I had HIV. That doesn’t happen anymore. I’m seeing a therapist in October, something I am excited about because 1) I’ve never seen a therapist before, and 2) I need a pro to help me figure out what I’m feeling because most of the time I don’t even know.

Not a death sentence

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 13:21:00 -0400

A faint orange line on a white background.

A faint orange line and I am HIV+.

I remember wanting to take a photo of the HIV test. I was curious as to what it would look like in black and white. I had wanted to take a color photo too, for contrast. Not for a keepsake, but rather because it was an interesting image: The white stick, sitting upright. The two lines, the first a vivid red and the second a faint orange. The gray desk and the scattering of swabs, bandages and assorted first aid equipment against the wall behind the test.

Basically, I didn’t want to think about the fact that I, at 21 years old, had contracted the HIV virus, a virus that had led to the deaths of millions of people.

“It’s not a death sentence,” the lady told me.

And I knew this. I had read the article in the New York Times about that groundbreaking study. Most of the time, a partner of an HIV positive person did not contract the virus if the infected partner regularly took medication. The term is “undetectable,” the status indicating a viral load low enough not to register. And with the advances in medicine, people with HIV are living long and fulfilling lives.

Still, I have the fucking HIV virus. Just out of college, unemployed and uninsured. Living with HIV.

I was diagnosed two weeks ago, on a Friday. It took a week for more test results to confirm the rapid HIV test. I submitted paperwork for insurance to help pay for medication. I had blood drawn this past Monday and will see the doctor for the first time after the weekend.

I am writing this blog because it’s a release. There are people I can talk to, my close friends. This I am extremely grateful for. But behind the anonymity of the Internet, I can speak more freely. And who knows, maybe my blog can help someone going through the same thing, if only by letting him know that there are people out there like him. Or maybe my blog can serve as a warning to young gay men to USE CONDOMS.

Ultimately, I don’t write this blog for those reasons. I write this blog for me, as I explore this new chapter of my life. I write this blog so I don’t go insane. I write this blog to remind myself that I have HIV.

I don’t feel any different.

But I know things have changed.