A POZ Experience

Your stomach Drops. The mind and the heart race. The images of the only representation in the media you have ever seen run through your mind. Angel from the musical Rent. Justin from the show 13 Reasons Why. Vic, Ben, and Hunter from Queer as Folk were those characters for me.

The diagnosis: HIV. The Fear: a painful and agonizing death.

I always told myself it would never happen to me. I always tried to be careful, but I made my choices that led to this. Do I wish I didn’t have it? Yes. Do I regret how I got it? No. I fell in love with one of the best people in the entire world. I knew he was Positive, since he told me everything. But I didn’t let the stigma or fear prevent me from loving someone who deserves love and so much more.

I knew there was a possibility I could end up with it. Because, back then, he wasn’t on any medication. As a prevention, he tried walking away from me. Yet, I just couldn’t let him go.

When you are younger, you develop preconceived notions, but you really have no idea how bad something is until you experience it for yourself. The day I found out is the day I will never forget. My partner was in the hospital after having an appendectomy. They had tested his blood and urged him to get help with his HIV. Then they told me to get tested, so I did.

When the results came back I was sitting next to him in his hospital bed. I tried to hold back the tears because my hubby had just been through something traumatic. I knew what the results would be, but hearing it made it real. I shook it off. I was afraid, but unlike so many others, I had someone who had gone through this and would be there for me through it all.

We agreed not to tell our families, since his side can be very close-minded. At least, not until we were ready to speak our truth. I told him I wouldn’t because the one thing I didn’t want was for people to blame him. He already felt bad enough. Living with HIV and keeping it a secret proved very difficult. Rumors amongst my friends swirled around. My friends told me to leave him or to be careful, because they weren’t sure. Nurses showed up at my house begging me to get help.  The pressure was on.

On top of the pressures of work and hiding, we were on the lookout for a third for a throuple. Something we were searching for, prior to the diagnoses. Dating was a whole different ballgame. Not only did we have to find someone who was open to a throuple, but they also had to be okay with our status, which we always disclosed upfront.

We experienced ghosting, even after many messages telling us they wanted to meet up. People wishing us dead. People confused about how a throuple works.

One person even asked, “If I and one of you needed a kidney, who would you choose?” Meaning, which one in the throuple is more important? That is a really fucked up question. How do you choose one person’s life over another.

It was very difficult and hurtful. It felt like I wasn’t a person but the HIV itself. People couldn’t just be kind and honest. Even people who said they didn’t have a problem with our status would ghost us. It takes nothing to just say, “Hey you two are really nice, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Everything took its toll. After several years of not dealing with our status, my husband got very sick. It started off so slowly and then rapidly progressed out of nowhere. He started getting severe headaches. I had never seen him in so much pain. I rushed him to the emergency room.  When we got in, they had to keep him overnight, since they weren’t sure what was going on. They had to run many tests.

By the end of the night, they finally gave him a room. When we were getting him settled in, we were in the middle of having a conversation, then he started becoming incoherent. His speech became sparce, and what he said didn’t match what he was trying to say. I had never been so scared.

The doctors decided to do a spinal tap to get a better understanding of what was going on. They found meningitis and shingles. The meningitis had caused speech and motor function issues, and the shingles attacked his nerves in his back causing issues with his legs.

They quickly moved him to isolation and started treatment. Because of how contagious meningitis is I couldn’t stay with him. It was killing him, and I couldn’t even be there with him. They expected me to go home, knowing he was fighting for his life.

All the while, I was shaking uncontrollably. He is my entire world. I couldn’t just leave him there. I had no choice. I went home and couldn’t sleep. And still, I had to go to work, since we needed to pay our bills. My hubby was the apartment manager of the complex we lived in, and part of his job was maintaining the complex and picking up and dropping off actors for the company.

I had to help his boss do those things while working full time and visiting him in the hospital every day. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I didn’t care. All I wanted was for my hubby to be okay.

I also made sure to call his family, because I didn’t know if he was going to survive. He spent over a month and a half in that hospital. The doctors did everything they could and began treating his HIV. I also finally began medication for my HIV.

He survived, but the doctors told him he may never walk again. After being checked out of the hospital, they sent him to a physical therapy facility for another couple of weeks. I continued to work at his job and mine while visiting him.

He pushed himself very hard. He continued to tell himself and the doctors he was going to walk again. He never gave up, and neither did I. When he left physical therapy, he left in a wheelchair, but he still had feelings in his legs and could walk very slightly.

His mother came to stay with us, so she could help him with his recovery. I am so grateful for her. By the time she left, he was walking with a cane. Something the doctors told him probably would never happen. He now runs, stretches, and exercises, with full mobility.

After everything we had been through and finally getting the help we needed, I finally decided to tell my family and friends. My hubby’s family knew, and I was tired of hiding. I got the reactions I expected.

My family was always so supportive of me. My mom took it the hardest, I think. She was just so worried for me. She asked me if I ever thought about not being with my husband. I told her no. I wasn’t upset at her question. I knew it wasn’t coming out of anger or hate. She asked me what I needed, and if I was going to be okay.

I explained to her what I think everyone should know. If you are on a medication, it is truly lifesaving. Not only does it help you recover, but it is also preventative. Once you become what is considered undetectable, meaning, there are no copies of the virus detected in your blood, you can no longer infect anyone else.

Or as it is promoted, Undetectable = Untransmittable.

It has been 10 years since my diagnosis, and 7 years of being undetectable. I am so thankful to all the doctors, who not only saved my husband’s life, but saved mine as well. I beg anyone who is reading this… If you or someone you know is HIV positive, get help!

I also ask those who aren’t poz to open their hearts and be kind. You never know what someone has gone through. If there is anything I’ve learned through my experience, it’s to take chances and chase your dreams, because you never know when or how you will go.

Also to seek help. It may be difficult and you may struggle, but things are easier when you have people you can rely on.