On Yesterday.

So I was a mess yesterday. Crying, sobbing mess. And when I thought it was one thing, I realized that it wasn't the obvious. It began last week, on December 1st Worlds AIDS Day. My dad passed away from this many years ago and is the reason why I am as involved in volunteering with it today. I mentioned this in a much earlier entry but nonetheless, the calling to exhume this message comes again since yesterday.

Our clinical lecture at Biochemistry was on a patient that was recently diagnosed with AIDS (the more severe extreme of HIV, which he had after a sexual interaction(s) in college) due to an opportunistic infection. The same one my father had passed away. Which I thought I was over with grieving after taking an "AIDS Science & Society" course in my undergrad. That course drained me. Outside of learning the biological mechanisms of the virus, the history of the pharmaceutical interventions for this disease, and the story of how AIDS came about - we also watched documentaries. Many, many documentaries that I found myself in tears after each one of them. Some were educational based like the National Geographic with factual information of those affected in Africa, while other documentaries were filming the relationship between a gay couple in San Francisco. With the latter one the most difficult to watch.

I wonder every day had I had the opportunity to have a conversation with my father again. I would do so much to have that moment, to hold his hand and tell him how much I am intrigued, inspired by his legacy. I want to be simply in his presence to have that dialogue with him that would fill me in so many ways. His relationship is the one I want the most. And I don't even know why. He was a stranger. I have no interpretation of who he is as an adult. My only few memories of him were as a child, sitting on his lap and playing with whatever "toys" were at his home. Which was not much since he was a professor. Books. He had many, many books. And art that he made himself. And cool clothes. That man had so much swag.

My god, knowing how he died really killed me. Just because, I wasn't there to experience it with him. Maybe it was for the best but I don't know how much I can agree with that even as the adult version of myself. I want to pretend it wasn't a big deal, that it was just something of part of my story. But its not the "story" itself that huts but the real loss is the obvious, he is not here. The real loss is not the how, the when, nor the why. God, how I wish so much that he was. I want to know what he would think of me, what he thinks of the people I love, my pursuit in Medicine, my ability to carry a conversation. I want him to like me and the woman I am becoming. I think of him every day and hope he has and is doing the same.

So, here is a letter he wrote me for my pre-school graduation to congratulate me for my 'success'. I hang this letter over my desk to remind me of the work I have ahead of me. And God only knows the amount of work that is ahead of me. I embrace it now, though, much more willingly than I had ever before. I think, ironically enough, it is through my father that I know I can do this. He was able to do so much in his life and I think it is because, he wasn't limited to any specific notion of how his life was "supposed" to be. I would want to believe had I had this conversation with him, he would sat to me something like this:

You are good. You will be fine. Not because of the blood that runs through you or the legacy that I and our family has left behind but because you are conscious of what you dream to be and who you want to be in this world. You do not have to worry about the extraneous interactions that may bring you down. Do not feel obligated to entertain those that care less about you or do not see you as who you are. You are capable and strong. For yourself. Never think less than that because you are of my own ... I love you. 

I really wish there was a way that I could bring him to me. To have this sort of conversation or any conversation. I realize that this may more or less look like this self-pep talk thingy but it is not. This actually means a lot to me and I hope that sharing this with you today, about the yesterday, provide insight of my roots and story that I emerge from. I miss him and pray for him and for those in the past, present, and future that are affected by AIDS. Like any unfortunate disease, fatality steals those that we love prematurely from our present lives. I just hope that one day, one day, I can provide people more time, more leeway - despite some fatal disease like cancer, Alzheimer's, AIDS -  to spend with their families. So that, they can have that one more conversation with those that they love.

On the AIDS topic.

I volunteer at an anonymous AIDS hotline, where people call in with inquiries about HIV, AIDS, STD, and the like. Typically, when someone calls, there's a good handful of questions about some genitalia abnormality or funky discharge and though we can offer some advice on what it may be, we're still not physicians at the end of the day.

The other night, however, was different from the mundane calls from the past. Not only did I speak with a couple of individuals with HIV but also, had a conversation with a man of high risk exposure. Today, I want to speak about three calls that resonated with me.

The first call, though extremely brief, was probably the most consequential. A woman recently diagnosed with HIV recently got turned down by her insurance to proceed with the following and necessary medications to hold her infection at bay. Her tone was angry, and her frustrations came through in her voice. I wanted to fight along with her; she had every right to be so. We fantasize and glorify the notable headway we've made in the medications, the progress we've made to find ways to prolong the life of a person with HIV, and even some new prophylaxis measures that would change the face of the AIDS epidemic. And yet, though there are these exhilarating solutions in our present world, it all comes with a monstrous cost and now, an insurance-company Cerberus that will DICTATE the prognosis of your HIV diagnosis by withholding your treatment. Sickening.

The second call I received, I had to recommend Post-Exposure Prophylaxis (PEP). A procedure, used for those that may be exposed to high risk scenarios, are given a cocktail of drugs that may decrease the chances of the virus transcribing into one's cells. Sure, I get a bunch of calls about the best time to wait to take an HIV exam (about 6 weeks, for "reliable" results. Gives the body enough time to create the antibodies needed to measure in an HIV exam. CDC recommends 25 days, however, this is only the majority of people. 3 months for those that are immuno-compromised, e.g. chemotherapy, auto-immune disease, transplants, etc.) or about how HIV is transmitted, but rarely and I mean rarely, do I actually get a call where there is someone that may be at high risk of HIV. I can hear the quivering in his voice, his sometimes nervous giggle as I attempt to make the situation seem less like a death sentence.

During training for these calls, we learn the facts, what to say, how to say it, et cetera. But you just never think that you'd need to pull the big guns out of your arsenal. I hope he listened and considers this option. Not just for the possibility of preventing other infections but more simply, for himself and his health. This is the imperative. This man, this individual case is not a statistic, not a potential risk of infection. He is a human being that has the options available to him to use to not become a person with HIV. The crazy thing is, what was on his mind was his partner and what he'd say to him about this and not him. I hope he can understand that though as important as his relationship may be to him, if he does not take care of this now with the resources available for him (i.e. PEP) there will be no him that would be enjoying any relationship.

The last call was a man with HIV for over a decade that resembled the story of my father. He was ousted because of his diagnosis and now, is exhausted with fighting this thing. At this point, the infection has allowed a number of O.I. (i.e. opportunistic infections), which now spread to his brain. He wants to end it, right then and there. He joked that now that he said he wanted to kill himself, would there be an ambulance at his door. I said, no since we were an anonymous hotline, I did not have access to him or where he may be located. I think he wanted to see if I would, though, had I had the resources. I almost felt a sense of disappointment when I told him there wouldn't [be someone with him] because I think in the end of the day, he just wanted to be with someone. To talk with someone or to sit without a reason or agenda.

People eventually identify themselves to be their diagnosis. He has forgotten who he was as a human being, because let's face it, this diagnosis has consumed his life, his hope, and his ability to fight for anything, let alone his own life. This man was suicidal and even more scary, he found a few good 'friends' willing to euthanize himself and take him from his pain. We spoke about the stigma of HIV and how prevalent it still exists in the 21st century, the gay community, Stonewall Uprising, in between all the suicidal thoughts. We ended the conversation sort of obscurely. I wanted to pray for him. I know he didn't ask for a prayer, nor did I tell him I was going to do so. I know, I know prayer doesn't erase his diagnosis nor the feelings he had today, but I pray that he remembers or experiences the life without the diagnosis. Even for a day. I think anyone deserves that, that freedom that lies in a healthy life. Makes you appreciative when you can wake up and not have to worry about your health.

If you didn't know, my father had passed away with AIDS. I do this [volunteering], so that I can help those that faced the same hardships as my father. I unfortunately was unable to give him the support that I'd like to believe I give these people, even if it may across a phone line.

Feel free to send me any questions about HIV, AIDS, etc. what constitutes as high risk, and so forth. My blog line is open.