Being Positive: Part 1

On September 3rd, 2020 I went to a local hospital’s ER, as I spent the last week with COVID-19 like symptoms as well as vomiting everything I had ingested for a week’s time. Upon being admitted to the ER routine covid, blood, and urine tests were taken, and after several of hours of vomiting and sitting in an ER room alone a doctor finally came in around 9:30p. He told me that my covid tests were negative, but then he asked if I was aware of my positive status. I told him no and asked him what I was positive for, because I was quite puzzled with what he meant by positive status. He quickly looked down and that’s when he said, “Your HIV positive status.”

I simply replied with, “oh I didn’t know.” He started to apologize for giving me information I was unaware of, and asking me if there was anyone I could call to be there with me. Everything became muffled around me; I could no longer hear the noises of the hospital around nor the doctor next to me trying to console me. I remember thinking “how could this have happened? You’re always so careful. Did he do this to me? Is this what he meant by he couldn’t be with anyone?” I quickly snapped out of the shock I was in and called my mom who was parked nearby waiting to hear why I was sick. I called her and told her that she could come in and wait with me; keeping any details out of the conversation.

The moment she walked into the ER room the tears came uncontrollably and I began to sob as if I were just told I had months to live. My mom rushed to my side, hugging me, and asking “what’s wrong baby?” I began to cry and shake even harder feeling her hug me, because the touch of another person meant that I was awake and that this moment was real. The words didn’t come out right away, but eventually I was able to tell her what I had just been told.

I don’t remember much after that though, but my mom recounted later on that I kept repeating myself. “No one will ever love me because I’m dirty” as well as just saying “I’m dirty.”

Early the next morning I was admitted to the hospital; not for being HIV positive but for gastrointestinal issues that may or may not be related to HIV. I quickly noticed during my duration of my hospital stay that nurses steered clear of me after reading my chart. There was a total of three nurses between day and night shift who were tasked in looking after me, and at first I didn’t think too much about this. One day I woke up and thought to myself, “they’re scared of me. They think they’re going to get it too.” The stigmatization of HIV quickly became apparent in my life, whether that was internally or from friends and family around. Early on I made the decision to only tell those who need to know and those who can be there for me as I navigate through this new diagnosis.

After being discharged from the hospital I tried to find the strength and mental stability to tell my ex-partner about my recent diagnosis. Those internal questions of whether or not he “did this to me” kept swirling in my head, so I knew that I had to reach out for my own peace of mind. There were a few texts exchanged about the matter and I didn’t hear back from him on whether or not he was positive or if he had even gone to get tested himself.

Although the few friends and family I’ve told love me I can see their hesitations. Their hesitations to share drinks, to hang out, and simply to even touch me. Everyone has their form of hesitations, and they really do go unnoticed. I haven’t quite come to terms yet whether it’s the hesitation that hurts, or if it’s the person who I’m receiving them from that hurts more. I first started to really notice and become self-aware of these hesitations when trying to date again, which was way too soon for me to even try. A guy I was seeing in early February of 2021 had expressed that he was scared to kiss me, because he was scared he’d get HIV from my saliva or that if my lips were chapped that they’d cut him and he’d get HIV that way. This was the moment that solidified for me that I would never be looked at the same again. I would no longer be just me, but it would be HIV and me. It would always be a distinguishing factor about who I am and whether or not someone would want to be around me; let alone touch me.

Despite being undetectable now, I fear the day that I accidentally slice my hand with a knife or fall and scrap myself to the point where there’s a bit of blood. I don’t want to see the hesitations to help me in those moments or that look of fear in someone’s eyes when seeing I need assistance. I’ve already seen this in myself though when I tripped and scrapped my knee heading to see my mom. When I went inside of her apartment I was dripping blood on the floor and I was so scared for her or my sister to clean up the mess that I made. Although looking back at that moment I’m trying not to judge or criticize myself so harshly as I was only told a month or two prior.

It’s only been about 10 months since I received my diagnosis, and I’m still coming to terms with my positive status. Some days are definitely easier than others, and there are days when the smallest hesitations keeps me in bed for days. Still very few people in my actual life know about that I’m HIV positive, meanwhile here I am giving the world a glimpse of my experience. I’m hoping to keep sharing my experiences to give myself the courage to tell more people in my life of my status, and to find a voice to speak on behalf of those living with HIV and our shared experiences.

There hasn’t been a day gone by in which I haven’t been scared to disclose this information with the world, so here I am learning to share and open up about being HIV positive.

I am not dirty.

I am loved.