What’s Your Status?

An alarming new study from the Washington D.C. area surfaced over the weekend.  The study claims that as many as 14% of the gay men in D.C. are infected with HIV.  Out of the 500 men surveyed,  40%  admit that they had never even been tested.

Ronald Johnson, the director of Aids Action sat down with the local Fox affiliate to talk about this alarming new study.

He brings up several good points.  The most poignant for me is when he says that it isn’t just about condoms.  We need programs that value gay men’s health in general.

Have you ever been tested?   If you haven’t let me tell you that it is a very simple process.

However, getting to the point in which you are mentally ‘ready to get tested’ is not quite a simple process.   I know from experience on this.

I’ve not been shy about sharing personal experiences of mine up til this point so this won’t be any different.

It was the Spring of 2006.  By this time everyone knew I was gay (Gloria included, I’ll tell that story in another post).   Gloria didn’t ‘allow’ me to see Zoe due to my ‘affliction’.  I could barely afford to pay my rent, child support, insurance and other necessities let alone retain a lawyer to fight her.  So I dealt with it and kept it bottled inside.

Looking back at it now I was probably pretty depressed.  I fell into the trap that so many gay men fall into, but rarely talk about.

I would put on a cute outfit and a pretty smile and head to the local gay bar Somewhere in Time… to drown my sorrows in alcohol.

Now before you go calling me out and saying “you said you couldn’t afford your bills…”  I rarely paid for any of my drinks at the bar.   I DJ’d at the bar Friday and Saturday nights after working at the restaurant and drank for free.  I had a limit of 3 free drinks per night, and then people would buy me drinks either to get their song played or to may a play at me.

It was fast paced, it was fun and there was always an endless supply of men willing to show me love.

I say it like that because I feel that is what my life was missing at the time.  I had been ostracized by practically my entire family.  My mom wanted nothing to do with my lifestyle.  I had tried to come out to her three or more times at this point. She always managed to steer the conversation down the road that she wanted, which was keeping my ‘problem’ in the closet.  My dad was god knows where and I couldn’t fight Gloria for not allowing me to see my daughter.

I worked at the bar, and it was a very small town.  I knew pretty much everyone’s back story. I avoided guys because they had been with certain people, but if a guy showed me some attention and he appeared ‘clean’ it was fair game.  Many times HIV status was never discussed, even after an unprotected sexual encounter.

This went on and on that entire Spring.  I don’t want to come across as a promiscuous skank, but a man that I had let down my guard and fallen in love with the previous fall had just broken my heart badly (I’ll tell you more about him in another post).  The random sex increased in an effort to erase him and feel loved again.

I racked up an astonishing 14 one night stands that Spring.  I was secretly disgusted with myself.  I had recently gotten in contact with an old friend from High School, Jeanna.   She lived in Columbus and offered me a room to get the hell out of the situation I was in.

I gladly accepted, started looking for jobs in Columbus and two weeks later made the move.  I had told myself that I was going to end this cycle with the move.   That happened.  I stayed celibate for the next 6 months or so.  I used this time to reflect.

The more conversations I had with  Jeanna, the more worried I became about my health.  I had never been tested.  Given all of my past transgressions I had reason to worry.   I had to mentally prepare myself for the results.  I prepared for the worst.   I prepared to hear the words “HIV Positive”.

Jeanna and I talked for months about this and one of the biggest things she said to me was “if you find out early, it’s not a death sentence”.

Those words stuck with me day and night, week after week.  Until finally one day I decided to go to the local health clinic and get tested.  Knowing I was positive wouldn’t be as bad as questioning whether or not I was.

I expected form after form and doctor after doctor but the process was rather simple.  Grab a number and wait.  I pulled number 55, I remember that vividly to this day.

I waited nervously until the now serving sign showed my number.  I remember when it got to 54 I almost chickened out and left like a coward, but I didn’t do that.

The number flipped and they called me back.  I talked to the counselor a bit while he took some blood. While he was drawing my blood I remember him asking me “How are you going to react if you are HIV positive?”

“Get on some kind of  drug therapy for it, I assume” was my response.

He left the room for about five minutes and when he returned another person was accompanying him.  This scared the shit out of me.  They handed me the test results and asked how I was going to keep it this way.

I questioned “Keep it this way?”

The man who had drawn my blood said: “Yeah, your test came back negative.  How are we going to keep it this way?”

I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off my chest.  He and I discussed condom use and other safe sex practices briefly and then  I left the building.

The whole process took about 30 minutes, and that includes my wait time.  It was well worth it because now I know my status. What’s your status?

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