As I Die Living 02/03/07 (Writings)

As I Die Living
Richard Owens Harris

About six years ago, my doctor informed me I was infected with HIV, the virus that leads to AIDS. Fortunately, it was an early detection but, nevertheless, filled me with great apprehension and dread. My first task was to inform my immediate family as I had been assisting in the care of my completely invalid mother including bathing, dressing, feeding, and administering her insulin injections. This I did immediately and was met with multiple responses. Of course, having five brothers and two sisters with different levels of understanding the disease was a major factor in those responses.
Most of them assumed, because I was gay, I had become infected through sexual contact. However, my second task had been to inform the few sexual contacts I had been involved with, including my partner of fifteen years at the time. The results of these testing showed none of my sexual contacts to be infected and that left only one source of possible exposure, my job as an HIV/AIDS Project Manager.
This job included counseling, partner notification, case management, and testing of high-risk individuals of all ages. The testing, at that time, was done through blood drawing and lab analysis of that blood. I can only believe my ten year exposure led up to my infection through a needle-stick injury or some other type of infected blood exposure. Whatever the source, the fact remained I was infected and it was not going away.
There is a belief system that promotes the idea that God, or a higher power if you will, sets events in place in our lives to prepare us for the future trials we will face. I do not know if this is factual but do know my experience and knowledge of this disease has been a two edged sword in many ways. While it allows me to understand and communicate with my doctors more easily, I still face the knowledge of where it ultimately leads.
Having assisted others to the point of death from opportunistic infections and educated many more, including myself, on the possible outcomes from an infection, I am also pretty aware of what my most likely future holds in store. That future appears to be approaching much quicker than I anticipated.
My partner’s initial reaction, while understandable, was very disheartening for both of us I believe. Added to this, about a month or two later, we discovered he had prostrate cancer which became a much more immediate concern. With agonizing fear on my part and what I assume was devastating decisions on his part he elected to have surgery. The surgery proved effective in removing the cancer and we began the process of healing both physically and emotionally from these double disasters.
Now, six years after my initial infection, I no longer assist with my mother’s care out of fear of passing the virus to her. My relations with my siblings, except for my two sisters, are tenuous at best and in some cases I have been informed of my eternal damnation. My two sisters do their best to empathize and understand but my infection is another one of those subjects, like my being gay, that is never discussed between us face to face which has been the way of my family throughout my life.
Of course, I must own my complicity in this since I participate in their desire to remain silent by not prompting such discussions my self. I have put in place my will, my health care surrogates, and my choice of disposal. All of which I discussed briefly and gave copies of to my sisters but that has been the depth and breadth of our conversations.
My partner and my live in companion have also been informed of these wishes as they were the ones I asked to carry them out. Yet, here too, we do not discuss the issues other than an occasional remark or look of concern about my health and medications. In this too I must own my complicity since I feel compelled not to worry them with my own fears and demons.
Strangely enough, as I feel and experience the weakening of my health and body, I find my self more consistently concerned with daily stressors of debt and financial obligation. I have attempted to do what I can to alleviate those concerns by asking for assistance and accepting what I can with dignity. However, my partner’s offer to pay for my medications I felt necessary to turn down because it seemed a charity offered through pity that gave me no opportunity to maintain my own self-respect from my perspective.
On New Year’s Day, my partner of twenty-one years now, informed me he no longer wished to have sex for reasons of his own but still wanted to maintain the relationship somehow. While this pains me beyond belief, I can only respect his reasons and support the man I have and will always love any way I can. It is a decision only he can make and does not lessen my love for him.
In truth, I must admit I had expected such a choice many years before and even more so recently. Nonetheless, expectation and anticipation cannot lessen the pain of realization (if that makes any sense). Not to minimize the pain, I know intellectually it is life on life’s terms but emotionally battle with my hurt daily as I feel one more source of hope and help slip away.
My live in companion is a constant source of help during illness but his fears appear to be mostly for his welfare if I should become disabled or die. It is natural for him to feel all of this but in many ways he is more dependent on me than I on him. In truth, I often wonder how long it will be before his fears cause him to leave out of an instinct for self-preservation.
I know this is a grim picture I am painting and am not trying to lay blame or elicit sympathy (well maybe a little). I just feel so alone and surrounded on all sides by concerns from which I have no defense or relief. These are the daily demons I battle with even as I present to the world my earnest trust in God’s grace.

Good has come from all of this in many ways that are difficult for me to explain. I have experienced a re-affirmation of my beliefs in mercy, grace, and love. I also believe I have begun to understand more clearly the meaning of such things.
My mother, my siblings, my partner, and my live in companion I love now more deeply than before. That love is as much for my perception of their shortcomings as for their heroic attempts and actions toward me. Each of them has, in his/her own way, confirmed their love for me as well as their concern for my well-being.
Along with these efforts, they have shown me the true face of God, as I understand him, to be multi-faceted and unlimited in his point of view toward me. I feel my self beginning to preach a little here but will continue on. It is only through words I can best communicate as that is one gift I have always had.
I now understand more clearly why, in the beginning, was the Word and Word was God. How powerful words are to all of us. I truly believe words have power both to kill and to heal.
It is my hope my words, these words, will help heal and perhaps soften even the most hardened hearts. I know how egotistical this seems but I also know I come from a long line of healers that believed in the power of words. It is with this in mind that I write and perhaps it is to heal my self most of all I hope to accomplish.
My life, though not without its trials, has been one of rich and varied experiences that prove there is indeed victory over death. Though at times I did not and still in some ways do not grasp the full depth of these experiences, I have not only learned to survive I learned to live!!! What a victory indeed!!!
The details of my experiences would most likely seem arbitrary and meaningless to most while appearing untrue to the other participants, as their perspectives were naturally different. In truth, I have come to realize memory is a fickle thing and often distorts or even rewrites those experiences. The multi-faceted interpretations of each single event amazes me even now and reminds me of the biblical verse “that no prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation. 2nd Peter 1:20”
Yes, I seek solace in words ancient with meaning written by those with varying perspectives based on their own life experiences. And not solace in just ancient words, but the interpretation of those words from one language to another. So even I have become “… the prisoner of the Lord…Ephesians 4:1”
I cannot claim to know how these words may affect those who read them. I can only claim they are the best I have to try to explain my perspective. I am filled to overflowing with love, dread, hope, fear, and many other conflicts.
Perhaps I will write more before the final breath leaves my body, perhaps not. Whichever is the case, I have found some comfort from expelling these words from my thoughts by this exercise. If any find fault with that, so be it.