Take Your Time
Tags: Let Go, Spiritual Awakening, Shifting, Self-awareness, Acceptance

Recently, this question was posed:

“What difficult event in your life were/are you able to improve by changing your attitude?”

In autumn 2002, I learned that I was/am HIV positive. The CDC counselor who brought me the lab results, in a genuinely thoughtful approach, tried to direct my attention towards treatment. “Afterall,” he said, “it is no longer the death sentence it was a few years ago. I’m going to make you an appointment with the local infectious disease practice: please, please promise me you will keep the appointment.”

At that point in my life, I knew nothing about living in mindfulness; I certainly wasn’t seeking recovery either. For many weeks, I drank alcohol and used drugs until I would pass out, on the couch, with a blanket over my face, just wishing the world would go away. It didn’t, and I didn’t die as I had hoped. Every time I “came to,” the sun was shining, I was still HIV positive, and so I did whatever it took to render me unconscious.

But I did do one thing right: I kept that appointment. My experience proved disastrous with that local university infectious disease clinic. I know, at this point in my story, you might be thinking that it was only my perception of things. That may be correct in a few of the interactions, but there was one part where no one was to blame. I suffered a critical adverse reaction to one of the medications in a triple-drug pill prescribed for me. About a week into medical treatment, I began having distressing symptoms, including sudden onset of a severe sore throat, hoarseness, leg pain — the deep bone pain type, disturbing and realistic dreams, and eventually fever. When I spoke to the nurse at the clinic, he shrugged it off by saying, “It could be a bug, or it could be a very common anxiety reaction to your diagnosis. Let me know if things don’t improve.” Improvement did not occur.

Back at the doctors’ office, some laboratory tests came back alarming. My red blood cell count had dramatically dropped, liver enzymes were off the scale elevated, and my kidney function began to fail. I was counseled to stop the medication. I did, and I recovered nicely. That experience caused a great deal of fear in me. I suspected, given everything I knew, that the drug must have been the cause. I rationalized that if the medications meant to treat my HIV infection were going to make me that sick when I was feeling just fine without them, I wouldn’t take any more.

Shortly after that, I moved 100 miles west to Knoxville, Tennessee. I had been offered a kindness — to move in with a couple who lived in a large house, and occupy an upstairs studio apartment. One of them had been HIV positive for greater than twenty years; he suggested I consider seeing his doctor at a clinic in Nashville. I made the appointment and traveled the 200-plus miles to see what they might have to say. I met with a partner of the physician Michael saw. I liked her very much, and the office staff and the laboratory people. Their practice was dedicated solely to HIV. The doctor suggested to me that likely one chemical of the three cocktail ingredients in the pill I was prescribed, likely cause the reaction; she admonished me never, ever to take anything with that drug in it. She informed me, “The next time, you won’t have that same reaction, you will die.” She further told me, “You are welcome to be my patient, but for a while, I will need to see you once a month; there is a sister practice in Knoxville if you would prefer.” And I followed her suggestion, felt comfortable with the Knoxville clinic and doctor, and I remained with him until eventually, I moved with a job offer to Nashville. The same female physician then became my practitioner there.

Back in Knoxville, though, ever so slowly, I began to accept my situation in the always helpful even though cliché, “It is what it is” method. I little-by-little stopped existing as someone dying of AIDS to one living with HIV. I started the medications which had been sitting in my cupboard for months; I had been too afraid to start it. I don’t know if anyone else experiences this, but when the internal critical commentary begins, I always “hear” it in my own voice. One morning, making coffee, I knocked over one of the three pill bottles. Internally, the dialogue began. “What? You are a walking chemistry experiment with all the stuff you drink, smoke, eat, snort, pop! And you’re reluctant to take the ones which actually might save your ass?” I started that very morning, faithfully taking my meds. I began reaching out for support from others like me. The shame I carried with this diagnosis evolved into self-acceptance. I started living my life more authentically by taking the stance in treating my HIV status as factual, rather than hide it. Then I learned that I no longer faced that dreadful decision about when to disclose. If one lives his/her/their life openly and genuinely … there is nothing to disclose.

Photo by Magic Bowls on Unsplash

We frequently hear the three words, “Honesty, Open-Mindedness, and Willingness.” For me, and this situation, I had to incorporate these words into an attitude of acceptance. But I didn’t just decide to change; it was not an event, but rather a process in which I had to place my trust.