The diagnosis
by Brandon Braud
As a gay male, I believe that getting tested for HIV/AIDS is important. Before I was diagnosed, nothing indicated that I should be concerned about having it. It was simply time. A week later, I got a call on a Wednesday afternoon while at work. I heard my doctor's voice telling me that he was leaving the country for a conference and would be gone for two weeks but that he needed to call and give me the news first. When he said my test came back positive, it was surreal. He needed me to come in to have more extensive blood work done to see how far along this really was. So I left work at my regular time and went to the office to give blood.
Later that evening, I saw friends of mine. We had dinner and laughed about other stuff going on. It may sound odd, but I was as normal as I had been the hour before I got the call. I went through the rest of my day as planned, went home and went to bed. The next morning I got up and got myself ready for work. I had taken my shower, dressed and was ready to walk out the door, when it all hit me. For the first time since I talked to my doctor, I realized that my life had forever changed. I called work and explained that I needed the next two days off for a personal situation.
A defining moment
During the next few days, I got myself involved in a HIV-positive group, started seeing a nutritionist and signed up to get a massage once a week. I got really proactive to make sure that I was doing all the right things physically. On the weekend, I began the task of telling all of my friends. I found myself comforting my friends in their grief over this news. Most of my friends at that time were in their early to mid-30s and had lived through the horrors of loss that happened in the early days of HIV/AIDS. It didn't strike me as strange that I was doing the comforting, even though I was the one who had tested positive. We cried together a lot.
Out of all my friends, only one had a bad reaction. He was a previous partner and could not believe I could have allowed such a thing to happen. That was hard. I beat myself up enough over the change in my life and didn't need any help. We exchanged some harsh words and took a break from speaking to each other for a few weeks. My only thought at the moment was being honest with my friends and doing what I needed to do with this new situation in my life.
Then the reality that my life was forever different hit me like a freight train on a crash course. I've heard it said that there are certain defining moments in your life and this was one of my most powerful. I had to make a choice. Did HIV have me or did I have it? The answer to that question has forever changed my life. I have HIV, and in that having, I choose how it will affect my life. It has been over five years since my diagnosis. So far, I am one of the "lucky" ones and I have been able to remain healthy without any medical assistance.
Loving another HIV-positive person
I have been in three relationships since my diagnosis. Another defining moment in my life came when my partner of two years died from complications of AIDS. I knew of his status and of his chances when we first met. I felt the fact that we were both positive would make our life together much easier. Boy, was I ever wrong!
Having HIV was a struggle for him to come to terms with. He had all the best doctors, medical treatment, everything. But he lost his resolve to fight it. He gave up, moved back home, got really sick and then became very angry with me, which I couldn't understand. My therapist and I had a long conversation about it. I came to realize that his anger with me was because I was healthy, HIV-positive and still living. I understood that it was not going to be easy walking the rest of this journey with him. But I knew in my heart that he loved me, and I wanted to be there for him as I said I would.
Very soon, my partner started showing signs of dementia. He ultimately came to terms with dying, found peace and left this world with a soul full of understanding and love I watched a person slowly die a painful death from HIV -- a person I loved and grew to really understand in his last few weeks of life.
As troubling as it was at times, I stayed there with him emotionally. We went through this dying process together at every step. It was painful to watch him suffer for so long. He refused any type of medication. He moved home to die. That I knew. And I found myself transformed from it all.
He was devoted to his family. After his father died, my partner had become the "leader" of the family. This was a role he accepted, even in the last months of his life. He hoped to get the devotion and support he had so selflessly given back in return. And in the end, he got some of that but not in the measure he needed or deserved. That was heartbreaking to watch. His family lived in denial for the most part until the final hours of his life.
By sticking with him until the end, I got a great gift from my partner. He gave me a moment that I will have until I breathe my last breath. I got to walk with him during the last piece of his journey to his place of crossing over. In all of this, I have become even more aware of the importance of stopping the spread of HIV. It was hard for me to understand why he chose to leave and stopped fighting. But I accepted his charted course and made the journey with him to the end. I held his hand and felt his soul leave his body. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced or will ever again. He is now in a better place with knowledge and insight into everything. Now he is OK. That has become my salvation.
Where do I go now?
What do I do with my life after this? How does it all come back together? For nine months of my life it was nothing but my partner and his dying process. When the end came, I had more of a feeling of acceptance than sadness. My thing to take away was this story, one that keeps revealing itself, that watching him die gave me the resolve to help others live.
I found a voice to speak out on the importance of understanding survival in these times. The message I want to get out is one of personal responsibility. If you are infected, being in control of your status -- and not having it control you -- can bring about a better life. You can protect yourself from becoming infected and not live in a vacuum of fear that stops you from being intimately involved with those of us who are.
Braud is the front office administrator at the Human Rights Campaign.
May 16, 2002