“To sheath, or not to sheath, that is the question: whether it’s better to unfurl a condom or to risk suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous medical misfortune …”
The warm sun streamed through the plate-glass windows along Adams Avenue. I was stalking through antique shops on the hunt for two small spindle-legged consoles, half-round tables for hallway accents. My safari was interrupted by a chance encounter with Marilyn, a former co-worker and somebody whom I always liked but had lost touch with over time. She agreed to “a cup of coffee or something” and we wandered into LeStats. During our pleasant conversation, I learned that she had retired and now enjoyed being a grandmother.
“Not possible. We’re not old enough to be grandparents.”
She reminded me of how I once counseled her on how to speak with her kids about using condoms to prevent HIV. “I still have the pamphlet you gave me,” she said.
“My goodness. That was almost twenty-five years ago,” I said, a memory drifting into focus. As fresh as yesterday and unfaded by time. Remembering our hushed conversation and the urgent need to share information about condom use in an effort to survive The Plague.
It was the late ‘80s and I had recently moved to San Diego from Los Angeles. I had accepted a job and a new career, but at heart I was still an AIDS activist. I was one of many living with HIV and our struggle was the fight for our lives. AZT was a new treatment, but it could not stop the scourge. Funerals and memorial services and “celebrations of life” were all too frequent. It was the worst of times. If you’ve never climbed gingerly into a hospital bed to hold a dying friend and tell them goodbye, carefully avoiding the IV tubing and needles stuck into skeletal-thin arms, then you probably wouldn’t understand.
“I always admired your courage,” she said. “Coming out at work as a HIV-positive gay man was an act of bravery.”
“You’re very kind,” I said, “but you’re being dramatic. It wasn’t so much an act of bravery as it was an act of timing. I only waited until I had finished probation and was a full-time employee. I knew I couldn’t be fired.”
I sipped my iced berry patch tea. “You might be surprised to know the message of safer sex is just as relevant today.”
“You’re kidding me,” she said with a look of surprise and disbelief.
“I wish I was,” I replied.
“… Or to take arms against a sea of medical troubles, and by opposing end them: to die, to sleep no more …”
“Even though we now have effective HIV treatments, more than 296,000 gay men have died of AIDS, and I’m troubled by the thought of an entire new generation who does not understand the health threat HIV poses or has witnessed the devastating consequences.”
I told her about how 1.1 million Americans are now living with HIV and most new HIV infections are among people under 30. How gay and bisexual men of all races account for just 2 percent of the U.S. population but represent more than half of all the new infections in the United States. How people of color are disproportionately impacted by the virus. How the rate of new HIV infections for black men is about six times as high as that of white men, and about three times that of Hispanic men. How the HIV incidence rate for black women is nearly 15 times as high as that of white women, and nearly four times that of Hispanic women.
“That’s unbelievable,” she said.
“And it’s not just HIV. Safer sex reduces the risk of catching other sexually transmitted diseases, too.”
I told her how gay men now account for nearly three quarters of all primary and secondary syphilis cases. How syphilis, if left untreated, can lead to blindness, stroke and death. How in some cities, 40 percent of gay men with HIV were also infected with syphilis. How syphilis can increase the viral load in HIV-positive people.
“Quite frankly, I’m stunned,” she said.
We sat there silently for a moment. The conversations of other patrons and the clatter of coffee cups meeting saucers filled the air.
“I agree the situation is shocking,” I replied, “but it’s not hopeless. HIV infection is still preventable.”
“… And by a sleep, to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks.”
I looked around at the mostly younger men and women in the crowded cafe. I recalled the thousand shocks of too many funerals and memorial services, and all the friends I’ve lost to HIV: Greg, Michael, Ricky, Arthur, Mark, Trevor, Connie, to name only a few. My strongest desire is to honor the memory of those who have died. My greatest hope is that the young people nearby would never experience the grief and horrors of The Plague.
“Reducing the rate of HIV infection is not only possible, but imperative,” I said. “We need to keep talking about safer sex.”
I told her about how it was imperative to get tested for HIV/STDs at least once a year. How it was imperative to limit the number of sexual partners, or to just say no. How it was imperative to avoid risky behaviors and having sex while under the influence of drugs or alcohol. How it was imperative to always use a condom. Every partner. Every time.
Marilyn reached across the table and held my hand. She smiled and said, “It’s good to know you still have the same passion you had a quarter of a century ago.”
“Ugh. You make us sound so old.”
Marilyn laughed.
“I have an idea,” she said. “After we finish our beverages, would you like to go to the zoo and see the new baby panda?”
Admittedly, our conversation had taken an unexpectedly grim turn and a change of venue might be nice. Generally speaking, I’m not a spontaneous person, but it was a beautiful day and I was alive. I don’t know how I managed to survive The Plague, but I did. I smiled at Marilyn.
“We can do that,” I replied.
The names of people are fictitious. The places and events are real.
HIV/STD TESTING AND TREATMENT RESOURCES:
Family Health Centers of San Diego: www.gaymenshealth.org
San Diego County STD testing
http://tinyurl.com/std-services
San Diego County HIV testing/services
http://tinyurl.com/hiv-services
The Center HIV and STD testing
http://tinyurl.com/center-hiv-std
Centers for Disease Control (CDC) recommends that men who have sex with men (MSM) be tested for HIV and STDs at least annually. CDC data show that sexually active MSM might benefit from more frequent testing (e.g., every 3 to 6 months). Regular testing allows people who have HIV to know their status, get life-saving treatment and care, and prevent HIV transmission to others. Call 1-800-CDC-INFO or visit hivtest.org to find HIV testing locations near you.
