2 thousand and freakin 9. And we still have no cure. I originally posted this back in 2006 and, like that band that played on, it is still needed today. A side note, my thanks to all who donated to the AIDS walk. I was able to raise over $800 and I could not have done it without you all =)
You Got To Do What You Should
December 1st is World AIDS day. As a Gen X'er I have pretty much grown up under the specter of this disease. No free love, or swinging, or love the one your with (or whoever's keys you fish out of the bowl) for my peers and myself. I remember hearing about AIDS for the first time as "GRID." Dan Rather looked somber and they had one of the medical charts that shows a heart rate. The tie in on that was always a bit hazy for me, since the end all, be all, do all result of this disease seemed to be NO heart beat. I remember the gay bashing and the bigotry that came with it. I remember the hysteria over things like drinking fountains.
I remember Ryan White, I remember Rock Hudson, I remember Bobby Campbell. I remember the sick feeling I had watching people protesting with signs saying they were "dying of red tape." I remember being very proud of the people in Act Up for the Wall Street demonstrations. I remember a rather unpleasant dinner conversation with an uncle who worked for Burroughs Welcome.
And I remember the faces of the people I took care of who were dying of AIDS.
From 1989-1991 I worked in an inner city hospital on the medical floor as a CNA. The hospital was located in a trendy area popular with Gen X'ers, artists, young families with children looking for a more urban lifestyle, and the gay and lesbian community. It also had a large housebound geriatric population and a growing homeless population.
In 17 months, I saw faces from each of these groups die of AIDS. The drag queens, the artists, the elderly, and the children were all represented. I remember the grandmother who beat cancer but died a year later at 83 from the blood transfusions she received. I remember the street people who died. At times, we didn't even know their real names. I remember the hemophiliac kids who were still fighting the disease when I left. I remember the street kids - teenagers- and their combative attitudes when given their diagnosis. It seemed impossible to them that they were 16 and would probably die before they reached legal drinking age. Can you blame them?
I remember Tony, who's family would have nothing to do with him. In their minds, AIDS was gods punishments for gays. Tony was a sweetheart. He was a stylist. His last words to me were some heartfelt advice on my hair and it's complete lack of style. Had he been able to give me the "do" he had in mind, I am sure I would have conquered the world. We were the same age. He was 22 when he died.
I remember Ollie and his love of Haagen Daz blueberry and cream swirl ice cream. I remember his love of papaya. I remember nearly falling over when he came back to visit us before his final relapse. He was back from Hawaii with papayas in hand. He was gorgeous. The last time I saw him he weighed a bit over 90 pounds while standing over 6 feet tall. I could carry him like I did my daughter. When she was two.
I remember Robert and the amazing bead work he did despite the fact that AIDS left him blind. He made the most intricate Indian moccasins. I remember walking in the AIDS walk the year he died. It was dedicated to his memory.
Most of all I remember Neal. And his cigarettes and how he nearly burned his bed down trying to smoke one. I remember the bags of Hershey's kisses he'd have his SO bring me every time I was scheduled to work. I remember his love of clear high heel pumps with the goldfish in the heels. That man could make me laugh like no one else. I miss you, Neal.
I remember the 20+ funerals I attended. I remember holding the hands of men with no families present. I remember both comforting and being comforted by life partners when death finally came. I remember the kind woman who was volunteering at the Names Project who was there with a hug and a box of tissues when I found the quilts of three of my patients and burst into tears looking at the ordinary reminders of lives that were gone and people who were no more.
I remember when the AIDS death total finally exceeded that of the Vietnam War. Over 58,000 dead from the virus. That was then.
Today, AIDS has killed over 30 million people. 90% of them in developing countries where kids die every single day from lack of medicines that cost less than your average candy bar.
Our politicians are only as good as we make them be. Hold them accountable. If enough people stand up and demand they do something about AIDS and all the stupid poverty related deaths that could be avoided, they will. Remind them that it's not about charity, it's about justice.
The changes we need may not happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. But if we keep making noise, they will happen, and maybe todays kids will not have to live in a world where a child dies every three seconds from AIDS and poverty. Make noise for these people. Make noise for my kid and her friends. Make noise for your kids or the children in your family.
Please visit One.org and sign the declaration.
