I'd Rather Hear the Truth...

I like the way you wanted me
Every night for so long baby
I like the way you needed me
Every time things got rocky

I was believing in you
Was I mistaken do you say
Do you say what you mean
I want our love to last forever

But I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

I like the way you'd hold me
Every night for so long baby
And I like the way you'd say my name
In the middle of the night
While you were sleeping

I was believing in you
Was I mistaken, do you mean
Do you mean what you say
When you say our love could last forever

Well I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

Bridge
You would run around and lead me on forever
While I wait at home still thinking we're together
I wanted our love to last forever

I was believing in you...

Well I'd rather you be mean than love and lie
I'd rather hear the truth and have to say goodbye
I'd rather take a blow at least then I would know
But baby don't you break my heart slow

Baby Don't You Break My Heart Slow
by Vonda Shepard

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Haunted

I'm stressed out. I’m anxious. I’m uneasy. I feel faint. I’m in distress.

I’m distrubed. I'm paranoid.

I'm scared. I’m really scared.

Almost a year ago, I received an e-mail from a couple of my friends from back in college, saying that they were planning to get married a year from then. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that I had almost a year to prepare for it. That just meant I had almost a year to not think about it.

These were people who I hadn’t seen for years and years and years. They were actually some people who I’d Left Behind because of that little incident of my disclosure of my sexual preference to someone I regarded as my friend, who in turn became the key to disclosing my secret to the world. As I said before, I was no longer interested in knowing who thought what about me. So it was easy to say goodbye. To everyone.

And then last week came. It was Sunday, and I was busy not feeling well at home. Suddenly, a knock at the gate. And then a voice calling my name. Who could it be? I wasn’t expecting anyone. So I dragged my ass out the door to brave the rain and see who it was. Good heavens. Boo!

It was her. The bride-to-be. Groom-to-be was apparently waiting in the car, and they’d just passed by to drop their wedding invitation off. Wow, special. Shit, I thought they’d forgotten about me. I honestly hoped they’d forgotten about me.

They’d apparently been trying to access me through several means. I’d changed my mobile number some years ago, so that was out of the question. I don’t know why they didn’t know my e-mail address, but it was a blessing. But Friendster was a bullet I just could not avoid.

Friendster always scared me because it would make me easy to find. To some, that’s a good thing, but to me, I worried more that it would be harder to hide from people by whom I didn’t want to be found. And now, the very reason it took me a while to even begin on Friendster was happening. Boo!

So... they found me. And in a serious lapse of judgment, I gave my e-mail address and mobile number. And with that, it just snowballed.

I don’t have a Barong Tagalog. I don’t have nice shoes. I don’t know how I’ll get to Tagaytay alone. I might have other plans. I still might not be feeling well. I can’t leave my mom home alone. My aunt is in the hospital. I have more important things to do. Hell, I might even say I don’t really want to see them again. See, I already have every excuse in the book.

Now, I’m trying to dodge every effort they’re making to solicit further responses from me. I really don’t want to go. There’s a reason why I haven’t seen them for almost ten years. There’s a reason why I haven’t even been trying. That reason was that I had a secret. And now, I have a newer and an even bigger one. Boo!

I don’t need their sympathy or anything. Nor will I need the paranoia that may stem from reviving broken ties. I’ve been okay the past ten years without them, why not another ten?

Granted, I don’t necessarily have to disclose anything to them. But I can only imagine how draining it will be to even try to put together plausible stories as to what I’ve been up to for the past ten years, let alone the past year. Hell, even right now, this early, it’s draining already.

So needless to say, just a week to go before the event, I am NOT excited. It just feels is as if I’m being haunted by ghosts from the past. Ghosts that, for now, I’m hell-bent on keeping in the past. Boo!

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The Big Move

I’m moving. Nope, not moving out of the house, just transferring. RITM, here I come.

I’ve had my online persona for a while now, and through it I’ve been able to meet a lot of different people. Mostly just online acquaintances, but some I’ve been lucky enough to meet. I’ve also been fortunate with the kinds of people I’ve been meeting. It’s been a risk and a great deal of trust every time I agreed to meet someone new, but so far, no regrets. Although they’re of all sorts, from poz to not, they’ve all been great experiences and learnings for me.

Of the poz guys I’ve encountered online, most if not all of them were presently registered at the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine, or RITM, in Alabang. I, on the other hand, am with the San Lazaro Hospital in Manila.

I never knew anything about the RITM before, except that it was in the south of Metro Manila. And it’s far. So I never even tried to learn more about it just based on that. But from these guys, I’ve heard a lot more things about the RITM. They never really told me not to go to San Lazaro or to transfer to the RITM. I am currently in the process of formulating that decision on my own.

Money-wise, San Lazaro is better apparently, since it’s a government hospital, providing most services for free. But I’ve been told that RITM does the next best thing, which is provide a 75% discount to HIV patients, should they need to be confined. I’m not sure if that covers rooms and/or services, but it’s significant enough either way. ARV medication is still free of course.

One other thing I’ve heard is that the atmosphere is better. You’ve heard me rant before about how depressing the conditions were at the H4 ward of San Lazaro Hospital. Apparently, things are more decent at the RITM.

I’ve mentioned before how I enjoyed immersing, or more like fading into the poz crowd during those big Thusdays I’ve spent at San Lazaro. I still do. It’s still an eye opener. But the contrast of that against the atmosphere at the RITM is… intriguing. Apparently, there, there are no crowds, no fiesta-like Thursdays, and as I’ve been told, it would be very rare for poz patients to bump into each other. Extreme, isn’t it? I’m told it’s a good thing, because there’s less politics involved. Politics? Hmmm, considering that we are a society amongst ourselves, politics shouldn’t be too surprising. But as I’m really a loner to begin with, the novelty of the H4 social experience might just wear off eventually. Either way, good for me.

So far, nothing really convincing for me to transfer to the RITM, right? So here comes my compelling reason.

Now you know how I’ve been ranting about the ultimatum that I had been given at San Lazaro, right? About how they let me off last time I was there, telling me I needed to start on ARVs, but that I should come back when I had family, or at least close friends with me for support? It was like the ball was in my court, only to find out I didn’t know the rules.

Granted, I acknowledge the urgency to start on ARVs. Ok, maybe some people would rant back that I’ve taken long enough and should tell my family, or friends at least. But it’s just not the right time just yet. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but haven’t convinced myself to do it. I can’t explain it, but it’s not that easy.

Now the RITM looks like it will be the answer to my problem. One of my “friends” who has become my insider into the RITM referred my problem to them. I didn’t ask him to, but he cared enough to take initiative. Their response? They’d welcome me with open arms. Apparently, I wouldn’t need a support system if I didn’t have it. The important thing was that I get started on ARVs. Furthermore, initial stages of ARV medication could be taken at home, unlike at San Lazaro where they require a two week confinement there when starting on ARVs. I was shocked. Was this for real?!

Okay, the down side is that I’d have to go through the process all over again. The forms, the interrogations, the pity, the stares, and the least I’m looking forward to, the blood tests. Arghhh. I’m still not over my fear of needles, but I guess I’m less stressed about it. I’m particularly looking forward to having my CD4 count tested again, to see how I’m doing so far, after over two months of no ARV medication, relying just on multivitamins and some old-fashioned virgin coconut oil. Wow, I never realized it's been two months. This will be interesting.

So there, I’ve stated my case. And as you may have guessed by now, I’m practically convinced that the RITM is the answer to my problems. I plan to go there next week for my profiling, or what I refer to more as a re-baptism or conversion. And even have a couple of offers from my fellow pozzies to accompany me there. I’ve been so blessed.

Read more about the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine at http://www.ritm.gov.ph/.

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My Sanity

Exactly two months ago today, I found out that I am HIV positive. Not exactly something to celebrate, but maybe just reason enough to be happy that I’ve survived this long and managed to remain sane… for now.

My HIV journey has slowed down a bit, after hitting that speedbump of needing to tell someone before getting started on the ARVs. Someone to help me on my journey. Easier said than done. I’m still numbed at the proposition, and still trying to figure out what to do next. I’m tempted to ask how urgent it is for me to start on my ARVs.

I was talking to a Swedish poz guy I encountered on one of the gay personals sites I frequent. In his opinion, I wasn’t doing too badly, and he didn’t think I needed the medication too urgently.

He may not be a medical expert, but he speaks from experience of living with HIV for 4 years now. So I have to admit that what he says does carry some weight with me.

So I’m tempted to think. What’s the real deal anyways? What’s really going on? Do I really need to start on anti-retroviral medication? Or is this sense of urgency merely a ploy to try to fasttrack my “coming out” to my family? That’s just playing with my emotions, and really not very much fun. Emotional blackmail, to be harsh about it.

I hate having to bother to think such sinister thoughts, but I’m left with no choice. If I am advised to start my ARV medication, why was I not counseled further while I was there, or even given a date for counseling or starting the medication? It would be really, really tragic if my condition was aggravated just because I was not able to start my ARV medications earlier, right?

I’m left with a lot to think about, but fortunately it hasn’t exactly been causing sleepless nights and restless days. Now you know why I need to celebrate my sanity at this point. There might not be much of it left. Get that straightjacket ready.

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Scary!

I've been so stressed out these past few days. So much of my days have been spent thinking, and thinking, and thinking. An after-effect of the last consultation I had at the San Lazaro H4 Pavilion. And it's not even about the result of the CD4 count itself.

I still can't wrap my head around having to admitting to someone in the family that I'm HIV positive. It's just been barely two months. I'm still not even completely back on my feet from the news that I have HIV. And now this?!

I remember Dr. Malou of the Social Hygiene Clinic specifically say I should stay away from stress and depression because it in turn stresses and depresses my immune system. Something not good for someone with HIV. So why are the doctors at the H4 practically forcing me to tell someone in the family?

I honestly got the impression that they were indirectly saying something to the tune of If you don't tell, we won't start you on the medication. I mean if this were really a life and death situation, regardless of who knows or does not, they should give me the medicines I need, right?

I'm expecting everyone will find out eventually, but I'd appreciate being told that I could take my sweet time. I need to be reassured that it is not a requisite to being treated. I believe it is my health that is important, and that does not directly revolve around who I am able to reveal to.

It's just really really not that easy. It's easier said than done. Dealing with HIV, I can be pretty brave. But when it has to combine with interacting with other people, I'm chicken shit. I realize that the less I know a person, a stranger to the extreme, the easier it is for me to tell about my condition. Adversely, the more I know someone, the harder it is to tell.

I've been trying to analyze why this is the case with me, and I guess the difficulty to reveal is proportional to what reputation I've built with the person. I'm not saying I have some flawless reputation which I need to protect. I've always been flawed to begin with. But telling someone I've shared years with would retrogress to the very start of the acquaintance, I imagine. It would snowball into other issues and other skeletons in my closet, like how I got it, what I've been doing these past years, when I got it, how gay I am, how promiscuous I am, how I could have hidden my alternative life, and so on. Too many questions I might not have enough time to backtrack and answer, assuming I have answers at all. Multiply that with the number of people I have to come out to, and that just scares me. I just hope it doesn't scare me to death. That'll just put me out of my misery, huh?

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H4 Galore

Another big Thursday for me. I left around 7 am, but not before talking with K over the phone. He just called to send me off on what he thinks is another regular work day for me. Little did he know.

So I made it to the HIV ward of the San Lazaro Hospital a little past 8 am, had myself registered, and my vital signs taken. H4-2008-054. Weight is still the same, blood pressure normal, temperature was a bit high, I’m thinking because I had barely taken a breather before they sat me down to take it. But I was feeling fine.

I noticed some of those metal medical clipboards on the counter, probably records of those confined. I noticed that the patient codes were written on the top of the clipboards, one of which I read as H4-2008-059. I realized, geesh, at least five other people have already been diagnosed after me. And whoever this is, his condition has called for him to be confined. I’m pretty lucky then.

I walked into the waiting room, and sat down. There were three other guys already there. One of them I recognized to be the guy trying to smile at me when I was there two weeks ago. A bit surprising, since he has been checked-up at least twice this month already. He recognized me, smiled and went back to reading his newspaper. The four of us continued waiting since the doctors hadn’t arrived yet.

After a while, Y walked in and started chatting up with all of us there, who he knew apparently. It was nice to see a familiar face. He still treated me as the new kid, which was nice.

I heard voices from the reception counter, later on realizing it was the other doctor. She called for me, and instructed the nurse to hand me my referral slip for the CD4 count. I was pointed to the direction of the SACCL, short for STD/AIDS Central Cooperative Laboratory. Their name was also on my diagnostic results which I got last April. Apparently this is where most of the STD related tests are done, such as Hepatitis, HIV, Venereal Disease, etc.

But before going, I noticed the guy getting his vital signs taken, looking at me. He was cute. He seemed like an older guy, smaller, fair, manly, a bit stocky, dignified, and a bit shy. My type. I don’t know what his name is, but he was looking at me, and I was looking back. I still wasn’t hell bent at using the ward as a cruising place so I picked up my heels and just headed to the SACCL.

Walking to the next building, 8 or 9 people were waiting before me. I had to spill over to the waiting area outside the building where one other guy was. He asked me what I was there for, explaining he was there for a medical test for Hepatitis required for his application to the Philippine National Police. I don’t remember what I answered but I’m sure I couldn’t have been vaguer. Hahaha.

When it was the turn of the guy in front of me, I could hear from the voices in the lab that something was wrong. The guy first walked out with a cotton ball taped to his left arm. Going back in, he later walked out with another cotton ball on his right arm. Still they weren’t done. I don’t know where the hell else they took his blood, but this was scaring me quite a bit already!

Then my turn came. Oddly enough, they asked me to write my real name on the referral form, contrary to what I believed was a confidentiality law for HIV infected persons. If I were a fraction of sensitive and defensive, I would’ve put up a fight. But I wasn’t, so I penned my name away.

Then I saw the needle. It was bigger than my usual and it hurt going in. Then I felt the lady pushing and pulling and wiggling it around in there. My blood wasn’t flowing?! It was a problem with some adaptor they were using. It was hurting like hell! I’m still squirming right now recalling the pain. Then she just said sorry and pulled it out. Next arm. She had left me with a big red pock on my left arm, and had no blood to show for it. Thankfully she got it on the second try. I’ll need my phobia to heal again after this.

So anyways, I headed back to the ward, half wishing I’d catch “the guy” still there. I went in to see my doctor in the doctors’ office for less than 3 minutes, faced another one of her pity-faced are-you-sure-you’re-okays, and headed out. I didn’t see him there. I wasn’t sure, but good thing I waited because he had been talking with the other doctor the same time I was inside. So anyways, I saw him again, we exchanged nods a bit, but never talked. Y felt the need to keep me company, so I didn’t get the chance to work the guy over. I hope I bump into him there again sometime.

I’m beginning to look forward to San Lazaro. I’ll be back at the ward next Thursday, mostly to discuss my CD4 results with the doctor, but partly hoping to meet more pozzies as well. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll see “him” there again. Man, I’m a slut!

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Count Down to Count

I just heard back from the doctor of the HIV ward of the San Lazaro Hospital, and she's confirmed my appointment on Thursday for my CD4 count.

I'm getting a bit of nerves again, both about the ward's Thursday crowd, and the test as well.

So to at least equip myself for the latter, I've been doing some research.

What are CD4 Cells?
CD4 cells, also known as T-cells, are a type of lymphocyte or white blood cell. An important part of the immune system, CD4 cells come in two main types. T-4 cells, or CD4+, are "helper" cells which lead attacks against infections. T-8 cells (CD8+) are "suppressor" cells that end the immune response. CD8 cells can also be "killer" cells that kill cancer cells and cells infected with a virus.

Why are CD4 Cells Important in HIV?
The cells that HIV infects most often are CD4 cells. The virus becomes part of the cells, which when multiply to fight infections, also make more copies of the HIV. The number of CD4 cells (their CD4 cell count) goes down when infected with HIV. The lower the CD4 cell count, the more likely the person will get sick.

What Factors Influence a CD4 Cell Count?
The CD4 cell count varies a lot. Time of day, fatigue, and stress can affect test results. It's best to have blood drawn at the same time of day for each CD4 cell test, and to use the same laboratory.

Infections and vaccinations can cause CD4 and CD8 counts to go up. It is advised to have CD4 cell counts at least a couple of weeks after recovering from an infection, or getting a vaccination.

How Are the Test Results Reported?
Reported as the number of cells in a cubic millimeter of blood, normal CD4 counts are between 500 and 1600. CD4 counts can drop to as low as zero in people with HIV.

What Do the Numbers Mean?
The CD4 cell count measures the health of the immune system. The lower the count, the greater damage HIV has done. Anyone who has less than 200 CD4 cells is considered to have AIDS according to the US Centers for Disease Control.

CD4 counts are also used to indicate when to start certain types of drug therapy such as antiretroviral therapy, aggressive retroviral therapy, and drug prescriptions to prevent opportunistic infections.

The complete article can be found at http://www.thebody.com/content/art6110.html.

Wish me luck.

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The Four-Letter Word

Hate. Yes it's harsh. But I shall use it.

You must understand. I HATE DOCTORS. The only time I'd really been operated on was for circumcision, which is not entirely a free and open choice here in the Philippines. Oh, and I don’t limit my hatred to doctors. It shall extend to nurses, dentists, therapists, pharmacists, and even the guys that do the urine tests required to get a driver’s license. Tsk, tsk, tsk, so much angst. Oddly though, I'd run into more than a handful of doctors and other health professionals during my online dating life. No hate involved there.

One other thing, I HATE NEEDLES. Needlephobia, trypanophobia, aichmophobia, belonephobia, enetophobia or whatever it’s called, I have it. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I've been poked by a needle prior to this test.

• First was during circumcision. Take note that the doctor was a friend of my grandmother, who was there holding my hands during the whole process of anesthetizing.


• Second was probably for a blood count prior to college. I don't really have any clear recollection... by choice.


• Third was a tetanus shot that I needed to get after being bitten by a rodent. But since the procedure involved me being in my 20s in a room amidst a bunch of kids below 12, I needed to swallow my fear and preserve my poise. I wasn't planning on sobbing like a kid.


• Fourth was for a pre-employment medical exam. Again, shame prevailed. Not enough privacy to make a scene.


• Fifth was for a tooth extraction I absolutely needed to get when I was around 27. A needle into my palate?!? What the... !?! Trust me, had my face not been totally swollen, I could have taken the pain.

There. I said it. So give me some credit, ok? Or at least the right to hate...

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Testing... Testing...

I had read online about some free HIV testing in the Manila area for the month of March, and decided to take advantage. It was March 31st, and I didn't want to let the chance pass. I had taken the day off from work to trek down to the Social Hygiene Clinic of the Manila Health Office in the San Lazaro vicinity in Manila. Not exactly convenient for someone who lives in Quezon City, but I made the effort.

Ok, I'll admit it. I had scouted the place out the Friday prior to that day. Ok, ok, maybe not “scouted”. More like I was too chicken to go in and get it done. Hahaha. So by the time the 31st came around, I was a bit familiar with the area, which gave me less reason not to go. Not to mention I had mustered up a bit more guts to actually step into the building. Always a good thing.

I followed all the instructions in the forum post. Across San Lazaro Hospital. Yep, it was there, the Manila Health Office. Side entrance. A bit creepy to be honest. Second floor. It reminded me of some old public school building, which isn’t exactly bad. Look for Dr. Malou. Found her.

Dra. Malou Tan. She was nice and cordial, and just asked me a few questions before a very short briefing on the test. Another guy had come in a few minutes later, also to get tested, so she asked me if I could wait so we’d go to the lab together. No problemo. She talked to the other guy while I waited out in the hall. I even remember wondering why his briefing lasted much longer than mine. Probably he was higher risk. Shrug.

So after their talk, she took us down to the lab where the blood extraction was to take place. Big, big issue for me. I’ll tell you all about my fear of needles later. So anyways, I went first. I sat down, closed my eyes and braced myself. “I’m ready!”, I thought to myself. And even before I could bite my lip and think “Stick it! Stick it!”, the nurse said “Ipit…”, to tell me to press the cotton against my skin. It’s over? Geesh… I wasn’t even done with my prayer. One big “Whew!” from me.

From there, the doctor gave me her number and told me to check back with her the following week for the release of the results. I headed home, triumphant, having conquered my fear. Believe me, I had graduation music playing in my head. Not for long.

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