This Wednesday, and the blood titres that went with it, mark my first month with HIV. In all honestly, I’m still not sure how I feel about myself, and I suppose the only difference is that I’m starting to accept that HIV is going to be a part of my life for a very long time to come. Or not, who knows. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. But at least I’ll be wearing clean underwear… think on.
From this weekend, I will be back in Hull for a good long while, which is going to make everything that little bit more difficult. Having been given an ultimatum by the people at the clinic, I now have to choose whether I want my treatment to continue at their Leeds or their Hull branch. This is not helpful, as I split my time throughout the year in both centres, and they seem to be going out of their way to make my life that little bit more difficult. Therein lies the game… So, as it goes, this last set of titres will let them know if I need to start medication at the moment, or if it’s safe for me to carry on regardless for a little while. I’m hoping for the latter to be the result, because there’s one problem I may have overlooked.
I haven’t yet told my parent.
Yeah, I know, but sometimes I just think that they have enough to worry about without me coming into it. So I would rather not be starting medication just yet, because then questions would be raised as to what I was being medicated for. Oh god, it must be great to be straight. Of course, the need for medication would also imply that the disease is progressing rather quickly, which also stinks, but nothing compares to the wrath of a woman scorned. And she will be scorned. Believe me…
So now? I’m having a fag and surviving. But the next time I see a bus, I’ll try to coax it in my direction with a little treat.
PosLife.