From The Ashes ...

March 7, 2003

That was the title I was originally going to call this blog. At the time, I thought that it was the most significant date In my life. Now I'm not so sure. I'm a 41 year old gay man living in NYC. On March 7, 2003 I learned I was HIV positive. That was quite possibly the hardest sentence I've ever typed. Not because of the HIV admission, but now everyone will know I'm 41! I had to do it. I made a promise to myself that I was going to really commit to this blog and use it to help me get through my new challenges. I've spent a large portion of my life obscuring, ignoring and avoiding the truth or some truths. I'd like to say I'm done doing that but I'd be lying again. I'm going to try as hard as I can to be brutally honest in this chronicle. Not just with you but with myself. I'm hoping that I can see once and for all where I came from and why. The future we'll discover together. I want to take you with me on this journey.

I don't want to give everything away in some lame-ass description of who I am and what I do. I've posted some information already on this site so you can start to get to know who I am and what churns my butter. I feel pretty confident in my skills as a communicator that you will get to know me and my life and the lunatics and sorcerers that populate it rather quickly. As I get more adept at utilizing this blog I will add as much in the way of pictures and extra special chewy tidbits as I can find. I can promise that it will be as true a reflection of my life as I can possibly make it, which means that you can look forward to a lot of humor that may or may not be humorous, tons of dirty gay filth (see my already posted interest links), stories about the people I meet, play with, pick up off the floor and occasionally teach how to laugh through the pain.

I'll start with the whole HIV thing since it was the catalyst for me to begin the blog and I'm sure it will come up again and again on here. Like my dick. It's been just over a month since I was diagnosed. I'm sure some people will tell you about how stunned they were and how they cried for a week after the diagnosis but that never happened to me. When I decided to finally be tested after all these (15!) years in New York City I was fully aware of the possibility that I could get a positive diagnosis. Of course, I was hoping I wouldn't but still. It's like this....in all the years of suckin and fuckin and ass eating and sex parties and boothstores and escorts and masseurs and escort/masseurs (do I sense a theme?) was I just letting everyone blow a load in me willy-nilly? Of course not. But I've never been at all what you would call cum-phobic either. Hey, people are, for lack of a better word "juicy" (No, that is the better word) And sex is sticky and juicy (if you do it right) Throw in a healthy dose of low self -esteem, sprinkle on a liberal dusting of depression and there you have me waking up first thing in the morning and riding a fat hog that I lubed with my own spit. It happened. Move on.

The surprising part so far for me has been how long it takes to know what's up with yourself after you've been diagnosed. I thought that you go in, give blood wait a week, you're positive or negative, they give you a lolly and send you on your way. Not so fast though kitten. The diagnosis is just the beginning. Once you find out you're positive then some real fun begins. Apparently, now you have to find out how positive you are. So it's back to the lab but this time they take vials and vials of your blood. I think it was at least six I'm not sure. That day, there was a guy ahead of me who apparently turned white while he was being vamped which sent me into a mild panic as well. So I didn't count all the vials and I looked away and sang something in my head to distract me. And another 14 days go by so you can get your viral load and Tcell count. And that's it? Oh you silly silly soul! Not even close! In my case it was sort of a good news/bad news event. The good news was two-fold. First, according to my blood test, except for the death in my veins I'm healthy as a horse. (Besides that, how did you enjoy the play Mrs. Lincoln?) Second, not having a clue exactly how long I've been infected at this point my test results say I still have enough Tcells and a low enough viral load that I'm "healthy". So as it stands today my "medication" consists of multiple vitamins and trying to stay healthy. So now we know where I stand, right? You so stoopid! No! I had to wait a month and go back to see the vamps and make another donation. Why you may ask? Because they have to get a few sets of tests over a few months to see if I'm deteriorating or maintaining in my condition. In other words I may stay like this for months or six months or years before treatment has to start. Or not. If my system goes wonky progressively I'll have to go on the anti-virals and oh, won't chronic diarrhea be a happy, happy time?

So there you have it. Our jumping off point. I'll tell you about my Dr. visits. I'll tell you secrets about my job. I may write poetry. Sometmes I'll just post an article I like. If I ever have one again I'll be happy to dish on my own love life. That's not an HIV thing it's a I'm a dysfunctional freak thing. Good news is I'm probably going to have to leave the house more, just to keep things interesting. Periodically, I'll post my e-mail address.(tommyrico@msn.com) If you like what you read so far let me know, I'd love to hear from you. If you want to say something negative shut your hole, I'm not a well woman!