Get Tested

Today is National Gay Men's HIV/AIDS Awareness day. While I have always maintained that HIV is not a "Gay disease" and I don't believe that sex or sexuality really should have much to do with HIV awareness, the facts as they are today force me to acknowledge that HIV/AIDS is and continues to be a cause for concern among American men who have sex with men.

The most important tool we have in the fight to diagnose, treat and prevent the spread of new infections is testing. If you'e never had an HIV test, go and get one today. If you are sexually active and you haven't been tested in the last year or two, go and get tested. You do not know your current HIV status if you are basing it on a test from two years ago. If you are a sexually active young person, the best way to protect yourself is to try and engage in "safer" sex practices. If your doctor doesn't offer you HIV testing, it doesn't mean you don't need it, it means your doctor is an idiot. Find a free HIV testing facility and schedule an appointment.

If you end up testing HIV+, there is widespread treatment available to get your viral load under control. This will insure your continued good health, and protect other people from being infected by you.

Protect yourself. Protect your partners. Get tested. Live.

On A Great Adventure

I'm leaving in just a few minutes to join thousands of NY and NJ area gays for an evening of dancing, eating and mass consumerism, with roller coasters, as we descend on Six Flags Great Adventure theme park.

Group outings still make me very nervous, which is why I'm going. This is mitigated by the fact that I'm riding up and down on a luxury coach bus with members of SIN. So it's not just a group of gays but a group of HIV+ gays. With snacks. And drag queens.

Which will hopefully make it an enjoyable outing. As an aside, I have very little experience with giant theme parks. Never having been to Disney anything. Neither Land nor World. So as a result I have a certain amount of fear about getting on all these newfangled roller coasters and such. Which is another reason I am going.

There will be pictures.

UPDATE:
While I did manage to conquer my fears and get on a few coasters, I couldn't get muyself on the big ones (Superman, Nitro, Kingda Ka). I was pretty much rolling on my own and I probably would have worked up the nerve if I had a "partner". But I did good, bought some T-shirts, watched a pretty elaborate drag show and saw scads of hot boys. Had fun.

It's All About Maintenance

I had a very "I'm an alcoholic" day. I'm not one of those drunks who lives and breathes AA. I don't go to a meeting every day, but I do notice when I have skipped quite a few days in a row. And it's not always enough to just go. It's helpful if I participate. Talk when it's time. Stay after and talk with other AA's. It's even better when I do some service. Meet someone for coffee or do some volunteer work. Last year I chaired a meeting for 6 months, and that really helped me be active. Sitting in a meeting like a lump doesn't work for very long. Especially if I nod off repeatedly.

I've managed to step up my game and attend a few more meetings of late. But I'm still not participating enough, I don't talk about anything of substance. And the lack of commitment, the lack of focus, has started to spill over in to how I feel.

I'm on a short fuse. I'm impatient and itching for a fight. I'm falling back on behaviors that I know are just attempts to adjust my mood. The way alcohol used to do. The things I would do when a drink wasn't available or appropriate. This afternoon I bought a pair of sneakers I absolutely did not need. Only $40, but that's not the point. It's not always the what, it's the why. And the why was I was feeling out of sorts, and I fell back on looking outside myself, buying something, anything, that would make me feel different.

Not good. Not a healthy choice. Some might say that's a sign I am not "spiritually fit". They would probably be right. But I guess it says something about how far I've come that I'm aware of it.

Foot Soldier

I spent the last two afternoons in a conference room talking about HIV. In my volunteer role as a member of the Community Advisory Board for the local health center, we had a two day "retreat" with a rep from HRSA. He had been sent down to work with us to make sure that the CAB was organized, proactive and functioning at a level that will meet the requirements that many of the federal programs insist be in place. This is a direct offshoot of some of the great work that GMHC and ACT UP achieved in the areas of compassionate and interactive and effective treatment models for people living with HIV/AIDS as far back as the mid 1980's.

Before then, doctors and other health care professionals simply told patients what to do, where to go and, in effect, how to be sick (and die). The early pioneers in the fight against HIV/AIDS decided that they wanted a voice in what medicines they took, what doses they might take them at and when to avoid the available treatments all together, as was ultimately the case for many HIV patients when it came to AZT. In it's original form, at it's original dosage, AZT proved to be just as deadly as AIDS. I've met many HIV+ individuals that are alive today because they ultimately decided to ignore the medical community and the conventional wisdom at the time and decline treatment with AZT.

One of the results of these new treatment models was the creation of Community Advisory Boards like the one I currently serve on. Patients, and the community were encourage to form advisory groups that had a direct pipeline to both their peers (other patients) and medical providers. They acted as a voice for those who previously had none, solved problems, recommended changes in privacy standards. Early ACT UP members even won the right to "fast track" promising HIV treatments, offering their own bodies up as lab experiments, as they insisted on the right to die as bravely as they had lived.

It's why I am alive today.

My work with the CAB the last two years is my own small way of honoring the work and sacrifice of those who fought the fight before me. I should have been lying in the streets in the 80's. I could have been protesting the drug companies in the 90's. But at least I'm here now, and I try to do what I can.

9 years later ...

Miles And Miles And Miles Of Art

Sent this photo from a shoot last year off to the printer and got back a gorgeous 24X36 print that I framed for the bedroom. I bought a poster sized frame from Bed Bath & Beyonce that felt kind of flimsy, so I broke down, crossed the boycott line and bought a sturdier frame at Target. I know. We're not supposed to be shopping there. I try to be politically correct, although I loathe knee-jerk political correctness. I tend not to just react to every boycott or letter writing campaign or Facebook posting that pops up on the Internets, as I find that frequently the whole story, with the correct facts, doesn't come out for a few days. I also find that things that outrage other gays many times don't bother me at all. And I often find them quite amusing.

So while I support the boycott Target kerfluffle in the abstract, if I really need something at a reasonable price that I know Target sells, like a sturdier frame, I will put on a pair of sunglasses and a hat (to avoid the paparazzi) and do what needs to be done.

I ended up hanging the picture up late one night last week. Then I took Riley out for his last walk. When I returned, the sturdier (heavier) frame had fallen off the wall from where I had badly secured it and shattered into several pieces. So I ended up spending an extra $25.00 at Target with nothing to show for it. The picture is back on the wall, in the flimsy original frame, which I have grown to actually like better.

Brought To You By Time-Warner Cable

I'm nothing if not loyal. I've been getting my Internets access through Verizon DSL ever since 2003. For the most part it's been a glorious marriage, but sometime last year we hit a very rocky patch. My download speed would slow down to the point that I couldn't even get a page to load. But it would happen gradually, until I would suddenly notice that I was sitting in front of the PC screen staring for longer and longer periods of time. Video's would take forever to load, or you would get that maddening stutter-stop, load, start-stutter-stop over and over again.

Eventually I would start to crack up and finally call Verizon. At which point they would usually take me through a series of "fixes" all designed to get me back up and running at full speed. Sometimes it worked. Often it didn't. But in either case, I would be on the phone with someone from tech support for up to 2 hrs at a time.

This past year, the same scenario played out every few months, and then every few weeks. It would frequently result in a service call from a Verizon technician, that would eat up 1/2 a day from another afternoon. Many times the service technician would leave before the problem was fixed, but after determining that there was nothing wrong with my PC or routers, he would assure me that the problem would be addressed in a day or so. It always was, and then my internet service and speed would be back to normal. For a while.

As I became more and more exasperated with not having reliable internet service, I started trying different tactics in order to get quick attention from the phone support people (who may or may not have even been in this country when I called them). I tried being nice, I tried being extremely nasty, I tried being sarcastic, i tried being pathetic and helpless. None of my personalities could seem to get the problem identified and resolved. And as I called tech support at least 6 times in the last six months, I began to meltdown a little faster every time they told me "not to worry" and they "would help me out". This always meant I was going to be led on a merry chase of turning off and on routers, re-booting my PC, running command prompts, and various other time wasters. The last few weeks I could only last an hour before flipping out on the tech support person, telling them they didn't know what they were doing, that they couldn't help me, and that I didn't have time to waste several hours on the phone and then another 1/2 day with the live repair tech.Then I would hang up.

And while they were insisting that the problem was definitely not outside the house on their network, within a few hours of those tirades my service would be restored and back up to speed. I finally reached my breaking point and signed a new deal for Time-Warner to provide internet service. At a cheaper price and a faster download speed to boot.

The new cable wiring is already installed and this morning I had the distinct pleasure of calling up Verizon and telling them to take a hike. They tried to talk me in to letting them try to resolve the problem, but I had no intention of turning on and off routers all afternoon. In one last bit of weirdness, they seemed to try to sell me on a Verizon Fios upgrade, right after letting me know that my building isn't wired for it.

"So how would that work exactly?"

"Well it wouldn't."

"Just cancel the service right now, please."

Verizon sucks.

Editorial

For the past couple of years, I have been a member of the Community Advisory Board at the LGBT Community Health Center in Chelsea. It's where I go for all my health care, including periodic counseling and all of my dental work. My work on the CAB, aside from being rewarding on it's own, is my way of paying back all of the wonderful care I have received over the years, before and after I was diagnosed as HIV+.

Last year during the annual elections that are held for the meeting chairman position ... I didn't win. I did however become first runner up (Miss Congeniality was not something I aspire to) and was elected to be the Vice-Chair. Coming in 2nd in a group of 8, third if you take in to account the previous chair was out of the running, only diminishes an already dubious honor slightly.

One of the projects I ended up spearheading last year was a patient newsletter. Previously, it was published in a very basic, two-page, black & white copy machine version. It had a very grassroots, low-budget look to it, and I thought we could do better. I originally started the project with another CAB member who had a lot of experience in graphic design, as my abilities are limited and self-taught. Halfway in to the first issue, my co-editor quit, leaving me to finish the first issue and take charge of the project.

Right after Gay Pride Weekend (end of June) I submitted the final draft for our 2nd (summer) issue. It was published late in August, distributed throughout the Health Center and published to their web site. In addition to supplying all the photos for this issue, I also wrote an editorial of sorts, to coincide with Gay Pride Weekend.

Lately I've been doing a lot of reading about the stigma that is still attached to HIV. Many gay men, after being diagnosed, are further traumatized when they experience being ostracized from their own community. As I say in the article, being HIV+, even in the gay "community", is the dirty little secret everyone would prefer just go away. Many HIV+ gay men feel damaged and alone.

I am attempting, through my work at the LGBT Community Health Center, and my contact with various HIV+ support groups, to address and hopefully eradicate that stigma. Here's the article reprinted:

This issue of Patient 2 Patient is

being assembled during what has

become known as Gay Pride

Month, June of 2010. Amid all the

parties and benefits, parades and

celebrations that take place in all 5

boroughs throughout this time of

year, there are many issues that

are relevant to the LGBT

community that have taken center

stage. High profile issues like gay

marriage, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and

the passage of a transgender

inclusive Employment Non-

Discrimination Act have all

received the lion’s share of the

media coverage of late.

It seems to some within the HIV+

LGBT community that amidst this

cacophony of protests, marches and

demonstrations, the voices of HIV+

Americans are no longer being heard. To

some, it seems as if we are being actively

shut out.

Consider these sobering statistics:

According to the latest findings by the

CDC 4,762 New York City residents

contracted HIV in 2006. That’s three

times the national rate and an estimated

72 new infections for every 100,000

people.

Nearly two-thirds of the city’s new

infections occurred in people 30 to 50

years old. Minority groups were

hardest hit among young people. For

example, of new HIV infections

among men under age 30 who have

sex with men, 77 percent were in

Black or Hispanic men.

In another study conducted by the

CDC, over 50% of young Black gay or

bi Southern men that were diagnosed

HIV+ had engaged in high risk

sexual behavior, but still had not

thought they would ever become

infected with the virus.

HIV+ men feel that we have become

the dirty little secret in the LGBT

community. The equivalent of the

crazy relative with a room in the attic

that only gets trotted out during big

celebrations. If we don’t sit quietly in

the corner and enjoy the plate of

sponge cake already provided, eyes

get rolled then its back in the attic we

go.

Gay men who seemingly lack

education or compassion think

nothing of unleashing bigotry, stigma

and shame upon newly infected HIV+

men who have sex with men. After

all, HIV is “preventable” and those

engaging in risky behavior should

simply “know better.” Nowhere is this

more glaringly evident than in the

halls of our own LGBT Community

Center. Where you won’t find a single

sign, poster or notification welcoming

HIV+ gay men and women nor will

you see any large scale permanent

signage advocating or directing

anyone to HIV testing and treatment.

Worldwide there are approximately 33

million people living with HIV and over

25 million people have died.

Why then has HIV become a seemingly

back-burner issue? That’s if it’s talked

about at all. Certainly this country’s

legendary short attention span and a

certain amount of “grief fatigue”

explain some of it. As does the

supposition that HIV is thought of as

more of a chronic disease, survivable

and treatable, and not the frightening

and alarming death sentence it once

was. Happily that’s true, assuming you

get a diagnosis and treatment in time.

Not everyone does. And not everyone

responds well to the available

medications.

The fact remains that unlike other

chronic and treatable diseases, like

diabetes or depression, HIV still carries

a stigma that sets its patients apart.

Often resulting in HIV+ men feeling

shunned or ignored by their uninfected

(or undiagnosed) gay brothers. Many

So as Gay Pride week is about to begin

and Gay Pride Month draws to a close,

as the celebrations wind down and the

streets are swept clean, the next time

you write a check or turnout en masse

for the latest cause celebre, consider

this:

HIV doesn’t know or care who you are.

It doesn’t worry about how much money

you have in the bank or how much

education you enjoyed. HIV doesn’t

know who you’re sleeping with, and

doesn’t care if it’s one person or a

hundred. HIV doesn’t know if you’re gay

or straight. HIV can’t tell if you are a

homeless teen or a dancer in the New

York City Ballet. HIV doesn’t think of

itself as a punishment. HIV doesn’t

worry about causing you

embarrassment or shame. In short, HIV

doesn’t judge or discriminate.

So why should you?

You can check out the entire (PDF) newsletter by following this link.

I Can See Clearly Now

I'm thinking I should probably update you as to the recovery from my eye surgery. As you undoubtedly don't recall, when last we spoke of it, I had been about 2 or 3 weeks into my recovery from PRK laser surgery. My vision was obviously so much improved from where it started. I don't know what my exact prescription was in corrective terms, but "blind as a bat" works fairly well. I rarely even ventured to the bathroom from bed without putting a pair of glasses on.

At 3 weeks, I wasn't using glasses for anything at all. Day to day, I could see people, buildings, cars, billboards. I was missing all of the smaller detail. The smaller type on street signs was still a blur. Ditto for newspapers except in bright light. Even then, my vision would be in and out, blurring unexpectedly halfway through an article. Also, my distance vision was definitely lagging behind in the recovery. I saw little or no improvement after 3 weeks, and a subsequent visit to the surgeon confirmed this. In layman's terms, I couldn't see shit far away.

I tried not to get discouraged. I read and re-read all the on-line articles and blogs that said PRK recovery takes time. I gave myself an imaginary line in the sand of 6 weeks. If I didn't see some noticeable improvement by then, this would start to well and truly suck, and I began rehearsing how forceful I would be in complaining to the surgeon.

Sometime between week 5 and 6, my reading vision seemed to stabilize and improve. I was reading my computer screen without leaning forward in my chair, and I could snatch up a newspaper right on the street and start reading just like ... well ... I could see. I couldn't tell if my distance vision had improved as well. It seemed so, but I was wondering if I had just grown accustomed to not seeing very well far away.

My last visit to the surgeon was at 9 weeks. The vision in my reading eye was clocked at 20/25. The vision in my other (distance) eye was 20/40. NY State considers 20/40 in both eyes to be sufficient for driving without corrective lenses. So technically (and practically) I can see.

At this point, my vision seems at least comparable to what it was, with contacts, before the procedure. I could make a case that in some ways, it's better. My reading vision seems to be better than when I started. Most importantly, I can take photos. I never realized how much I tend to study a shot before I actually take a picture. Not having good distance vision prevented me from getting a feel for what I was shooting. It was like running on one gimpy leg. Do-able, but not fun.

My eyes are still very dry in the morning. But I've pretty much eliminated using the lubricating drops during the day. I'm still on the eye drop steroids they put me on after the surgery, and I will continue as scheduled through the end of November. My vision will blur unexpectedly, usually when I'm focusing on something detailed, but it often comes back in a few seconds. Over all, as it stands now (and I told the surgeon this on my last visit), I am completely satisfied with the surgery, the expense and the outcome. If I continue to get more improvement (and that's entirely possible according to my reading) it will just be gravy on the meatloaf.

If the weather holds this week for one more day, tomorrow I will go to the beach for the second time this year. I'll be taking only a pair of sunglasses, purely to leer at the hot boys in private.

And We're Back

A month without blogging. It wasn't my intent. I admit, I had been getting tired of keeping up on the blog. Plus, I discovered the magic that is Facebook and that seemed to satisfy one of the main reasons that I kept up blogging, long after I felt as if my original reasons for creating and maintaining From The Ashes had run it's course. I said that I wanted to give people a glimpse in to the life of a middle aged HIV+ person, and I did that. And while I still have things to say and work that I'm doing related not only to my own life as an HIV+ individual, the nuts and bolts, as it were, of my illness have pretty much been worked out. I'm in a maintenance mode that finds me pretty damn healthy, and no reason to think that will change anytime soon.

I also obviously (in retrospect) had a lot of other "issues" that needed working out too. Many of them, as it turns out, were linked in some way to alcoholism and all of the emotional and psychological damage that causes. But I've been sober for 3 1/2 years now and a lot of those issues have been resolved as well. No more panic attacks. No more General Anxiety Disorder. No more roommate troubles. No more surrounding myself with addicts and enablers. I finally feel balanced, relatively sane and at peace. In other words, I feel kind of boring.

And a boring sober middle-aged gay man doesn't necessarily have all that much to write about. At least, that's how I've been feeling. I didn't write 'cause I was happy. Which I guess means that the last 7 years could in fact be viewed as one long primal scream. In a way, I guess it was. I was lost. I was alone. I was confused. I was scared. And I poured all of it out on the page. Eventually I also poured it out to a couple of competent therapists and several hundred AA members in the last several years of meetings. Slowly, I got better. Things settled down. And I felt like I had less and less to say.

The last year maybe, certainly the last few months, I felt like I was struggling for posts, and struggling to find content. And I certainly thought about shutting From The Ashes down. I suppose I still might. But I'm not ready to walk away from it yet. And I think that this blog still has a purpose. For me, it's a creative outlet. and one that I need. I do love to write. It's only the struggle I couldn't identify that had turned it in to a chore instead of a pleasure.

So I took some time off (that lasted longer than I intended) and let things percolate for a while. I thought about what I wanted, what I had to say, and where I wanted this blog to go. I have no idea if that's what will actually happen. That's the thing about creating something from nothing - it frequently becomes something else. To me, the end of the journey is not what's important, it's the road you take along the way.

I definitely plan on writing some longer postings. Stories from my life, my childhood, as well as a chronicle of the 20+ years I've spent finding my way in a city that allows you to constantly, repeatedly reinvent yourself. Ultimately, that's what From The Ashes has always been about. I have loved the story of the phoenix from the moment I first heard it.

Rebirth. A new life rising from the ashes of the old. Renewal. Redemption. A fresh start. It's where we are today.

In the future, we'll see where it takes us. "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Let's go.