January 26, 2015
Another month has come and gone and all is well in the South-ish. I am back on meds; my CD4 is still over 200, so yay for that. One day I'll make it to the 300s; one day.
My Halloween doctor appointment with Myles was a long pain in the butt. They gave me an HIV test since I did not have my medical records on me; I told them to save the money and Google me. I know those tests are expensive. I failed -- or passed -- that test again.
We were there for hours. I had my labs done, got flu and pneumonia shots, met with my new doctor. They even fed Myles some pizza from their Halloween lunch party that afternoon after he complained about being hungry from the time we walked in the door. He began this at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance and now he associates doctor's offices with a cafeteria and snacks, which is not a good thing. Knowing this I packed snacks, toys, crayons and coloring books but none of them seemed to entertain him.
He watched me have my blood work done; after, it took a lot of talking to convince him that next time he goes to the doctor he will not need to have blood work done like mommy.
Halloween night was magical and I'm not even a child. Last year Myles spent the night at my mother-in-law's and I went to the hospital to check on my father-in-law. He came home the next day from his second round of chemo; it was cold and raining and Keanen had no fun. We were worried and stressed out. We had two trick-or-treaters ... two.
This year Keanen got off work early and we all went together. I had never seen so many trick-or-treaters in real life. It reminded us of the movie ET. It was a nice warm dry night. Something I have never said about Halloween in Seattle. We were in T-shirts and didn't go home soaking wet needing hot chocolate or a fire wrapped in blankets. Myles was Yoda but hated his hat, so he ended up being a Jedi knight instead. Us adults wore Seattle Seahawks football jerseys and stirred up chat with Cowboys fans.
I'm back on the job hunt and I'm trying not to get stuck in cubicle jail again, we'll see how that goes. I want to be an HIV advocate, but not having much luck finding anything like that. I have been noticing that HIV is listed on a lot of online job applications as a disability. I sit and look at the question box debating my answer. If they Google me and I said no, am I lying? Do I say yes?
It doesn't affect me daily other than headaches and night sweats; those don't stop me from working or house momming, and everyone gets headaches. I need to restock my interview outfits and hopefully find a casual-dressing job since I have not had a "dress up" job since the late '90s. I only own one nice pair of pants.
We had our first Thanksgiving and Christmas alone, parentless or friendless, ever; it was kind of nice to hang out in our PJs all day. We didn't overeat or overcook; it was nice to just have some family time. Myles, aka "Little Chef," helps in the kitchen daily.
He wants to be on the TV show "Master Chef Jr" in a few years so he assisted in making both of those meals and helps daily in the kitchen. He drags a chair around so he can reach the countertop or stove and stir or add ingredients to mixing bowls or pots and pans on the stove. He talks to the imaginary camera while doing so, letting them know what he's cooking and what he is doing. He knows how to use the toaster on his own -- "Master Chef Jr" here we come.
Myles just lost his second tooth and is working on his third. He only talks about having a brother or sister daily and lets me know what toys he will share and which ones he will hide if we ever have another baby. No we're not even trying yet, but soon.
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Brooke grew up in San Diego, Calif., and from a young age she wanted to change the world with her words. She has been writing poetry since 1992, and majored in journalism in school.
She was diagnosed with AIDS when she was eleven weeks pregnant in her first year of marriage. She is now a single mother living in Long Beach, Calif.
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