Voice of ONE

From the time we're born we begin to die. We put bad things in our bodies. We smoke, drink, eat junk food and internally think if no one knows you snuck a candy bar for breakfast it's okay.

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I got a fabulous letter in the mail a few weeks back:

Your medical provider has some important news for you. Your primary care and HIV doctor is leaving our practice and is no longer your doctor. As of 01/09/2013 he is no longer your doctor. We understand your relationship with your doctor is important to you. We want to help make this change as easy as possible.

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"I got it from her, she got it from a gay ex-boyfriend," he told his then wife.

Not that I had talked to him since BEFORE I even knew I had it. I had no contact with him after 2007.

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I am proud that I am not embarrassed by this diagnosis. I am proud that it has made me stronger and I didn't turn myself into a victim. I am proud that I have befriended the woman who acquired HIV from the same man as me.

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Everyone loves boobies. Other than me -- I want a reduction, but that's another topic for another day. One of Seattle's breast cancer walks this year was on Sept. 22nd. That was the SAME Day that Life Long AIDS Alliance had its annual AIDS Walk. The breast cancer walk was advertised everywhere, from radio to TV, and even flyers hanging around town.

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I finally had a dream I was dying of AIDS. I was living in a concentration camp-like place, just watching other people get sick, patiently waiting my turn. There were winding stairwells and the place kind of resembled a fire station training building, it was a huge square, a cold dark and ugly building. (Or maybe I was on an episode of Ghost Adventures?) Anyway, my husband Keanen was there for a visit, Myles was not. I got taken out to go shopping in San Diego, a place I remember well. I was in the Padre Store in Mission Valley. I was actually pissed off when I woke up and I was not in fact back home in San Diego.

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As some of you know, for a lot of women on this website, pregnancy came with an HIV diagnosis and medication. When people ask how you're dealing with everything, you're sick and not sure if it's because you're pregnant or on new fancy HIV medication. Maybe by the time the baby comes, you can pronounce the pills you are on.

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In a month I will have a two year old. The terrible twos or the terrific twos, I guess we'll have to wait and see. I have been trying to research what's coming next with Mr. Myles. I'm gonna go out on a ledge here and say terrible isn't coming.

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The grass is greener on my side, finally.

I made a long-awaited return to California for a week's vacation with Myles. We saw my mom, my friends and some family members. It was nice to be there for a good reason. Last time I saw most of those people I was 6 months pregnant at my father's funeral. Here we were almost 2 years later and I was not sad to be in California. My mother has moved to a different city than where my father lived. I didn't have to go to his neighborhood, see the house I partly own and might never be inside again; we didn't drive past places I remember, or had ever been.

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I know now where I got it, THIS. I no longer need a man-map trying to retrace my who's and where's of the years past. One email answered it all today. I sent an email to one of my ex-boyfriends' exes via Facebook a few weeks ago. I've known they were not together for a few months now. I noticed she was single again, and I sent her an email. We're not friends, but we KNOW each other. We have for years. I just dropped her a line saying I had no idea what happened with THEM, but I hoped she had a good new year and found a guy who treated her better than our ex. She wrote me back.

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