slowly surely + xyz : a journey of (re)discovery

I AM. Faith | Accepting

By InspiredJourney

 

He attempts running errands. Didn’t go so well.

He’s lacking stamina.

A nurse follows up with a home visit.

He explains he feels good, but she tells him to take it easy, not rush and allow the energy to help his body recover.

He opts to heed that advice.

Although I speak with neighbor about his, seemingly infinite issues, I engage as if it’s an ordinary day of living issue free.

However, hours after ending our last convo, sadness fell upon me.

There was a moment in the conversation where he repeated what he told his doctor: “I’m giving these meds six months. If there was no difference in that time, I’m going to stop taking them.”

In the half beat of a heart, the thought “you won’t be here in six months”, fell across my mind. I’m not sure why, because in that moment I truly believed he would be here.

Me: Okay, I think you fought valiantly, and if taking these meds helps you continue the fight, that’s a great thing. Just don’t fight those trying to help you.

Today: Sunday, September 3, 2017.

I call neighbor to check on him.

He answers the call as energized as ever.

He’s using mindfulness practices to effect change in his body positively.

We talk.

At one point, he repeats something he said in a prior conversation, but this time adding “They are predicting death”.

I’m confused. I’m not sure why, but my mind had not comprehended the gravity of the situation.

[Confused] “Death?”, I asked.

“Yes. Death.”, he responds.

My mind replays all the notable points made in previous conversations: They want me to go into hospice; my T-cells are zero; the viral load is something like 290mil; they don’t know where the infection is; they don’t know why I’m still alive; they say I’m a fighter; this is not just HIV (in response to my using HIV during the convo), this is AIDS.

And today: There is infection everywhere. They don’t know where it is, but it’s everywhere, in my blood; I have a shrunken heart valve. It’s one reason I have the irregular heart beat; I have muscle wasting; one T-cell registers, I have none showing; the viral load is so high that all things are under attack, including my nerves. This is why I have tremors and my throat and voice are doing this thing; they say I’m in the last stages of AIDS.

My mind needs to reconcile things.

I had always communicated I’d learned the latest meds were better than the ones neighbor started a decade ago. This information was from conversing with and seeing other people living with HIV thrive on the latest meds

Neighbor was skeptical. He wasn’t trying to hear me.

I often do this by asking more questions and doing some independent research.

When reading about this subject, there were articles that indicate there have been cases where people have recovered from a zero T-cell count. So, I’m going to assigning positive energy to neighbors, and believe he’ll have a few more years to hang around and cause a bit of mischief.

Soon, I won’t have to feel a complete sense of obligation to call and check on him, because he’s scheduled to have a remote monitor placed on him. The point of it is two-fold: 1.)  Doc states it’s a way for them to be informed about his precarious condition; 2.) They want to know the moment and time, in the event if his transitioning.

The thought is rather grem, and I’m sure frightening for him, as he could have expired and no one would know. Hence my regular calls.

Now, to get him to tell his family how grave his situation is. They live on the opposite side of the  country. 

I know this series is sad and likely difficult to digest. However I was inspired to record what’s been happening, along my conscious and subconscious thoughts.

Given that I’m on the road to self-rediscovery, all events and thoughts recorded here, are in one way or another keeping my objectives front and center.

It is my hope that you finish this and have a renewed sense of purpose for living healthfully.  
To you, the one reading this, take care of yourself. That. Is. All.

Fin.



One response to “I AM. Faith | Accepting”

  1. Tracy says:

    Thank you for telling the story of your interaction with your neighbour. This is very touching.

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