Russell
Fleet ALIVE AND KICKING
ME AND MY CAT FLU
Welcome to my world. I’m Russell and I was diagnosed with the ‘cat
flu’ in 1990; took medical retirement in 1993; led the life of Riley
‘till 2000 - all on credit cards which I’m still paying off, by
the way. That spell included a round the world trip; a year studying to be
an actor and two years being an actor, most of which mainly involved sitting
at home watching daytime TV. And since 2000 I have been back in work, mainly
to pay off the aforementioned debts, but also because my brain was turning
into goo from all the daytime TV.
I’ve discovered that there’s only so much Good Morning the human
organism can stand before complete systemic collapse sets in. Admittedly it
wasn’t a rigorous scientifically designed piece of research, but as
data goes, it’s as valuable as most of the data used to support some
of the more ludicrous claims of fringe therapies... but that’s a hobby
horse for another day.
People often ask me why I refer to HIV as ‘the cat flu’. Well
I first heard it from a friend in New York City in about 1992. He’s
no longer with us now, having been one of the unlucky many who didn’t
last until PIs came on-stream, but he was an inspiration to me.
“If you don’t laugh about it, you’re sure to spend far too
much time crying about it,” he once counselled me when I called him,
distraught at some ominous looking development in my bloodwork. He refused
to let it get him down and I decided I would follow his example. And indeed,
just about everyone I say it to falls about laughing, which is the result
I want, I suppose. But I have had the occasional po-faced response from people
who have told me that I shouldn’t trivialise such a serious condition.
By the way, don’t you just love people who have the time and energy
to get offended on other people’s behalf? Personally I’m usually
far too busy... picking my battles wisely.
Actually, it’s quite apposite too. You see, I have a cat, and he also
has an incurable chronic condition which is treatable with medication. He
has to have a tablet for it every day, so the similarities between his situation
and mine are evident. We do our therapy together last thing at night. I swallow
my combo and he gets his tablet ground up and sprinkled on his fish. Sentimental
I know but hey, it’s a motivator, and we can all use some motivation
when it comes to adherence, right?
Calling my HIV the cat flu is something I do to take the sting out of it.
It puts HIV in its place, as far as I’m concerned. I suppose it does
trivialise HIV in a way, but that depends on how you define trivialise. If
you mean to treat something with undue disrespect, or to fail to accord the
appropriate level of importance to something, then I disagree. I do respect
my virus, it’s a clever little bugger, and I know if I don’t keep
on top of it, it will jump up and bite me in the bum when I least expect it.
But if by trivialise you understand that to mean to treat light-heartedly,
to view with affectionate amusement, to not take terribly seriously all the
time, then yes, I’d have to say that’s my attitude. HIV and Aids
are always written in screaming great capitals and, having been there at the
start of the epidemic, I remember only too well that dreadful ‘tombstone
and iceberg’ campaign with monolithic lettering that spelt out my impending
doom.
So calling HIV the cat flu takes all that away; it somehow makes it less frightening,
it disempowers it. I remember once telling my friend in New York that I had
read how someone with HIV made a point of always writing hiv and aids, in
lower case, to remove their power. Quick as a flash, he replied, “Wonder
if that would work with NATO?” Fair point, I suppose.
