INSPITE
OF THIS VIRUS
Epidemiologist Sathia Krishnamoorthy finds miracles, as well as horrors, in living with Aids
Aids has not taken away my dignity. It has built my character
and provided me with a chance to grow in ways I never knew possible. I wouldn’t
have wanted to have Aids, but now I think I know more about the human condition
in a way I may have taken for granted if I had lived some other life.
I have seen people living with Aids on the streets; seen a friend deteriorate
and die; seen a grown man cry and take his own life because he can’t
face the stigma. I know what it’s like to sit in a clinic with 30 or
40 people, some near death. I know what its like to sit in Central Park and
see someone living with AIDS, homeless and drunk, black out in a seizure,
because his body just can’t take anymore. I know what it’s like
to feel powerless, with no control over my own body. I know what it’s
like to see a woman who has been raped and infected with Aids deteriorate
very slowly. I know what it’s like to watch Aids tear families apart.
I have heard the religious right say people with Aids deserve this disease,
and they’re going to hell. I’ve seen babies hooked up with tubes,
in incubators waiting to find out whether or not they are going to seroconvert.
And I have seen a nurse’s face when a baby dies. I know what it’s
like to attend a memorial service where the parents wouldn’t come because
the son was gay and had Aids. I know what it’s like to see a friend
who has been abandoned by his family on his deathbed. Above all, I know what
it’s like to be afraid.
I know what it’s like to see a mother come to the hospital and see her
daughter in a coma with Aids, and contemplating whether or not it’s
time to pull the plug. I know what it’s like to see the fear in a doctor’s
face when he has to tell a mother her son has toxoplasmosis and probably won’t
make it through the night. I know what it’s like to hear the cries in
the hallway.
I know the horrors of this disease and know them well. For I have lived them,
touched them and been hurt by them. But I have also seen miracles: the moment
of compassion when a son tells his father that he has Aids, and the father
holds him, and together they weep.
There are the miracles of long-term survival; of advocacy and activism; of
having our voices heard; of forcing drug companies to make changes and actively
search for a cure.
We are the emerging survivors who reach for hope, find compassion and take
on the challenge of living by taking our meds, exercising, nurturing our mental
health, and making every moment count.
We are the ones educating the public and promoting safer sex; we are the ones
working and volunteering with Aids organizations. We are the ones who come
to a place of acceptance and a willingness and spiritual growth. We are the
emerging survivors, and we have the power to change this disease, through
advocacy, compassion, support systems and through a network of self-empowered
people touched and ravaged by a disease for 20 years.
Through advocacy we support, love and understand each other. We do not discriminate
and share our information freely; our successes and our failures. We have
learned to live with Aids and we are the ones who, with persistence, perseverance
and our voices, will ensure that at some point there is a vaccine and a cure.
I hope that -if not in my lifetime then in my little brother’s lifetime
- the emerging survivors will be the ones who find the solutions to living
with this disease.
“For some of us dare to care, in spite of the virus; For some of us
dare to love, despite the virus; for some of us dare to fight because of the
virus; for it is in caring, loving and fighting, we go on to live forever.”
