This summer, Channel Five will broadcast a
ground-breaking documentary about life after an
HIV diagnosis. Terry Gee explains why he invited the cameras
to follow him around for 400 days
Performing is something I have always loved doing. At 11, I wrote, produced
and acted in a play for my primary school. After leaving high school I went
to work for a small TV production company. By 17,
I was the youngest TV director in the
country, making a show for Yorkshire Television. At 18, I even spent six months
in a boyband.
True love
I had slept with girls and boys and never pigeonholed myself as gay, straight
or bi. That came two weeks after my 16th birthday when a row with my parents
ended in my confession to being gay. I remember thinking that I could never
sleep with a girl again as it would seriously mess with my parents’
heads.
At school I was overweight, a bit of a teacher’s pet and unpopular outside
my small circle. Now, in my prime, I had men falling at my feet and lived
life to the max.
I met Rob in 2001 and launched into a five-month whirlwind romance until I
pushed him away and started seeing someone else. But Rob pursued me and it
finally struck me I was in love with him. We moved in together in 2002 and
our relationship blossomed. I was settled, content and truly happy.
Homophobia at the clinic
Two months later, Rob got very ill. His doctor told him he had glandular fever
but it failed to improve and he lost two stone. After a bumpy Christmas, Rob’s
doctor referred him to a
specialist. I reassured him, but deep down I knew something was wrong. The
specialist asked him if he was straight. When Rob told him he was gay the
doctor said: “Oh, well normal people would have got over something like
this by now,
I think you should go for an HIV test.” After that I vowed never to
let Rob see a doctor alone again.
It was a Thursday when Rob had his blood taken at the
sexual health clinic. His results were due on the Monday – the same
day I was due to start a new job. Neither of us expected a positive test result.
The health advisor told us they had found a few traces of HIV in Rob’s
blood. I burst into tears and Rob went pale and speechless and tears rolled
down his face. “Did that come as a shock?” asked the health advisor.
My turn
Through the blur of that day I remember having my blood taken, and telling
his family and my mum. It was the worst day of our lives. I had already guessed
my test result when
I returned to the clinic on 27 February 2003. I only cried when my mum was
called in. I can still see her walking towards me through the corridor saying,
“I am so sorry” and hugging me. That was the second worse day
of my life.
After the initial shock, I wanted to forget. So we got off our faces for five
days. It was the best thing we could have done. The HIV result was still hanging
in the air, but I didn’t think about it.
Proposals
I chose to tell people individually and at my own speed. For a long time I
honestly believed I was dying and was just going through the paces reassuring
everyone I wasn’t. Finally, I announced to friends I wanted to do something
to let people know HIV was still out there and it could happen to anyone.
Most of my friends had never wanted to test, preferring
‘not to know’. It was only after our diagnoses that
I realised how irresponsible this attitude was.
Two months after my diagnosis, my first TV boss asked if
I wanted to make a documentary about living with HIV. Knowing how strongly
I felt about getting my message out, Rob, my family and my close friends agreed
to take part. I was given a camera to film my life over four days for a pilot
to show Channel Five. It wasn’t difficult filling five tapes with interviews
and me talking to camera. Some of it was hard to say but I wanted so much
to show how HIV had affected me and everyone around me.
In May 2003, Rob proposed to me in front of Cinderella’s Castle at Disney
World, Florida, on a holiday arranged by our friend Jason. Later, Rob told
me he knew we were meant to be together so he could care for me and, that
if he could chose between a world without HIV or me, he’d choose me
every time. Jason also took us to see a play starring Dawn French and arranged
for us to meet her backstage. She has always been one of my heroes and I was
a bit starstruck. Looking back (see picture, page 26) I can see how ill Rob
looked then.
Back to school
On our return to the UK, Channel Five said they wanted to film us taking our
medication for the first time. For 400 days I had a small camera in the house
to film video diaries. At certain times the camera crew would follow Rob and
I: going to the hospital, at our engagement party.
The crew filmed me giving a sex education lesson at my old high school. That
was a difficult, emotional but rewarding experience. Being so young and having
sat in the same room just eight years before, I think it really hit home with
the kids.
I was never present when my mum, my brother, my friends or Rob were interviewed.
And I only spoke to the camera alone or with my producer.
The crash
In October 2003 I hit rock bottom. I had always been told that the diagnosis
would catch up with me but I had gone eight months without really feeling
down. In hindsight, I never had time to think about it. But with Rob returning
to work, and friends moving away, I suddenly felt alone.
We moved house and I stopped going out. I got so depressed I couldn’t
speak to anyone. I didn’t leave the house or answer the phone for almost
a year. Without Rob I wouldn’t be here now. But I couldn’t even
talk to him about how I felt. I wasn’t sleeping, I struggled to take
my medication. The camera became my only outlet: I told it my deepest feelings
and
problems. My true feelings are now recorded on about 50 video tapes currently
being edited by the production team.
The road back
When filming ended, I forced myself to get a job and get out of the house.
But after a month I was out of work again – the environment was wrong
and I wasn’t ready. I did six months’ temporary work with a production
company and saw a therapist who helped me build up my confidence and use cognitive
behavioural therapy to help me take my medication. I lost weight and had a
much brighter outlook. I worked on live TV for the first time, producing Mr
Gay UK for Living TV and with Barbara Windsor on a programme about her life.
Now I am chasing after my dream of being an actor. I have joined a Leeds theatre
company and am performing in a version of Annie. I have a big part in a student
film to be shown at the Leeds Film Festival later this year. For so long I
felt there was nothing to live for: existing instead of living. But two years
on and I have picked up the shattered pieces of my life.
I hope this documentary makes people think. There is not enough mainstream
information on HIV in this country
and people just don’t think it will happen to them. But
anyone who has unprotected sex at least once is susceptible.
I have only had unprotected sex with a handful of people when in relationships
with someone I trusted. But at 23,
I contracted HIV.
I did this programme to show what life is like with HIV and how it shakes
your world and affects you and those around you. I also wanted to show how
the world doesn’t stop just because of your diagnosis. I did this to
show me.
HIV has put some perspective into my life and made me stronger. I’m
not the same arrogant person I once was. But I now want to return to
being just a man ‘who has HIV’ as
a constant companion.
• Four Hundred Days of HIV will be broadcast later this summer on Channel
Five
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