SPARKY
to believe that I was a clown in need of HIV medication. Maybe I should
have gone in wearing my red nose and make-up.
Looking back, I should have told the boss and his wife; circus folk are
the most warm-hearted, open minded people you can ever meet. I still believed,
however, that while my HIV status was a secret then it wasn't really real,
and wasn't that the whole point of running away with the circus anyway?
Well, I soon found out that you can run but you can't hide, and a week
before the end of the tour I was checked into Gloucester Hospital with
a serious chest infection.
I felt totally bereft when the circus moved on without me. For once in
my life, I felt that I'd really lived a little, even if living a little
had nearly killed me.
But I realised that I'd proved that HIV was never going to stop me doing
anything I put my mind to, that in fact it had given me more incentive
to stop at nothing to pursue my dreams. Tears of a clown? Pass me that
custard pie...
page 3 of 3
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