(no subject)
My mother was diagnosed with HIV in 1993. I learned my father had full-blown AIDs in 1995. My mother passed away, and my relationship with my father has deteriorated due to distance and circumstance.
Those are all loaded statements, and I regret that the focus shifts on me as a result, but what I regret even more is that I allowed my family's shame to censor me for years. When asked for the reason why my mother lost 80 pounds and her eyesight in a mere six months, I said 'cancer' and 'terminal illness.' When those who knew better asked how she contracted the disease, I said my stepfather cheated on her.
That was true, and that is what my family chose to believe so they could release some of their grief and vilify my brother's father, but the fact remains that my mother had unprotected sex and my father was a drug addict.
Saying that used to have a stigma attached but I got over my stupidity. My mother and father were good people and even better parents. I can only hope my brother's father lives a long, healthy life.
However, the disease itself is an ugly one. There is simply no euphamism for bed sores and blisters and bacterial/fungal growths and blood clots and ulcers and soiled sheets and hair loss and weight loss. Though aside from my mother's physical deterioration, her dementia and depression was the most painful to see. In the last month, she lost basic recall. Dates and times and names were abstract at best. In her last week, she lost her will. The memory that will haunt me forever is the night she told me she was sorry for wanting to die.
My brother was born in the midst of all this. Because of my mother's weakened immune system, her pregnancy had several complications. My brother came into the world undernourished and premature. Today, he is small and slight, and he's been called slow by ignorant teachers and classmates. His eyes radiate my mother's spirit, and his smile radiate her warmth, and I am blessed that he is alive and and completely healthy. With the help of a counselor and a tutor, he is also tremendously gifted and resiliant.
I don't have a moral, I don't have any facts or figures. Like many of you, I just have some personal history attached to the date as well a desire to rewrite years of silence and a selfish need to keep my parent's memory alive.
If you are inclined to donate or to simply research, the link is here
God bless.
Those are all loaded statements, and I regret that the focus shifts on me as a result, but what I regret even more is that I allowed my family's shame to censor me for years. When asked for the reason why my mother lost 80 pounds and her eyesight in a mere six months, I said 'cancer' and 'terminal illness.' When those who knew better asked how she contracted the disease, I said my stepfather cheated on her.
That was true, and that is what my family chose to believe so they could release some of their grief and vilify my brother's father, but the fact remains that my mother had unprotected sex and my father was a drug addict.
Saying that used to have a stigma attached but I got over my stupidity. My mother and father were good people and even better parents. I can only hope my brother's father lives a long, healthy life.
However, the disease itself is an ugly one. There is simply no euphamism for bed sores and blisters and bacterial/fungal growths and blood clots and ulcers and soiled sheets and hair loss and weight loss. Though aside from my mother's physical deterioration, her dementia and depression was the most painful to see. In the last month, she lost basic recall. Dates and times and names were abstract at best. In her last week, she lost her will. The memory that will haunt me forever is the night she told me she was sorry for wanting to die.
My brother was born in the midst of all this. Because of my mother's weakened immune system, her pregnancy had several complications. My brother came into the world undernourished and premature. Today, he is small and slight, and he's been called slow by ignorant teachers and classmates. His eyes radiate my mother's spirit, and his smile radiate her warmth, and I am blessed that he is alive and and completely healthy. With the help of a counselor and a tutor, he is also tremendously gifted and resiliant.
I don't have a moral, I don't have any facts or figures. Like many of you, I just have some personal history attached to the date as well a desire to rewrite years of silence and a selfish need to keep my parent's memory alive.
If you are inclined to donate or to simply research, the link is here
God bless.