Response to “Am I HIV+?”
Dear God! I really have to think hard to remember the last time I read such utter nonsense!
When the author says he isn't sure he can get HIV through sexual contact, I feel like Scotty has beamed me back in to the 70s of the last century. I finished school in 1984, and I had to write a major work about biology. And that year
everybody with an IQ higher than 90 knew for sure that the MAIN reason for HIV was sexual contact… But then in the Middle Ages they were much more ignorant than in the Roman Empire. And they teach today in the USA that God buildt the world in
seven days some 6000 years ago – so there is no possibility that some petrified bones are millions of years old. And maybe Santa Claus will bring me some presents this year…
One of my best friends is gay. He caught HIV in the middle of the 90s. That was a time when persons with HIV were dying like flies. I knew and befriended some other gay men through him, and I saw some of them dying from AIDS. That's
not fun. If you are thinking that Tom Hanks is exaggerating in "Philadelphia", think twice! My friend himself was lucky. He got a place in one of the first experimental medical studies in Germany to test the first combination drugs,
and he survived. And thanks to heaven he has a really good insurance, because his actual medical bills are some 1,000 Euros every month.
Stick was saying all about responsibility towards the girls, but I'm afraid this will be lost on this guy. But to claim it makes things easier not to know weather you are positive or not – that is plain stupid! Because if you catch HIV
then you will eventually get AIDS. And without medication you will die. One of my friends lasted about 15 years without medication. He preferred shaman dances and other stuff, and the doctors regarded him a medical wonder. He died from AIDS at
40.
The above was written some days ago. I sent it as a mail to Stick, and it was not really important to me weather he would use is as a part of his weekly or throw it into the trash bin. But he kindly asked me to put some flesh to it to fit
to his minimum request of 800 words. I didn't want to change it, so I decided to tell you another two little stories of these years long ago…
Communication with my friend become more and more difficult. These tiny little viruses were digging tiny little holes in his brain (or so I thought..). But he still loved to dine out. And he was our friend, and we were taking the friendship
seriously. So there was no discussion, out we were on a Saturday evening to one of the best Italian restaurants of Nuremberg. The restaurant was famous for some of the best pizzas north side of the brennero (the main connection from Northern
Italy through the mountains to Austria). We ordered our pizzas, the food came and we had started to eat. Suddenly he got a spasm, throwing out the piece of pizza, gasping for air and breaking down on the floor. We did some first aid and then called
an emergency doctor. Some time later he came, tried to stabilize him and eventually took him to the nearest hospital. Everybody in this totally cramped restaurant was staring at us, und we stared back. Nobody said a word. But everyone of our party
knew what they were seeing – a dying man.
About six weeks later I had an extended weekend off work. I was taking my bicycle to the train station and took a train to the northern end of Bavaria. I rode my bike along the shore of the river Saale. It was not the normal ride along a
river – I had to do ascents to the hills up to 18%. It was demanding and I enjoyed every minute. When I arrived in Jena I watched a game of the Germans in the world championship of 2002.
Do you remember this championship? It wrote one of the best stories I've ever heard. The German team wasn't really good that year, but they had the best goalkeeper in the world, Oliver Kahn. He was in the form of his life. When
the German team was playing you had tears in your eyes, but the other teams couldn't win. So through a mix of sheer luck and the incredible performance of Kahn the Germans stumbled along to the final. And there Kahn made a stupid, stupid
mistake which allowed Brazil the 1:0. The game was lost, and Kahn was back to us mortals. He had built it up and he destroyed it… When I was talking about the game nobody was too sorry. It just hadn't been right if we had won the final.
But I'm digressing. The next day I was riding my bike the 25 kilometres from Jena to Weimar. I arrived early in the beautiful city of Schiller and Goethe, the two giants of German literature and poetry. The sun was shining, I had something
to eat and some cold ones. Life was really beautiful. And I was strolling through the streets again. Suddenly my cellular phone made a little noise. I had received a very, very short SMS with the text: “He is dead”. I cancelled the
remaining day of my journey, rode my bike to the station and took the next train home. We gathered in his apartment to say goodbye, and when I reached my own apartment I was drunk like hell…
I was just talking about gay men. But if you are thinking you have to be gay or drug addict to get the nasty stuff – let me tell you that's another fairy tale of the 70s. It's just the case that I have no personal experience
with heteros dying from AIDS. So Scotty, please, beam me up. Let's leave the ignorant times behind.
And don't get me wrong. I'm not holier than Thou. I want my fair share of the fun which is available. I just know what to do to improve my odds. And I will be back in Bangkok in 12 days on my way to Phnom Penh. So bargirls, freelancers
and office beauties: Keep your eyes open, because I will be back!
I hope I haven't bored you. So, happy hunting to you all. And the best prey to me!!!
Stickman's thoughts:
Unfortunately there are a lot of guys out there who don't use protection as a matter of course.
