Wounded angel

Thursday, Apr. 10, 2008 @ 10:09 p.m.

I got a message from my good friend Doug on Tuesday. He said that he needed to talk to me, and wanted to meet me out for a drink that night. I called him back, curious as heck, but he still wouldn't tell me what it was about... just that it had nothing to do with me.

I hate messages like these. These "leave you hanging" messages. They're never good news.

So that evening came. We agreed to meet at Trunks. I got there first, and after a while, he walked in, looking as if he was a doctor coming out of the operating room, about to tell me that someone I loved had died.

"So here it goes", he said.

Long deliberating pause. I held my breath.

Then the bomb came.

"I'm sick. I've never told you this, but I've been HIV positive for the past 20 years. And I just found out on Monday that my T-cell count has plummeted. I've never been in such shape ever before."

Wow.

I didn't know how to react. It's not everyday that someone tells you that they're HIV positive... and worse, that they've essentially crossed over to the AIDS domain. I didn't know what to say.

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Doug is one of my closest, dearest friends. We kind of met casually through Louis when French Fitch and I were together. Right off the bat, I knew he was a good guy. After my relationship ended, and the first time I started crawling back into the outside world again after shutting myself in for four months, I ran into Doug at The Motherlode. I told him that I'd recently broken up after a three and a half year relationship, and even though I hardly exchanged any words with him on previous occasions, he talked to me as if we'd been best friends for years. He consoled me, and he truly managed to make me feel better. After that evening, he was always willing (and even eager) to hear about the progress I was making. If you've been heartbroken before, you know that you have a tendency to dwell on things. You express the same old miserable feelings over and over again, and this is usually the time when you drive all your friends absolutely nuts with what a big mess you are. They run out of patience. They avoid you because you're such a downer.

But not Doug. Every single time I saw him out, he would ask me how I was doing without me volunteering. He would always be there for me with the right things to say, and most importantly, he would always make time to just listen to my incessant whines and rants.

We've hung out pretty much at least twice a week ever since. Whenever I go out drinking, I can always count on him to be there and we'll have a good time. Whenever I meet someone new and get all school-boyish, he'd be there. Every time those crushes fall flat on my face, he'd be there. Always non-judgmental, always full of support... and always looking out for me.

Always being a friend.

Doug has got an amazing heart. If he could, he would help every single person who approached him, and would never ask for anything in return. He's currently living with a "roommate"... a friend of his who can't work because he'd gotten into a bad accident years ago that left him with chronic back problems. His family threw him out because he was gay, and he had nowhere to go. Doug offered to let him stay with him, and he's been there for a long time. Rent-free. He would frequently need to be rushed to the hospital because of his poor health, and Doug would drop everything to take him there.

-----------------

I just sat there, with my drink in my hand, dumbfounded.

He told me about how he got infected, and how he has always been responsible with sex for the past twenty years. When he first got diagnosed, the doctors told him that he had two months to live. But he has survived and thrived for twenty years.

He said that he wanted to tell me because if anything should happen to him abruptly, at least he would know that I won't be left wondering forever.

He was so nervous in telling me. When I asked him why, he said that he was afraid that I would treat him differently once I found out. He was afraid that I would be mad at him for not telling me that he was HIV positive all this time. Of course, those were foolish concerns, because I know better. Just because he's positive doesn't mean I have to avoid contact with him. He's still the same ol' Doug. In fact, he IS the Doug that I met that very first time. I was just very shocked about his T-cell count.

I'm so very scared for him. I would say that I wouldn't want to lose him, but that would be very selfish of me. It's not about me at all. It's about this beautiful human being that I'm so extremely privileged to have been able to call my friend.

He had to make an appointment with his doctor to discuss his options. When I talked to him yesterday, he had difficulty getting a hold of his doctor. But he interpreted it this way: If his condition was dire, the doctor would be ten times more concerned (instead of being MIA), and he would be in the hospital right now. Doug was always Mr. Glass Half Full. Perhaps that's why he's been able to live well for the past twenty years.

All I can do for him is to give him positive thoughts. I don't know if that will work... but I'm sure as heck gonna try. After everything that Doug has done for me, I so wish that there's something that I can do to make everything alright for him.

Unfortunately, the best I can do is to be there for him. I feel as if I'm bailing water out of a flooded sinking boat with a teaspoon... but I'll never stop bailing.

Please be strong, Doug. The world just wouldn't be as beautiful without you.

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Wounded angel