"M poz 4 10y. Trans in the sense that 'm a shapeshifter and opt 4 an indefinable they/them. My pseudo-self, Daxx, constructs proze & poetree puzzles with an annoying fixation on disrupting syntax & meaning so sensible types remain lost & relinquish intellectual pride 4 a safe passage back home. Thx 4 the effort."
People from all walks of life arriving in whatever state of disrepair they were in, hoping to get the right help they needed without having to wait too long. It was my lucky day when the receptionist sent me right through to the same room where I’d first seen the doc. Didn’t have to wait long for him either. “I’m sorry to tell you, Daxx, but the results came back – you’re HIV-positive. If you need a moment before we talk more, I’ll step out for a few minutes.” I told him that would be appreciated. During those 5 minutes, I took the time to allow my mind to run free with whatever thoughts popped up, all the bad and good, no filter. It was a strategy I often used to connect to my intuition. It was the one thing I trusted to guide me back to a place of love. A memory emerged of my mom talking to me about my uncle’s death.
What I didn’t realize then about my mom, I learned later in life when I became an ally to people living with HIV. My first conversation about HIV and AIDS was that day listening to my mom as tears streaked her face. She might not have been conscious of it as she spoke through her grief, but the words she used to reflect on his life and death profoundly shaped my attitude about the condition and the communities most affected by it who needed support not judgment. She knew she was talking to her impressionable 16-year-old child, and even in the grip of sadness and loss, her wisdom prevailed. Someday she might know the major role she played in helping me deal with what the doc had just told me. He returned and asked me how I was feeling. I met his eyes with a smile and said, “Doc, I’m going to be ok.” From that moment on, I embraced my life living with HIV.