White Plains, New York

Positive since 1991

I first heard of GRID (gay-related immune deficiency) in Brooklyn, where I was born. My son was 12 years old when his father died, and he did not take it well, especially when he later found out that his dad had AIDS. At the time of his death, I was living with my son and my boyfriend. My boyfriend cheated on me constantly, but even after several attempts to leave him, I would always go back.

In 1991, I met a wonderful man at work, and we formed a relationship. During one of my boyfriend’s disappearing acts, I moved in with my coworker. I left my apartment to my aunt, and when my cheating ex came looking for me a month later, my aunt told him that I had moved out. He called my work number and begged me to meet him. I gave in and met him at a restaurant in the Bronx. I was shocked by his appearance. He was as thin as a rail. When I asked what was wrong, he said that he’d been in the Dominican Republic and had gotten very sick with some sort of virus. I was already living with my coworker, and our relationship had blossomed. We even had a wedding date set for July 19, 1991.

I never told my ex about my new relationship because I did not want to hurt him; I still loved him. I loved him so much that I left the apartment I shared with my soon-to-be husband and went back to my ex, even though I was haunted by his appearance and change in personality. He looked so frail, but I thought I could nurse him back to good health.

After a month, I went back to my fiancé and resumed a normal life. Then one day in 1991, I received a call from my ex’s mother who said he was sick and in the hospital and wanted to see me. When I went to the hospital, I was shocked. He had all these tubes in him and weighed a mere 80 pounds. He was skin and bones. A physician approached me and told me my ex had tested positive for HIV and that I should also get tested.

I had to inform my fiancé that he also had to get tested. At that time, it took two weeks to get the results. I was confident that we would test negative because I felt strong. I looked beautiful. I had good nutrition and did high-impact exercise.

During those trying times, I learned that my oldest brother had also acquired AIDS. I became my brother’s caretaker, since my mother neglected him. We lost him the same year as my ex-boyfriend.

When my fiancé and I returned for our test results, he tested negative, but I tested positive. I call April 12, 1991, my death date. I explained to my soon-to-be husband that we could call off the wedding—I wouldn’t want to be married to me either. But that man loved me and stood by me. During the years I spent with him, he showed me what true love was. I went into therapy and don’t know how I didn’t lose my mind. I continued to work, exercise and live as normal a life as possible. I never told anyone about my status except my mother. She hated my ex for infecting me and made me promise not to tell a soul. I never hated him. We didn’t know about AIDS. I later learned that he was homosexual, but if anything, I felt bad for him.

In 2002, my son got into a fatal accident in Virginia Beach. I remember that day so vividly. My friends were able to track down my husband and me in a hotel in Canada where we were on vacation. I flew to Virginia to bury my only child. That was unbearable. We’re not supposed to bury our children. For the first time in my life, I could no longer bear the pain. I just wanted to die.

My husband was my rock. In 2005, I learned to live with the loss and again resumed a sense of normalcy. Then in 2006, my husband died of a massive heart attack. I questioned God, “Why does everyone I love die?” I buried my husband in Puerto Rico, where he had always told me he wanted to be when his time came. I had a beautiful support system of friends and family who got me through it all.

While in Puerto Rico, I got so sick that I developed a fever and got herpes sores on my lips. Luckily, my sister is a physician’s assistant, so she took care of me. When I returned to New York, I knew my life had to go on. One year later, I sold the house and my husband’s new car. At the urging of my friends, I moved to White Plains, New York, with no children or spouse. I have just little old me, but through the grace of God, I’m still standing.

I work part-time and live in Section 8 housing. This disease strips you of everything. Damn. But you know what? I work hard, play hard and love my life. I learned to do that through therapy and a strong belief in our Lord. The hardest part is knowing that you’ve lost so many wonderful people to AIDS. But we are a resilient bunch. I’ll be leaving soon to meet up with my friends and going to Aruba on vacation. How cool is that? Life does go on in spite of everything. Where loving relationships are concerned, I gave up. But hey, you never know.

What three adjectives best describe you?

Resilient. Determined. Funny.

What is your greatest achievement?

Working as a paralegal and a wellness coach.

What is your greatest regret?

Not finishing college (I didn’t think I’d live long enough).

What keeps you up at night?

Nada. Stress or no stress, I sleep good.

If you could change one thing about living with HIV, what would it be?

The stigma, and the government doing more recreationally for HIV-positive people. We need a break and most of us have no money.

What is the best advice you ever received?

Today is a gift. That’s why we call it the present.

What person in the HIV/AIDS community do you most admire?

The facilitator of my women’s group, who happens to be an HIV-positive man. He leads by example.

What drives you to do what you do?

The air that I breathe.

What is your motto?

Work hard. Play hard.

If you had to evacuate your house immediately, what is the one thing you would grab on the way out?

I’m not gonna lie…my meds.

If you could be any animal, what would you be? And why?

A dog because I would love you unconditionally.