I remember the Beginning…

I remember when the Scourge descended, the Whip cracked, the Iron Bar crushed, and people wept in fear and sadness that they had never before known…

I remember when AIDS burst onto the scene with all the subtlety of a nuclear attack.

When AIDS first arrived, no one knew what was happening. It was like a nameless, destructive force that laid waste to everyone and every place it touched with it’s deadly fingers.  Entire communities were decimated by it. We didn’t even know what to call it then.  All we knew was that one day, you had a cough, or maybe an unexplainable fatigue.  Or maybe, you saw a small spot on your skin that either spread, or replicated.  Then, in a matter of a few short months (if you were lucky), you were dead.

They did not call it AIDS then.  They did not even call it “Gay Cancer” yet. But what they DID call it, and those of us who lived it, was, “Pariah”. Families would disown their loved ones.  Friends would discard each other, for fear that they might be next.  Our religious leaders blamed us, and said that this was what we deserved, and that the world was better served without us.  And those of us who were there watched as people died utterly alone, either in hospital wards far, far away from other patients, or in dark, lonely rooms, bereft of love, warmth, or peace.  

We watched, helpless, as AIDS laid waste to our Friends, our Families, even perfect strangers.  And what did all of these people have in common (besides the fact that they were all sick and dying)?  They were completely and utterly ALONE.  No one wanted to come near or even speak to someone who was ill.  No one wanted to offer the simple human kindness of a handshake, a kiss on the cheek, or even the loving and supportive hug that would have meant so much; the simple touch that let these poor, sweet people know that they were not a vile thing and that they were still loved.  They longed for that which never came: a cure, or at least someone that would still come near, and not be afraid that they would “get it” too.

That is where I and a few others in my hometown came in.  We said, “Enough!.”  None of us believed that anyone should have to suffer and die alone, in a state of hatred and indignity.  We took up the fight like avenging angels.  We knew that we ourselves could not cure these people, or bring an end to this curse of death.  But we knew that no one deserved the bleak prospect of abandonment.

That is when I started.

I am 40 years old now, and I have been a caregiver for those who have been afflicted with this terrible illness ever since that awful beginning, that terrible day that the world wept in one great voice.

I have personally buried nearly everyone that I have taken care of. I have lived through most of my life saying goodbye to some of the most amazing, loving, kind, strength-filled people that I have ever met.  The world is now two things: The worse for losing these lights, and the better for having had them in the first place.

I have held the hands of people whose dementia was so bad that they did not even know who they themselves were, let alone who I was.

I have cleaned the bodies of those whose bodies were so broken down that they could no longer control their own bodily functions.

I have lifted spoonfuls of broth to the lips of those whose stomachs were too sick to take more, and whose arms were too weak to lift in order to feed themselves.

I have held the hands and looked into the eyes of those who breathed their last breaths, so that they knew that there was at least one person who loved them, and that they did not have to die alone.

And I would not trade one single moment for anything else in the world.

There are those of us, like me, who would – and have – done all of this for nothing.  We have taken care of everyone, and not just those afflicted with AIDS.  We do this because our hearts, our very spirits call us to do so.  We will never stop, until there is no longer a need for us.  We are the unwanted bastard stepchildren of health & medical care.  And while our hearts are bottomless, and our caring limitless, our wallets are not.  But sill we do the things that doctors and nurses will not, or can not do.

We give people their lives back, as much as we are able.

We give them dignity.

We give them love.

Please love us back.

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