Bi-Yearly HIV Appointment - Abnormal cells, medication change & more!

I had my bi-yearly appointment with my HIV doctor yesterday. My appointment was in person, not a telephone appointment. At first I was annoyed by this, I didn't want to drive all the way downtown. However, getting to see my doctor and nurse was great. They are both so kind, friendly and energetic. It was also good to get out and have a regular appointment which provided some normalcy during these uncertain times.

My viral load is still undetectable woot woot! We are going to switch my medication from Triumeq to Dovato. Apparently,studies show that three medications in one aren't needed for people who's HIV has been stable. I'm down for that! It's still only one pill but the less medication I need to take feels like a good thing since, I take quite a few for different issues. 

Unfortunately my liver enzymes are still high. Three years ago my family doctor sent me for an ultrasound, I was told I have the beginnings of non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. Well, three years later my enzymes are still high so I have to go for another ultrasound. Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, my appointment is on August 24th. I've been trying to eat healthy, the struggle is real.

I LOVE fast food. My Mom barely cooked when I was a kid, so we ordered out a lot. Our fridge and pantry were always full, my Mom bought healthy things but when we had pizza pops and wagon wheels in full stock all the time and she was at work all the time, choosing healthy was rarely a thing. My poor brain has been loving fast food since I was a kid. When I'm happy I want fast food. When I'm sad, I want fast food. When I'm angry, I want fast food. 

I've tried over the years, many, many, many times to stop eating fast food. My doctor was like you need to eat healthy, exercise and lose weight. I said "I'm trying." I've been going for long walks. I've been increasing my fruits and veggies but sometimes the cravings for fast food are so intense. Lately I've been working on self-compassion and working on my anxiety. I keep reminding myself every time I try to quit fast food cold turkey, I always crash. So I am trying to make small changes and increase them over time. I rarely drink alcohol anymore. Last year I decided to limit drinking alcohol to help my physical and mental health. I realized even if I just have a couple of drinks, my mental health would be impacted negatively because of it. 

I also have to go see a gastroenterologist because my anal pap smears keep showing abnormal cells (atypical squamous cells of undetermined significance - ascus). A few years ago I had to have some of the cells removed for a biopsy (side note: the doctor accidentally shocked my asshole and then I awkwardly had to figure out how to put a maxi pad on - (I'm a guy) - with no help from the medical staff, I realized it attached to the underwear haha). Thankfully the biopsy didn't come back as cancerous. Fingers crossed that will be the result again.

I also have to go for tests for blood sugar and cholesterol because I haven't had those done in quite awhile.

It was quite a jam packed appointment, usually I go in and it's:

💊 Any issues taking your medications? / How many doses have you missed?

💊 Your viral load is undetectable

💊 Your shots are all up to date

💊 Here is your prescription, see you in 6 months

I am thankful that I have an awesome doctor and an awesome nurse. I am thankful that anytime I've needed a shot, the cost is covered by our healthcare. I am thankful when I've needed a procedure, I didn't have to worry about going into health care debt, that our taxes go to our healthcare. I am thankful that I can discuss my HIV and my other health issues and needs with my family and friends.

Group Therapy Post #6 - Support Group

I'm at my next appointment with Bob. It's just a quick appointment today. He let's me know that I have been accepted into the Evening Treatment Program. They just have one condition, that I stop drinking alcohol one month before I start the program and no drinking during the program. I tell him that is no problem. I actually hate drinking when I am depressed. He asks me how the Zoloft is going, I tell him it is fine. He lets me know that there is about a two to three month wait to get into the program. They will call me in a couple of weeks, before my start date, to let me know when I will start. He lets me know that there is a support group every Friday that I can attend while I am waiting to get in. It's completely voluntarily. I tell him it is something I will definitely take advantage of. I leave his office smiling, I am excited that I got accepted. I am nervous as hell but ready to deal with my demons and move forward.

It's Friday and I am getting ready to go to the support group. I am feeling extremely nervous. Am I really going to sit in a room full of strangers, talking about our problems? I get in my car and head to the hospital. I park my car far away in a neighbourhood so I can get free parking. I am walking toward the hospital and every foot I get closer the more my heart beats. My heart is pounding, I am freaking out. How many people are going to be in this support group? Am I going to be the one with the most issues? Am I the most fucked up? Should I even do this? I get to the hospital early, it's still a half an hour till support group starts. I keep walking by the Psychiatric Clinic doors like a creepy stalker.  I tell myself I can just run away, I don't have to do this. The support group is voluntary I am not even required to go to this. But then I think to myself if I can't even go to the support group, what makes me think I can go to group therapy five days a week, every evening.

I finally walk through the doors. I always worry that someone I know will see me walk into the Psychiatry Clinic. The stigma around mental health is just as bad as the stigma around HIV. Mental Health = crazy. HIV = dirty. There is quite a few people in the waiting room. Is everyone waiting, here for the support group? I guess not all, some are probably here for just regular appointments. All of a sudden two therapists show up and say, everyone here for support group follow us. A whole whack of us follow them to a room setup for the support group. I take a seat and wait for everyone else to get seated. I am nervous, there are a lot of people here. At least with a lot of people here, I can probably get away with not talking. One of the therapists passes around a sign in sheet, and goes over the rules of support group. A woman all of a sudden starts crying and talks about why she is there. (To respect privacy I won't mention details about people), she talks about how she was diagnosed with an illness recently. She is worried about how it will affect her life and what people will think about her. She was diagnosed with MS. A few people speak up and offer her words of encouragement. Some people share stories about how they relate. I am trying to work the courage to speak up. I can relate, I have HIV. I want to help her, I don't even think about how sharing will help me, the thought doesn't even cross my mind. I feel so bad for her and want her to feel better. But at the same time, am I really going to tell a room full of people that I have HIV? A disease that has such a huge stigma around it. I finally speak up and tell her I can relate. In March of 2010 I was diagnosed with HIV, it was a few months before I told my closest friends. She asks me how they took it. I tell her they took it really well, they felt really sad for me. They were also angry that I waited to tell them, that I held it in for those few months. They don't treat my any differently. They still treat me as the same friend I was and continue to be. One of the therapists asks me if I would like to hear feedback from the group. I say yes I guess. I think to myself, I thought I was just relating, not really trying to share. A few people talk about how brave I was to share with the group, how it took a lot of courage. A few relate with illness they have. I sit there, relieved that everyone was so supportive, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it is called support group.

Even though I am relieved, my face is burning with embarrassment, I feel embarrassed that I shared that with complete strangers. Support group ends, we all leave the room, we quietly and awkwardly (awkward for me at least) walk down the hallways and out of the Psychiatry Clinic. We all go our separate ways. I let out a huge sigh of relief and feel proud of myself. Now to try and keep that courage and show up to next weeks support group.

Did I do it to myself?

I came across the quote "It's no fun to have HIV even though it's viewed as a chronic, controllable disease. It means being wedded to the health system." A man by the name of Phil Berger is credited as saying this.

I thought about this quote and how it applies to me. There have been many times I have felt guilty about contracting HIV, especially when I was first diagnosed. I've spent a lot of my life putting myself down. There has been many times when I take my medication that I think to myself, I am a burden on the health care system. Where I live, my medication is paid for by the government. Every cent. I know I am very fortunate that my medication is paid for, but sometimes it makes me feel guilty.

I have lost count how many times a friend, family member or doctor has said to me at least it's not a death sentence. I know when someone says this to me, they say it as a sign of support. But at the same time I feel like they are downplaying my illness. This says more about me and my insecurities and issues with the disease. To me it's a big deal. I have this disease that is trying to kill me. It's roaming around in my bodily fluids, attacking my body trying to destroy my immune system. I take these medications every day and everyday I have diarrhea. When I first started taking HIV medications, the first week was hell. I was extremely nauseated and vomitting. It was horrible. It was like the worst flu I have ever had.

A question needs to be answered. Did I do it to myself? Is it my fault I got HIV? Some people would say that's an easy question to answer. They would simply say yes. Yes it's your fault you got HIV. You knew that having unprotected sex could lead to you having HIV. You are the one who let the guy insert his penis in you without a condom. Do I deny that? No I don't. I did know that having unprotected sex could lead to contracting HIV. I did let the guy insert his penis in me without a condom. I didn't ask him what his status was. Other questions need to be asked. Why would I have unprotected sex, knowing I could contract HIV? Shouldn't it be human nature to protect oneself? If so, why would I risk getting HIV?

I didn't have any self worth. If I had no self worth why would I care about getting HIV? I didn't care about myself, didn't love myself. I have battled major depression throughout most of my life. As every year passed, each bout of depression got worse. As the darkness inside me grew, the more destructive things I did to try and forget about those feelings.  I would eat a lot of fast food to try and make the bad feelings go away. I would eat McDonalds, KFC, Taco Bell; as long as it was greasy I would eat it. The cravings I would get for fast food while I was depressed were intense. I felt like an addict. I would take that first bite of food and instantly I would feel better. The salt, grease and sugar would give me a temporary high. A high that didn't last very long. I would go home and go to bed feeling disgusting. These feelings would follow me to the next day. I needed to get rid of these feelings so I would go and have sex.

When I first started being promiscuous in high school, I would mainly just have oral sex. Once in awhile I would have anal sex. If I did have anal sex it was always with a condom. As the years went on, once in awhile I would have sex without a condom, but I would tell the guy he couldn't ejaculate inside me. Then that didn't give me the high I need to mask my feelings, so I started letting the guys ejaculate inside me. Sometimes I would freak out that I might get HIV, but normally I wouldn't. I didn't give a fuck, I didn't like myself, a lot of times I hated myself. This was my punishment. I never thought to myself, I hope I get HIV, or I am going to have unprotected sex to get HIV. But deep down I thought to myself, if I do happen to get it, I would deserve it.

After awhile the high was weakening, so I was having sex with more and more guys, more often. I would meet guys from websites online and I would go to the bathhouse. I would try and have sex with as many guys as possible. I needed to keep the high going. When I was feeling disgusted with myself for having unprotected sex, I would go and eat fast food. When I would feel disgusted with myself for eating so much, I would go and have sex. It was a vicious cycle I was caught in, I couldn't get out. I couldn't tell anyone, because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed. HIV has a stigma attached to it, so do mental health issues. I didn't feel like I could tell anyone, I would be judged, I would be hated. No one would understand. So I kept it all in. Because I kept it all in I kept acting out in destructive ways.

Why didn't I have any self worth. For me to answer that question I need to look back at my childhood. Just a few months ago I wouldn't have been able to answer this question. After spending four months in an intensive group therapy program I can answer it. My parents fought, they fought a lot. I remember when I was seven, I was in my room sleeping. I woke up to my mom and dad yelling at each other. I could hear my dad threatening to kill himself. I heard my mom yell to my sister to hide the knives. Then I heard my mom yell, call the police. My sister did call the police, apparently the SWAT team showed up. I was upstairs all alone, frightened not understanding what was going on. I have another memory from when I was seven. It was summer time and the neighbourhood kids and I were having a water fight. One of the neighbours, a grown man joined in and was shooting us with a water gun from his back door. He kept running inside and closing the door so we couldn't get him wet. Well being seven I thought I was all smart, and decided to engage the lock on his door when he wasn't looking so when he closed the door behind him so we wouldn't get water in his house, he would be locked out so we could get him wet. I didn't think about how he would get back inside - I was seven. Well he tried to go back inside and the door was locked. He lost it. He came out of the back yard, started yelling and yelled who the fuck locked my door? The kids pointed at me. He came at me, grabbed me and started walking towards the managers place of the townhouse complex we lived in. I was scared and I was screaming and crying. I kept asking him to let me go, he was holding me so tight it hurt to breathe. He told me to shut the fuck up and slapped me across my face and side of the head. I told him if he put me down and let me walk I would stop crying. He put me down and I made a break for it. I didn't get very far, he grabbed me and hit me again. My friends ran to my house and got my dad. My dad came flying around the corner. My dad told me to go home. Surprisingly my dad somehow kept his temper in check and  didn't kill him. My dad called the police and I had to tell them what happened. It turned out the guy was drunk. After that it was never spoken of. My mom and dad never asked me if I was okay, it just was never spoken of. My mom and dad split up when I was eight. My sister rebelled my getting into crime. My brother dealt with it by getting involved in sports. I was the forgotten one. My mom worked all the time, because she was depressed. She would go to work at five in the morning and not get home till eight or nine at night. I basically raised myself. It was very lonely. I never had anyone to talk to, I never had anyone teach me how to deal with my feelings properly. I was bullied a lot in school. The boys would take my clothes and put them in the shower so I would have to walk around in my gym clothes all day. The one time I tried to tell my mom what was happening the response I got was "other kids have it worse. It can't be that bad." So I held my feelings in, no one cared. My teachers knew this was happening, they didn't do anything. No one cared, why should I? When I was twelve I was raped in a public washroom by an older man. I kept that in, again why would I tell anyone? No one would probably believe me. There are many other traumatic events that have happened but the point is, my childhood had a huge impact on who I am today. So when someone says how could you be so stupid for contacting HIV, you should know better? My response is going to be "no I shouldn't have known better. How could I have known better. No one taught me any different. No one was there for me. Going through the group therapy program and looking back at my childhood I am not shocked that I contracted HIV. I am shocked I didn't contact any other diseases, I am shocked I didn't develop a drinking problem or a drug problem to cope.

My point is contracting HIV is not a black and white issue. There are a lot of grey areas. A lot of it comes down to circumstance and mental health. There will never be an easy answer, but if we never talk about it honestly and openly then we will never find an answer. This has been extremely difficult for me to write. Even though my blog is anonymous, I still find it embarrassing to admit some of these things. At the same time, it has been therapeutic and if it can just help a few people by sharing these intimate details then that makes me happy. It's funny, I didn't originally plan for this post to be so long and so detailed. I originally just meant to write about what the quote meant to me and how I feel like a burden on the healthcare system. It's interesting how a simple quote was able to bring up so much for me. Thanks for listening.

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I was diagnosed with.....

Asthma. This past Tuesday I had my doctor's appointment. He referred me to the Lung Clinic to have a Pulmonary Lung Functioning test. Surprisingly I got a call the very next day from the Lung Clinic, they were able to get me in for six p.m. I arrived for 6 pm and was taken to a glass chamber. It was very creepy. The technician went over the equipment and the tests we would be doing. I had to do several different types of breathing tests. After the breathing tests, I felt dizzy and very tired. I went home and slept.

The next morning I received a call from the doctor at the Lung Clinic. He started off by saying "I don't normally call, but I was just reviewing your tests results before sending them to your family doctor and your tests results are extremely concerning. Your lung function is very poor, you have very severe Asthma. I want you to see your family doctor today, to get on a puffer. I will also call your doctor to make sure you get in today." I was surprised, and thanked him for calling me so promptly. I called my doctor's office when they opened. I said "hey it's Jared calling." She replied with "hey I was just about to call you." They got me in that day, they scheduled me for 5:15 pm, fifteen minutes after they close.

I arrived at my doctor's office, the ladies working the front were super friendly and welcoming as always. I was taken too a room and my doctor showed up a few minutes later. He started off by saying "good thing we kept doing all those tests." I said "yes it is, it makes sense why I was so tired all the time." He gave me a prescription for two inhalers and I went to the Medicine Shoppe next door. Before I went to the Pharmacy I asked him could the Asthma because the weird numbness in my face and the weakness in my left arm and leg. He gave me a weird look and said "who knows, we will have to wait and see." I am assuming that is a probably not.

I love my pharmacist, he is amazing. He knows my name, remembers a lot about me. He asked me how my Vitamin D was doing, I told him after a year it is finally up to normal. He asked me why I was all of a sudden being prescribed inhalers. I told him about the fatigue and shortness of breath that I have been having since September. I told him about the breathing test and that it came back I have severe Asthma. He got the inhalers and showed me how to use them. He said you see the directions on them, I said yes, he said your not going to follow what the doctor told you. The doctor told you to take one to two puffs twice daily. I want you to take two puffs, four times daily for two weeks and then the one to two puffs twice daily. That way we can get the Asthma under control. He then wanted to update my file, to make sure everything was up to date and accurate. He printed off all the test results I've had done since August and went through them. He noticed my magnesium as on the lower side of normal, so he recommend I take a magnesium supplement. He's a great pharmacist.

I started taking the inhaler last night. I really hope it helps with the fatigue. I want my life back, I want to be able to hang out with my friends on a regular basis. I want to be able to work full time.

Health Update - Fake stroke and falling asleep while pooping

I had my latest appointment with my HIV specialist a couple of weeks ago. CD4 cells were 640 and my viral load is still undetectable. YAY! I was on Atripla for over a year, but I couldn't handle the side effects anymore. I kept having such vivid, intense dreams every night it felt like I wasn't sleeping at all. In August I told my doctor and we switched my meds to Truvada, Reyataz and Norvir. I haven't been having crazy dreams and my sleeping has been much much better. Going through group therapy made me realize, I need to learn to speak up. Just because I have HIV doesn't mean I don't deserve to have a good quality of life. I've spent a lot of time feeling guilty for contracting HIV and group therapy has helped me learn how to forgive myself.

In other health matters, things have not been going so well. Starting in September I started having fatigue. I assumed that it was from being in group therapy four hours a day and once I was done I would start feeling better. I finished group therapy at the end of September and the fatigue has been getting worse and worse. I am extremely exhausted every single day. Thankfully I am still on medical leave from being in the group therapy, so I am only working 4 hours a day. I work from 8 am to 12 pm and it feels like I worked a sixteen hour shift. I go home and nap for 4-5 hours and then I have no problem sleeping my regular 7-8 hours a night.

Everything I do makes me tired and short of breath. Walking to the basement to do laundry, makes me tired and short of breath. It's ridiculous. A couple of weeks ago I shovelled the side walks and thought I was going to die I was so tired and out of breath. I went in the house (I can't believe I am going to share this) and had to go to the washroom. I was sitting on the toilet and...... I fell asleep! Yup that is correct, I fell asleep while pooping. WTF?! Who falls asleep while pooping? Not normal. I told my doctor about all this and his response was that it was probably my depression that was making me so tired. He suggested I go back on an anti-depressant. I told him I wasn't feeling depressed, I told him that I don't feel sad and I'm not withdrawing from friends and family. He said to just give the anti-depressant a try. I filled the prescription for the Celexa and after a few weeks, I let him know my mood was really great on the Celexa but I was still feeling exhausted and sleeping a lot. (My friends said I seemed so cute, happy and jolly - tee hee) I had also been to the hospital in that time because I was having troubles breathing and having chest pains.

The hospital ran a lot of blood tests, checked my thyroid, checked for infections, all came back normal. They took a stool sample (the highlight of that was when the nurse yelled down the hall to me - while I was waiting to get my chest x-ray) - she yelled "Jared is this your stool sample in here?" Yup, thanks for letting everyone know, I crapped into a container. All the tests and chest x-ray came back normal, they sent me home. Most recently my doctor sent me for a sleep apnea test and stress test. I have an appointment with him on Tuesday to review the results.

Then I have been having weird, creepy stroke symptoms. A few weeks ago I woke up and I had this weird numbness on the left side of my face and my left arm felt a little weak. I went to work and joked with my co-worker that I was probably having a stroke. After work I went to Arby's, I'm sitting there eating my sandwich and my hands won't work. I am trying to pick up the sandwich, I know how to pick up a sandwich, but my hands just won't do what I want them to do. I am freaking out, trying not to cry. After a couple of minutes I finally manage to get the sandwich into my hands,  but my mouth won't work. I am trying to bite and chew but my brain says nope, not today! The food just falls out of my mouth. After a couple of minutes my hands and mouth start working again but now I feel dizzy and really out of it. I keep thinking to myself, I need to get home, need to get home. I get up and drive home. Thankfully I made it home safely. I walk in the door and my roommate (my friend of eleven years), can instantly tell somethings wrong. She looks at me and says "what's wrong." I'm trying to respond but I can't find the words, all I can get out is "my brain won't work." "Umm what happened" she responds. I try to tell her about the Arby's incident, later she tells me I was talking really slow and slurring some of my words. I tell her about my hand's and mouth not working, she says "umm I think your having a stroke, I am taking you to the hospital."

Off to the hospital we go. I had to wait an hour to get in, which is extremely fast compared to the time I had appendicitis and had to wait seven hours to be seen. The triage nurse is asking me questions, it's taking me forever to respond. She asks me to spell my name and I just stare at her blankly. I get brought in and they do some neurological tests. My left arm, hand and left leg are considerably weaker than my right side, which worries them. They shine light in my eyes and I want to punch them in the face it hurts so much. The week before when I was in the hospital, they put the light in my eyes and I didn't even flinch. They give me two chewable advils and tell me they are going to send me for a CT scan. I see the head doctor in the distance, my he is good looking. I am wheeled to the CT scan and the CT technologist is also quite good looking. I think to myself, is this Grey's Anatomy? They complete the CT scan of my head and send me back. The guy taking me back is very cute. Do they schedule all the good looking people to work at the same time? Or is my stroke making everyone seem good looking? Who knows. My friend and I wait and wait and finally the neurologist comes.

CT scan came back normal, which is good but a CT scan won't always show if there is a stroke. They want to do an MRI but can't do one till morning, so I was admitted and had to stay overnight for observation. The next morning I have my MRI. Oh my lord, the MRI machine is loud. It sounds like someone is doing construction right next to your head. Is this machine from 1935? After thirty minutes the MRI is finally down. Back up to my room I go. The head neurologist comes up and says my MRI has come back normal. Definitely not a stroke. She says they think my symptoms are being caused by a migraine with aura. I respond with "but I don't have a headache." She tells me that can happen sometimes. I look at her skeptically. She asks me how the numbness is and I tell her it's still there but not as bad as the day before. She said that's good, that they are going to send me home. She tells me if it doesn't go away in a couple of days or get's worse to come back to the ER.

Well two days later it's worse. My hand keeps seizing/locking up, the numbess is in the left side of my neck, my ears, and the back of my head. I am nauseated off an on. I go back to the ER, wait three hours to be seen. The doctor says they are going to give me some migraine medications via IV and an anti-nauseant via the IV. I get my IV, I get my meds and the numbess starts going away. Yay, maybe it is just a creepy migraine with aura with no headache I am having. The doctor writes me a prescription and I leave. WELL! I am driving home and the numbess comes back with a vengance. It goes from my left temple, my left ear and to the bottom of my jaw. I am angry and refuse to go back to the hospital. I go home and go to bed. The next day, I decide to fill the prescription, maybe it just needs a few days to work. NOPE! Medication was definitely making it worse. I stopped the medication and went to my family doctor. I told him what happened and he looked at me with a WTF look. He prescribes me a different migraine medication - Flunarizine. I fill that medication and start taking it. I have been on it for two weeks now and no improvement. On the plus side it hasn't made things worse. If this truly is a migraine with aura with no headache, is it then the longest migraine ever? This past Friday my symptoms were really bad. Numbness on the side of my face, my left hand kept seizing/locking up, especially when I had to do things at work like remove a paper clip. It's been extremely frustrating and scary. Whenever I google/research my symptoms, MS always comes up. Whatever it is, I hope we figure it out soon and hope it's treatable.

I showed up for my appointment, yay!

So, I show up for my appointment. It probably helped that my good friend was coming with me for support. We met a half an hour before the appointment at a coffee shop.

I started the day, not wanting to get out of bed. I love sleep and I love my bed. I truly do. BUT, I got my ass out of bed at 11:30 am, I can't remember the last time I got out of bed before noon. Oh wait I remember, it was when I had a horrible experience at an employment agency and I was told I couldn't have the job because I had two late payments on my credit report... but that's a whole other story.

So, I got out of bed and had a shower. I then blow dried my hair and decided to flat iron my hair... I know, could I be any more gay! My flat iron is awesome! My friend bought it for me, she's a hair dresser, it's so tiny and cute. So anyways, after flat ironing my hair I realized I was behind schedule, so I didn't have time for breakfast.

I was two minutes late meeting my friend; I was late for good reason though, I parked 10 blocks away for free parking and walked all the way to meet her, it was a way to get exercise..... yes that's why I did it... exercise haha.

I ordered a caffee latte, I should mention I hate the taste of coffee. I was assuming it would be creamy like chai lattes I get, but oh no, I was wrong. Coffee to me, tastes like dirt. So I went to the counter to get sugar; well I almost put salt packets in my coffee, but thankfully the coffee gal working pointed me in the direction of the sugar. I put some sugar and milk in it... and then it tasted wonderful. Now I was all jittery from not eating and drinking coffee. My appointment was at the STD clinic... they have a doctors clinic there. To get to the reception desk, you have to walk down a long hallway. I like to call it the "walk of shame". One of these days, I really want to burst to in an exam room and say "how's that q-tip in your penis?".

So we get to the reception desk and the woman in the chair looks at me and then walks away. There are 6 other people and they are having a conversation. All I ask is to be acknowledged. Just a "hi, we will be right with you would suffice." But noooo that would be too simple. So anyways someone finally acknowledges me and tells me to have a seat.

S0 the doctor comes and gets me and we go to one of the rooms. She asks me if I have a list of my partners from January 2008, oops I thought they wanted from January 2009, not like it matters because I could only provide a list of three people. Unfortunately, most of my partners were anonymous that I either met offline or at a bathhouse. I'm not proud of it, I wish I would have had the ability to seek help for my depression, but I didn't. What's done is done. Need to look forward.

So then she asks me if I would like a book on HIV. I tell her yes I would . She hands me the book. This book is like a freaking text book! It has 22 chapters! Then I get on the bed thingy (I can't remember what it's called, I have had a couple of coconut rum and pepsi lime drinks while writing this... tee hee). She puts the rubber band around my right arm but can't find a vein. The she ties it around my left arm and finds a usable vein. While she is doing this I think about my appointment two weeks ago, when the nurse was trying to find my vein and kept calling my veins little buggers (best nurse ever by the way, I have never laughed so much at a doctors appointment). So anyways, she puts the needle in and jokes that I probably won't need a blood transfusion after. I ask her how many viles of blood she is taking and she tells me 11. I think to myself "shit, I should have had some breakfast." I am staring at the roof and the air vent catches my attention, it's effing crusty. It's all brown and dusty. What the hell?? It looks like someone took a shit on the roof.

Then she asks me what I do for a living. I tell her I work in a call center for a pizza company taking complaints. I go on about how people are passionate about their pizzas and that the world comes to an end when we forget their dipping sauce. She starts laughing and says she couldn't do my job, she would just end up telling people off. So finally she is done stealing all the blood out of my body. She leaves the room via the side door, and then come backs through another door. She says ha! I am houdini! I laugh, and think to myself, wow I am lucky that I have such awesome nurses/doctors to deal with. She tells me they take so much blood to test me for everything and anything such as tuberculosis and stuff. She hands me a form to go get chest x-rays taken, which also tests for tuberculosis.

A few thoughts go through my mind. First one is: this is what my life is going to be, constant medical test the rest of my life, fuck! Next I think thankfully I live in Canada and this is all covered by healthcare because right now I have no money (that is a whole other story I have to talk about).

So I leave the room and go to the waiting room where my friend is waiting for me. We leave and we go run some errands she has to do. We are at an office, she has some forms to fill out. I am standing beside her and start to feel light headed. I remember that I didn't eat breakfast and had 11 viles of blood taken, soooo maybe I should have something to eat. So when she is done, we head to the food court. This is the weakest food court I have ever seen. I am a food court connoisseur. I demand that I have selection! There is like 3 things to choose from. So I end up eating teriyaki chicken stir fry. It was good, but I still like to have options. I come home and take all my clean laundry off the floor and finally hang it up. I then watch the last half of hour of America's Next Top Model and realize why I stopped watching the show.... Tyra is freaking annoying!

Well that's my day, I know I rambled but it feels good to talk about what happened, to talk about the good, the bad and even the insignificant details of my day.

Tee hee. ( I love saying tee hee)