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.

WebRep

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I Have HIV

I have HIV

I feel alone sad and hopeless

I have HIV

I need somebody to stand by me

I have HIV 

I deserve to be happy

I want to smile

I have HIV 

Please be there for me

I have HIV 

I'm strong I'm brave I'm bold

I have friends and family

I have HIV

I am loved and love myself

I am happy I am healthy I am strong

I have HIV; HIV doesn't have me 

Group Therapy Post # 4

I'm at my Family Doctor's office for a follow up appointment. Sitting here staring at the ugly pink walls, waiting for my name to be called. It's been a crazy couple of days. Going on Short Term Disability, going for an assessment at the Psychiatry clinic. How did my life get here? Is my life ever going to be a happy one? I'm so tired of feeling like this, sometimes I wish I wouldn't wake up.

Jared! I jump up startled, I was so deep in thought, my name being called startled me. I follow the nurse into the room and she tells me to have a seat, she closes the door behind me. I wait, and wait and wait, and wait some more. He's really going to keep me waiting this long? I am having mental health issues, you don't want to piss off the crazy person. I laugh to myself, this is how I normally deal with things, make a joke, make light of it. My doctor finally walks in, he asks me how I'm doing. Really, how am I doing? My hair is a mess, I haven't shaved, I'm doing wonderful! I respond, still feeling depressed. He asks me how my appointment at the Psychiatry clinic went. I tell him that they told me I have major depression and that they have a program called Evening Treatment Program, it's a group therapy program. He says that sounds good and that should help me. He lets me know my insurance company sent more forms over to be filled out. Of course they did. We go through the forms together and he has his staff fax them over. I say to him, oh I forgot to tell you, they increased my dosage of Zoloft from 50 mg to 100 mg, hopefully that will help me feel better in the meantime. He responds, I hope it does. I go home and sleep for several hours.

Group Therapy Post #3 - One Step at a Time

It's Valentines Day. Fucking happy people in their fucking happy relationships. I choose to believe they are pretending to be happy. I see a couple walking, holding hands, smiling at each other, I want to vomit. Secretly, I choose to believe they hate each other and get into fist fights every night, no one can truly be that happy. I find it easier to judge others and be angry at others than deal with my own issues.

The walls are supposed to be white, they look like they haven't been cleaned in years. The chair I am sitting in is extremely uncomfortable. A butt plug with spikes on it would be more comfortable in my ass than this chair I am sitting in. Maybe these chairs are part of the process, if they make you angry enough and you go postal they commit you. I am sitting in the waiting room of the Psychiatry clinic at the hospital. I am here for the assessment. Am I Bipolar? What if I am? It would explain my crazy mood swings, but I don't go days on end with no sleep. I love sleep! Sometimes I sleep for 16 hours. If I am sleeping I don't have to think about my horrible life. If I am sleeping I don't feel the pain, the sadness. If I am sleeping I don't have to think about the dark gloomy cloud hanging over me. If I am sleeping, I can hide. It's 8:15 am, the assessment doesn't start until 8:30 am. There are a few other people in the waiting room with me. One person in particular stands out. I look over and in the corner sits a man, looks like he is in his late twenties maybe early thirties. He looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept in days. He has dark brown hair and his face is stubbly. He looks miserable, I feel sad for him. 8:30 am finally rolls around and the receptionist pulls back the beige partition that closes the receptionist desk. Looking at the beige partition it just confirms that they haven't done any renovations since 1985. The receptionist says anyone here for the assessment, please come here and sign in. I leap out of my seat and rush to the receptionist desk. I want my name to be first on the list, I want to be out of here as soon as possible. She hands me a clipboard with papers to fill out. When I first called the clinic they told me the assessment would take between 2-3 hours. Looking at how many pages I fill out, I might be here all week. My anxiety is through the roof. I sit back down and nervously wait for my name to be called. I start filling out the paper work.  My brain is running a mile a minute. Why am I here I think to myself? Is that what they are going to ask me? I am here because I am severely depressed all the time, I am stressed out, I have anxiety, I can be super happy and hyper then go back into a deep depression. But why? Why am I like this? I don't fucking know. I guess if I knew I wouldn't be here. Jesus I'm crazy. I really wish I had a giant iced cappuccino right now. When my anxiety is running through me I like to eat and drink unhealthy. I sit in this torture chair and think to myself, I can run away. I don't have to do this. What are they going to do? Probably just increase my anti-depressants. Tell me it's all in my head. 

Jared, please come with me I hear. Fuck it's now or never. I stand up and look at the person who called my name. It's a man, he looks nice, hair a little weird, probably in his 40's. Fuck it, I have nothing to lose, I follow him. He takes me to his office and tells me to have a seat. His office is depressing. It's small, it also looks like it is from 1985 and the lighting is brutal. He says his name is Bob and he is one of the therapists at the clinic. He starts off by asking what brings me here. I reply with I keep going through bad bouts of depression. As the years go on the bouts get worse and last longer. I went to my family doctor and told him I can go from being super depressed to really hyper, happy with a positive outlook on life and that it is mentally exhausting. I said my family doctor felt like that sounded like Bipolar but he isn't an expert in that and advised I should see a psychiatrist. Bob replied with do you go days on end without any sleep? I said no I don't, but all my life I have always slept more that normal. I tell him when I was a baby my Dad told me I slept so much that he would panic and wake me up to feed me. Your not Bipolar if you don't go days on end without sleep, he says. He proceeds to ask me many questions. I am pissed off that he dismissed the Bipolar disorder so quickly. If I'm not Bipolar then what am I? There has to be a reason, why I am like this? 

He asks me what my childhood was like. I tell him I was bullied a lot in school. He asks why I was bullied? I replied with I was a dork and people liked to pick on me. Also people would say I'm weak and call me a faggot. I mention that in gym class some of the boys would take my clothes and soak them in the shower so I would have to walk around in my gym clothes all day. He asks me are you gay? I said yes I am. He asks how do you handle feeling depressed? I replied I normally would hide in my room and sleep. I will sleep anywhere from 10 to 16 hours. When I am not sleeping, I will eat fast food, drink pop, slurpees, iced capps. I will have sex, a lot of sex. He asks you can be quite promiscuous? I said yes.  He asks, I see you put on the form you have HIV? Yes I do, I was diagnosed March 1st 2010. How has that been for you? he asks. It hasn't been easy, I say. I am angry with myself for getting HIV. He asks me what I would like to get out of therapy? I struggle to find an answer. I say I just want to be happy, I want to learn coping mechanisms to deal with the depression, anxiety and stress. He says do you know why you go into bad depressions? I said I don't know, I just do. I hate life most of the time. He asks, have you heard of the saying, don't cry over spilled milk? I reply yes. He asks me what does that mean to you? Don't sweat the small things I say. He asks me have you heard of the saying the river runs deep? Yes I say. He says I think with you, the river runs deep, very deep. He mentions to me that they have a program, call the Evening Treatment Program. It is a group therapy program, it is very intensive, it runs for 18 and a half weeks. It's requires quite a bit of commitment. It looks at your childhood and how it's impacted you. Is this something you would be interested in doing? I said yes if you think it can really help me. He said well let me talk to the Psychiatrist and review your file with her and we will meet with you at 10:30 am? That’s about an hour and a half away so if you like, you can go grab breakfast, just make sure you’re in the waiting room for 10:30 am. I said okay sounds good. I walk out of the office, down the hallway and exit the psychiatric clinic. I let out a huge sigh of relief. I say to myself, good job Jared, I'm glad I did this. Even though I am glad I came here, my anxiety is still through the roof. 

I walk across the street to Tim Horton’s and get a breakfast sandwich and a giant iced capp. I sit down and take my first sip of the iced capp. The sugary, creamy, coffee flavour hits my tongue, slides down my throat. Ahhhh so good. I'm nervous about meeting with the Psychiatrist. I've never met with a Psychiatrist before; I have heard mixed reviews from people about Psychiatrists. It seems sometimes you get someone who cares and sometimes you just get a dick head. I really liked the Bob guy, he seemed like he really cared. In the assessment he asked me if I wanted to stop being promiscuous and have a committed relationship. I looked at him embarrassed and said yes, but I'm too scared. Why would someone want to be with me if I am so messed up? I sit in Tim Horton’s, drinking my iced capp, staring out the window, thinking about my meeting with Bob. What the fuck has brought me here? Seriously, what has happened that I get so depressed? Why does life have to be so fucking hard? 

It's time for me to meet with the Psychiatrist. My heart is ready to jump out of my chest. I'm sitting in the waiting room, waiting for Bob. He shows up and asks me to come with him. I walk behind him down the hallway. We go around the corner and into the office. It's a woman Psychiatrist this relives me. I prefer a woman to a man, except for Bob, there is something about him that makes me feel instantly comfortable with him. The Psychiatrist introduces herself and asks me to take a seat. I go to sit down and I fall into the chair, holy crap this chair is low I say. She starts asking me some of the same questions Bob asked me. Why am I here? What has been going on? What happens when I feel depressed? She asks me about the stress at work and why I am on Short Term Disability leave. She tells me that the 50 mg a day of Zoloft I am on is a really low dose, that we should increase it to 100 mg a day. I am fine with that I say. She tells me to take 75 mg a day for two weeks and then 100 mg a day going forward. She asks me how I found out about the Psychiatric/Therapy clinic. I told her I had an appointment with my family doctor, and how he thought maybe I was Bipolar and he mentioned there was walk in clinics at the U of A and Royal Alex. So I researched it online, came across the U of A one, called and then came in. She asks me questions to figure out if I am Bipolar. She says the same thing as Bob, I don't go days on end with no sleep so it doesn't sound like Bipolar. She agrees with Bob's recommendation, that the Evening Treatment Program would be beneficial for me, to figure out the core issues related to my depression and to work through the feelings. She says she will forward my information to the Evening Treatment Team and they will contact me to setup an appointment to meet with them. I leave the clinic with my prescription of Zoloft and a follow up appointment with Bob next week. I am scared but also looking forward to getting past this depression. I go home exhausted and sleep for several hours.

My Disease is worse than yours

Yesterday I was reading various tweets on Twitter and clicked on a link to an article about HIV. It talked about how HIV isn't a death sentence anymore. It also talked about how HIV is compared to having diabetes - both are considered manageable diseases. In the comments section of the article, people were arguing about how their disease is worse than HIV. Specifically there were people arguing about whether having HIV or Diabetes was worse.

When I was first diagnosed with HIV a few thoughts ran through my head. How bad is this? Am I going to die right away? If I go on medications will I have horrible side effects? Will my friends and family still love me? And so on. The next week I met with my HIV doctor, an infectious disease specialist. The first thing he said to me is, HIV isn't a death sentence, it's like having diabetes. Both are manageable chronic illnesses. Both require daily medications to control the disease. Both can result in death or other illnesses if not managed properly. Type 1 Diabetics have to inject insulin everyday. I get to swallow pills. Both HIV and Type 1 Diabetes have no cure.

According to the Mayo Clinic website, the theory behind Type 1 Diabetes is the immune system destroys insulin producing islet cells. Complications of Type 1 Diabetes include:

• Heart and blood vessel disease
• Neuropathy
• Kidney damage
• Eye Damage
• Foot Damage
• Skin and mouth conditions
• Osteoporosis

According to the Mayo Clinic website, HIV destroys CD4 cells which play a roll in protecting the immune system. When CD4 cells are destroyed, the immune system becomes compromised. Complications include:

• Tuberculosis
• Cytomegalovirus (can cause damage to eyes, digestive tract and more)
• Neuropathy
• Kidney Disease
• Cryptococcal Meningitis
• Kaposi's Sarcoma

You're probably wondering why I am comparing the diseases. The reason I am comparing them, is I want to know, is one disease truly worse than the other? I don't believe so. Both diseases are horrible diseases to have. Both diseases affect quality of life. Both diseases can lead to serious complications and/or death. Looking at the complications, they are quite similar and serious in nature. Both can result in neuropathy, kidney damage and damage to the eyes. Is it fair to say my disease is worse than yours? I don't believe so. Is it fair to say some diseases are more serious than others? Absolutely. At the end of the day, how bad a disease is for someone is for that person to decide. 

I was shocked to see how many people in the comment sections of that article were trying to say "their disease was worse than someone else's, or worse than HIV. I think as human beings, not all, but a lot like to have a pity party. It helps us deal with what is affecting us. I don't agree with saying my disease is worse than yours. I don't know how your disease affects you, I am not you. I only know how my disease affects me. If it's horrible to me, then it's horrible. If your disease is horrible for you, then it's horrible. It's all relative to that person, to their circumstances, their life. 

Instead of judging each other and trying to compete with each other, using are diseases as a game, let's show compassion for each other. Let's try to understand each other and be there for each other.

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.

Group Therapy Post # 2

It's Saturday, I am nervous heading to my doctor's appointment. My anxiety is through the roof. I hate talking about such personal issues. I hate admitting it's a problem. I want to give up. I walk into the doctor's office and check in for my appointment. I sit in the waiting room, staring at the ugly pale pink wall colour, thinking about what I should say. I am shaking my foot up and down trying to control the anxiety, it's not working. Jared, come to room two I hear. I walk into the room. The nurse asks me what I am hear for, I nervously say "depression" in a weak voice. She tells me it's okay, that it takes courage to come in and get help. She closes the door and I wait for the doctor.

I am staring at the poster on the wall, it has pictures of damaged ear drums. It's quite disgusting, it temporarily distracts me from my anxiety. My doctor walks in, he asks me how I am doing. I tell him horrible. I say to him "I feel depressed, I am stressed out and have constant anxiety." I tell him that one moment I can be super happy, very hyper and on top of the world. I will eat healthy, lose weight and be productive. Then the next moment I will hate life, eat really poorly and want to give up. It makes me feel like a crazy person. My doctor responds with "it sounds like you might have bipolar but I am not sure as that is not my area of expertise." "That is what I have been thinking as well, I have been reading up on it and I was wondering if I should see a psychiatrist" I said. He said that might be a good idea and advised me that there are Psychiatry walk in clinics at the U of A hospital and at the Royal Alex hospital. I also told him I can't go back to work, it's too stressful. My blood pressure has been through the roof. A couple of weeks earlier I was at the Endocrinologists office and they took my blood pressure and they were so concerned it was high, that they didn't want me to go back to work for the rest of the day. I asked him if I brought short term disability forms would he fill them out. He said yes. I asked him if he could write me a doctors note stating I need to be off work immediately.  I left the doctors appointment with my note and went straight home.

 As soon as I got home, I pulled out my Macbook and typed in Alberta Health Services in google. I went to the website and starting searching. A couple of hours later (it felt like a billion years later) I think I found what I needed. It was titled Psychiatric Treatment Clinic - U of A. It was the weekend so unfortunately they weren't open. As soon as Monday morning rolled around I gave them a call. They explained I would need to come in for an assessment. They do assessments at 830 am and 1230 pm daily. I went to work and told my manager I need to speak with her in private. We went to a meeting room and I told her I can't handle the stress anymore. I told her I also felt exhausted all the time because of my "chronic illness". She doesn't know that my chronic illness is HIV. I told her I have a doctor's note advising I need to be off work immediately. She told me she understood and hoped I felt better soon and asked me if I would be staying for the day. I said my doctor wants me off immediately but I will stay for a half a day to wrap things up. I went to my desk and wrote up instructions for a certain type of invoices that I am the only one that processes. I changed my voicemail to say I will be out of the office until further notice and put an out of office reply on my e-mail. I left work and felt relief I wouldn't have to be going back for a while. I went home and slept for twelve hours.

Group Therapy Post # 1

I've decided to write about my journey going through group therapy. Participating in group therapy was the hardest thing I have ever done, but it was also the best thing I have ever done. I am going to chronicle my experience from when I decided I needed help, till now.


It's Thursday February 2nd 2012. I am at work, I am sitting at my desk, turned away from my computer. My phone is ringing, I am choosing to ignore it. It's another supplier calling to yell about not being paid. I have a window seat, I am staring out the window at the parking lot, fantasying about how I can escape. I imagine myself taking my chair and smashing it through the window. I am only on the second floor, the drop wouldn't be that bad. I would tuck and roll as I hit the ground. I would stand up and brush myself off and make a mad dash for my car. I would jump in my car and peel out of there, not looking back. I hate my job. Last July we transitioned to a new system, the new system wasn't ready, it's been hell ever since. I don't deal with stress well. It is now seven months later, the flood gates were opened, and we are still dealing with the aftermath. I hate life, I hate my job, I am depressed, stressed out, constant anxiety, I can't keep doing this anymore.

I grab my cell phone and go out to my car, I think about driving off but I realize that isn't rational. I call my doctor's office instead, asking them when the next available appointment is. They tell me this Saturday. "I'll take it I say." They ask me what I need to see the doctor for, I say "depression, stress and anxiety." Last May I went and saw my doctor about having depression and he put me on 50 mg a day of Zoloft. It helped in the beginning, a little bit, but not really. I just want to be happy. Fuck!

It's been quite awhile

Wow, I haven't written a post in over two years. It's been an intense two years, but I truly can say I am a better person. I've changed jobs a few times, went through a group therapy program and more. I've decided I will revive the blog. I was shocked to see how many people have viewed it.

After my last blog post, I quit writing because I felt that writing about having HIV was letting HIV define me as a person. I have realized that HIV doesn't define me as a person. Only I can define me. Yes, HIV is a part of me, but I don't have to let it make me who I am.

I will talk about having HIV in this blog but I will also talk about going through group therapy and my life in general. The group therapy has helped me realize, holding in my thoughts and feelings is unhealthy. I am entitled to my feelings and entitled to express them. I've spent most of my life punishing myself and I am finally realizing I don't deserved to be punished. I have been through a lot of traumatic events in my life. Everyday is a challenge but a challenge I now feel I can face. I hope by writing this blog it will be therapeutic for me and help others as well.