I almost don't have time to write, but I feel compelled. Last night as I opened Bolgger to post, P. appeared at my door, and from then onwards was a blur of kisses and sex and talk and laughter. Absolutely wonderful. I didn't have time to reflect on it. I didn't have time to stop an take it all in, and this morning his alarm rang at 07.30 and again I am sleep deprived, went to work, did a little something, went to a small birthday celebration and then a promotion and am supposed to go to a party tonight. Am exauhsted. i didn't have time to write about my day yesterday: no new counts, a crazy crack-up together with my HIV specialist when I asked him if it was dangerous for me to be around pets (he said, "any normal contact with animals is fine", and then we both caught each other's eye and cracked up completely, I managed to say "that's not legal in the Netherlands... yet", refering to the suggestion of the newly approved paedophiliac party to legalize bestiality. He pretended that that's not what he was thinking, but said he doesn't know which one of us was more red, me or him; he even forgot to weigh me, we were just like two dumb-ass giggling adolescents the rest of the time, and it was hard to put on a straight face when I re-emerged. But then, when the nurse was taking my blood, I was crying, I don't remember crying because of a blood sample since the age of 8 or so, that's because she was poking around, not finding a vein, I was getting stressed, which made my veins retreat even more, and I was recalling what the Russian nurse in Israel said to me before I was diagnosed, when I was testing again why my white cell counts were still low, and no one had recommended a HIV test: she shook her head and clicked her tongue and said that the one entry point I have, which I have known to guide blood-takers to since childhood, just isn't enough, and that was another chilling premonition, like so many eerie coincidences and occurences in retrospect. Like when I was in Laos 2 years ago, already so run down with AIDS and not knowing, and I was so fatigued I had to check into a fancy hotel instead of the usual backpacker haunts because I just couldn't carry on, and there were a bunch of gays there, who had come from attending a HIV conference in Bangkok, and we were all sharing this one small swimming pool, and I remember thinking about most probabaly being surrounded by HIV+ people in this tiny body of water, and knowing that HIV can't be passed this way, but still feeling a bit uncomfortable, clueless that I was in a much worse state than all these guys together.
To go back to "the gift of the present": I came home to rest in between social events because I couldn't drag myself to the gym and besides have to be careful with the stitches where a lump was removed from my leg the day before yesterday, and I lay in bed and felt so desolate, with my schedule full of nice events, a great boyfriend, a lovely place, a great job, even good looks I must admit (I was surprised how good I looked when P. came over last night), and feeling like a piece of muck on somebody's sole, utterly useless and hopeless. How can that be? My doctor gave me a reference to a psychologist in the hospital, and my social worker, whom I also saw yesterday (now that I think of it, every day of mine is quite full), said to relax, to enjoy P., to enjoy this year, not to worry and fret so much, not to plan so much because, if I needed extra proof on top of the HIV that planning is useless, me breaking my arm and not going to Thailand was sufficient reminder. And I have countless other examples. Who doesn't really? All we have to do is open our eyes, and our hearts. But giving up the fear and depression is just, well, terrifying. She told me to accept P. as he is, and I have been doing a better job at that, and not freaked out over the usual things like him saying te quiero instead of te amo and confessing that he might not ever say the latter. And maybe he senses my new acceptance, because he is a lot more caring and gentle than usual, but hey we reunited less than 24 hours ago. He just left a voicemail message wondering how I got home in the rain (I had an unbrella), and that is mighty sweet. And now, all I have to do is a bit of yoga and then get dressed and pretty up and wait for him to pick me up on his bicycle, and dance the night away, and wake up tomorrow and continue with my analysis and go to the gym and meet and make seafood pasta and make love and watch a movie maybe and wake up Sat. and shop and maybe make love again and read and study a bit and get dressed to go to another party. Isn't that wonderful? And what about the darkness, can I just let it go again for a wee bit?