The first stone

It's been again ages since I wrote, once or twice I started a post and drafted them. The main excuse was my RSI, the secondary one was peripheral neuropathy playing havoc with my brain. I can be all relaxed doing my thing when all of a sudden a shooting painin my shins, or my feet feeling as numb as though they'd been wrapped in ice, or a tingling in my lips and tongue, or invisible spiders crawling of my limbs remind me that on paper I have AIDS and had it for a long time, that I am taking medications whose side effects are unknown but in any case not expected to be anything less than toxic, and that the poz guy on my corridor whom I see once in a while was using a walking stick the last time I saw him. Frankly, PN scares the shit out of me. Add to that the constant threat of lipo, the non-HIV related but still disturbing RSI with the doom's day warnings of my psyotherapist (yet another bulky, tall, bald, removed Dutch man) that if I don't "take care of it" I will not be able to work in a year or two, alone, and you will understand why the emotion which frequents me the most is panic.

And the other emotion is love. Of course, I panic about that too. We still don't know what will happen when P is done with his contract in Sep. The sand is not just trickling in the glass vial but falling rapidly towards the end. I am shit scared. So scared that I do untypical things like sign up for online tator readings 9at leats they are free). And every week I therefore get an interpretation of a card, which is supposed to reflect what I am going through (the wonders of the psychic powers of the internet, or maybe they just spy on my emails and concordance my most frequent vocabulary to custom fit it with a card?). How the mightty have fallen. From a reasonable reasonable person I have become this talkshow-guest like creature. I shamelessly want to tie my man to me, and I will do everything in my power to keep him. Well, everything but clean our shared apartment more regularly, or have sex when I want to sleep, or share a bed when I feel like reading alone. But yes, everything he asked for. Even not have children. Not that I have a choice. Ultimately, he will get to decide whether I leave this world with ancestors or not. I know that even if he wants to be a father with all his heart there is a chance we won't make it, but right now he finds the prospect terrifying! Well so do I. Honestly just the thought of having a screaming little bugger around makes me uncomfortable. But the thought of never having one makes me deeply despaired. So I suppose it comes down to that. On my part that is.

We are very happy, and no matter how deeply anxious I can get when I am alone or reading HIV+ forum (I have give up on the truly obnoxious Ynet forum; the alternative forum, although I don't use it and the professor who replies there is ultra-conservative on HIV transmittion - it almost seems like he has an agenda against young people enjoying a BJ here and there when he is stuck doing overtime and writing publications on weekends - at least does it with a direct and respectful manner. I have had it up to hear with the compliant way that the Ynet forum tiptoes around phobics and biggots), I always light up from within when I see P. He is the sunshine of my life, and my life, unfortunately, is pretty cloudy, although there are some things I deeply enjoy, like books, and some things I want to have, like a dog, but I can't get because everything is so uncertain. The tables could turn at any moment. In a few months I could find myself unable to walk properly. And in a few months if I am lucky the fucking Dutch beauricracy will allow me to be examined by a neurologist. Or maybe not. I had better hope to stay healthy, because the sicker you get, the more obstacles life places in your path. I am now at a point where I can very easily see how people become lost, alienated, addicted and even homeless when they have HIV. It's just so easy. To cast the first stone. People do it every single day and they don't even notice. Our whole system si built around exploiting and abusing the weak. Even in the poz world, the stonger poz prey on the weak, see the AIDS fonds and the hiv verejniging here in the Netehrlands. Money for orgies, cruises and resorts, taken at the expanse of refugees and children. And nobody knows and nobody cares.