Going on meds for HIV

In my first meeting with my HIV doctor just after I was diagnosed, I asked to go on medications immediately. He said it wasn’t the right time and I should wait — this was when the HIV treatment protocol still advised postponing medications until it’s completely necessary. Since, historically, HIV-suppressing medications used to be highly toxic, experts saw it as more important to postpone the side-effects.

My doctor also pointed out that I, like almost all people with an HIV diagnosis, was an emotional basket case, and that could interfere with my adherence to the medication. Sure enough, in the following months I often slipped in and out of denial about the whole thing, thinking the doctors would soon realize they got my blood work all wrong. I still needed to get acquainted with and accepting of my new disease.

Each positive comrade I met seemed to have waited a different length of time before starting treatment. Some began within a few months of testing positive, while others didn’t need it for years. Considering my lifestyle of fitness, healthy eating and avoiding drugs, cigarettes and alcohol, I imagined my infection would progress at a slower rate too.

Yet over the following months, tests showed my immune system steadily weakening as the viral load increased. I happened to be on an HIV Retreat at Shadowcliff when I got the email from my doctor: T-cell count had fallen below 350, the magic number to start meds. I’d known this was coming, but still I put my head down and began sobbing into my hands. I didn’t understand how some poz persons could live recklessly for years without meds and yet I had to start in a little less than a year. My body was officially losing the battle, and it made my HIV status more real than ever. Luckily, the retreat offered the right support at the right time.

I forced my partner, Luke, to come with me to the doctor’s appointment to decide which medication regimen I would choose. The doctor laid out three of the most popular options, plus the possibility of a medications study. He spent more than an hour answering questions.

My family didn’t want to be left out either, so afterward I called them for their thoughts. They were surprised when I said that I wanted to try the study — I assured them that the study wouldn’t be blind (meaning there was no chance I’d be taking a placebo) and that it was just to test how some new drugs worked in combination with each other. Plus, I’d get paid.

The first pill felt gigantic as I swallowed it down. I shuttered at the thought that this would be part of my daily routine for the rest of my life. I felt an odd sense of shame that if I wouldn’t let this disease kill me, these medications would serve as my punishment for getting infected. Once again the stigma of HIV had my mind racing, and I got choked up.

For the medication study, I was required to have repeated blood draws. The study coordinator happily said they’d already seen some amazing results — by week one my viral load had decreased significantly and my T-cells were coming back. By week two my viral load was undetectable. It was phenomenal: results like that typically take around six months on meds. And as icing on the cake, I had no side-effects. I wanted to cry again, this time for joy.

The regimen was so effective that the doctor recommended sticking to it even after the study’s end, and nearly six years later I’m still on it. Now, swallowing those pills no longer churns up the stigma of HIV, but a reminder that I’m dedicated to doing what’s necessary to stay alive.