 |
 |
 |
|
||
 |
|
 |
|
||
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
|
||
print | e-mail
"Your HIV test came back positive," the counselor told me frankly. Knowing HIV caused AIDS, I tried to grasp the reality of this while hurling it as far away as possible.
Two weeks earlier, in March 1993, the possibility of marriage had prompted me to tell Rick that, although he had remained abstinent, I had not. I had made poor choices. Rick had assured me my past wouldn't hurt our relationship, but now, how could I tell him this news? I decided to retest, just to be sure.
Driving home I thought, This can't be happening. I am only 27 years old. Rick and I are in love and want to marry. Rick is strong and dedicated, but why would he commit to a woman who might be terminally ill? By midnight, my tissue box was empty, yet I struggled with my thoughts through the rest of the night. What a hypocrite. Everyone will reject you. What a failure. You'll die alone, thin and weak. Covered with sores. In pain. Without friends.
By morning, I was still awake, and I knew I would see Rick that night. I can't keep this from him, and why should I, He deserves to know the truth, I thought. Then he'll be gone! That evening, we sat and faced each other. Rick's eyes met mine. I looked down at my hands and tried to speak, but managed only a stifled cry. "What is it?" Rick asked.
"Remember our conversation about me not remaining abstinent?" I sobbed. "I was tested for HIV, and it came back positive." Rick reached over to hug me, but I pulled back. "Please let me hold you," he said. "I don't think you should touch me. You could get this," I said, knowing very little about the virus.
"I can't get it from hugging you," Rick said. He wrapped me in his arms, and we both cried. "I know this will change our relationship," I whispered. "I am ready to commit my life to you," Rick said. "I don't know exactly what the future holds, but I will be here for you. Nothing will change my mind. My love for you is far greater than this."
The retest came back positive. I consulted my doctor for a prognosis. "Your T-cell count is 147," he said. A normal person's is between 800 and 1,200. "You have two weeks to a year to live." The doctor gave me a prescription for AZT--the first drug approved for the treatment of HIV--and I stared at the paper in disbelief. How do I live the rest of my life in two weeks?
Later that night, Rick held me again, and we wept together. We were not expecting such grim news. I didn't even feel sick! But Rick comforted me and gave me the courage to face our reality. Amazingly all of this confirmed Rick's acceptance. "How can you stay with me?" I asked him. I couldn't believe his level of commitment.
"When you told me you were HIV positive, I chose to support you through a terminal illness. I love you, and love is not easily turned away. Our relationship is an incredible gift that has been given to us and no one, no disease, can ever take this from us."
Rick sat by my side as I told my immediate family. When I finished, Rick added, "I love her and will be here for her." Then Rick told his parents and declared his commitment to me. During the next few months, we asked pastors, doctors, and counselors whether or not Rick and I could get married. We always got the same answer. "People with HIV can still get married, but there will be some sexual restrictions."
That May, Rick and I went out to dinner to celebrate the purchase of his first home. After dinner, Rick read to me the famous "Love Chapter." He then got down on his knee, pulled out a ring and proposed. I couldn't speak. I just kept nodding. On October 9, 1993, we married, knowing we might only have a few months together.
Twelve years later we remain happily married. Advances in medicine provided a three-drug therapy referred to as a "cocktail." The therapy keeps me alive but involves changing drugs often. These medicines have severe side effects such as liver damage, nerve damage, fatigue, headache, rash, nausea, and diarrhea. Currently my T-cell count is 522, and the side effects from my latest cocktail are minimal--though no one knows the long-term effect of these drugs.
Rick remains uninfected. He continues to lovingly stand by me as we deal with the side effects of new drugs, the uncertainty of my medical condition, and the sorrow of not having children. We still walk, hold hands, and exchange our deepest thoughts and feelings with each other.
Through it all, the most amazing part has been the fullness of forgiveness and understanding that I have received from my wonderful husband. The difficult part was the struggle to forgive myself. In time I have come to realize that if Rick has been able to let go of my past that I must be willing to let go of the past and forgive myself as well.
Because of Rick's love and the freedom of forgiveness, I am able to live my life without looking back. We are fortunate to have the opportunity to speak to students in schools all around the country, and we are so glad that we are able to help others to make positive choices and decisions for their lives which will help them to protect their futures.
Rick and Barb speak to schools around the country sharing their message on the benefits of abstinence and marriage. Check out their website at www.wise-choices.org
This article was reprinted with permission from Aspire. Live your life. Be free., an abstinence curriculum by Scott Phelps. www.abstinenceandmarriage.com