Becoming Positive 1995-96

I wasn't always a slut ya know. Before I became positive at the age of 29 I had had about a handful of relationships lasting anywhere from a couple of months to 3 yrs. Things started going to shit when my mom got sick back in early 1995. I had just come back from a Souxie and the Banshee concert down in Detroit. It was a two hour drive back home from the concert and I got home to find a message on my answering machine. The message was from my sister, she basically said that mom was diagnosed with a brain tumor and that they did immediate surgery and that we were all flying down to Jacksonville, FL to the Mayo Clinic the next morning, and to be at her house early. I immediately sat down and cried and then composed myself and started making calls to work and to find someone to take care of my dog ect.

The doctor didn't have good news. Moms tumor was one that would grow back and the chance of survival wasn't good. They wanted to keep her there and start chemo or whatever immediately, but mom said, "Just take me home to die", its all us kids could do to keep from crying. We made arrangements to have her take chemo back home and then my sisters flew with my parents back and my brother and I drove their car back home to Michigan.

During the summer of 95 is when I became infected. I know this cuz I would get tested every year, except this year I didn't go get tested. I only had unprotected sex twice, once with my boyfriend and once with this bisexual biker guy whom I had played with once or twice before. Me and my boyfriend at the time were kinda on again off again basically it only lasted about 6 months. He never wanted me to wear a condom when I fucked him so I thought if he trusts me then I could trust him. He only fucked my once and then I told him not to cum in me. Whether he did or not, I don't know. To this day he still says he's negative.

The bisexual biker guy was hot and I loved when he gave me rides on the back of his big ass motorcycle. I also let him fuck me with out a condom. I figured that since we both lived in the middle of no where and he basically just fucked women that he was a safe bet. I don't know what happen to him, I haven't seen him since I told him that I tested poz.

Mom's health started getting worse and the doctors decided to operate again on Thanksgiving day. The tumor had grown back entirely. They took it out again, but this time there was no alternative, we were going to loose her. I remember one of the nurses asking us, "What nursing home are you going to put her in?", and we told her that we weren't going to put her in a nursing home that we were going to take her home and take care of her ourselves and that is what we did, with the help of visiting nurses.

Mom died on the morning of her birthday in mid January 1996. Right before she died my father said, "Well at least you made it to your birthday and then he ran crying from the bedroom". It was the only time I've ever seen my father cry. My sister went and brought him back and we sat and watched my mom take her last breath and then she was gone. Visiting nurses came and confirmed that she was gone. Then the funeral home was called and they came to pick her up. Their stretcher wouldn't fit in the bedroom so my brother and I had to help the two morticians carry her out into the living room and place on the stretcher.

During the funeral planning it was decided that since I was never going to get married that I should be buried with mom and dad when I died and that we would just get one tombstone with all three of our names on it. I agreed and thats what was done.

Cut to July 1996: Since I missed my hiv test in 95 I decided to go in and get tested. I was honestly shocked when the nurse at the health dept. told me that it came back positive. I left, called in sick and went down to the river and cried.

The same week our tombstone was delivered to the cemetery.