Yesterday was World AIDS day, and this would certainly be more appropriate for that occasion, but heck, that is entirely too predictable, and I would never settle for that.
Long ago, and just yesterday it seems, at Bethlehem's St. Luke's Hospital, I was doing a C.P.E. unit (Clinical Pastoral Education). It was a demanding and energizing experience, and one that shaped me in many ways.
A patient, David, on one of my assigned floors had become the target of a lot of conversation. A young man, 26 years old, he was in isolation due to what was the new scourge in our society. He was dying of AIDS complications. A gay man, rejected by his family, whose partner fled due to fear when he was initially diagnosed. David was alone. AIDS was new in that community. Unknown. Scary. Nurses avoided taking care of him. Doctors stayed away. He lay alone. His calls for help were often ignored until they could no longer be so. Some staff refused to enter his room. He was, in my recollection, all anyone talked about.
I remember thinking, I should go see him. But I will admit, I knew so little, and I was scared. I put it off, but there he was, behind that door right across from the nurses station, alone and closed off. So finally, I wrapped myself in whatever courage I could muster, and knocked on the door.
I entered, and this young man with sunken cheeks, was laying in the bed. He had sores on his face and arms. He shivered from the cold. All he wanted was the bedpan.
Putting a patient on the bedpan was not part of my job, but no one answered his call. I knew enough to know that bodily fluids transmitted the disease, but this guy needed my help. So I grabbed the bedpan and helped him. When he was settled, I sat down to talk.
He was charming. He was lonely. He was funny. He was scared. He was gay. He was human. He was alone. He was David. For six days we visited. We talked. I watched as he became a shadow of what he once was. And on one of my overnights on duty, I held his hand as he died.
The fear of the disease he had, the prejudice against who he was profoundly affects me. I assert that no one is outside the love of God, and should therefore, be beyond my caring, our caring. But so many are. So many men and women have died isolated and alone because of who they are. It cannot be so. It must not be so.
Last year, I recall watching a very old “Law & Order”. One that pre-dated Lenny Briscoe. :) Near the end of the episode, the police investigators paid an unofficial visit to one of the female characters (unique to that episode). This also pre-dated the HIPPA laws. As the purpose of the off-line visit was to inform her that she had tested positive for HIV.
ReplyDeleteMy initial reaction to the storyline twist was to scrunch my face, and to think “Why would they do that? That’s dumb writing!”. And then it hit me. I had actually forgotten the negative cachet with which that disease - and those diagnosed with it - had carried. I suppose in some ways we have come a long way.
Fifteen years ago, my wife’s youth theatre group did one of those socially relevant work… which was about AIDS and AIDS survivors. At the time, the amount of local PR received was off-the-charts. Over the years, my wife had expressed occasional interested in re-staging the work. I told her that - in whatever her decision was - I would support it. Both artistically and logistically.
But I also told her not to expect the same community reaction she received the first time around. I am neither a social scientist nor a policy wonk. But it is my impression that over the past decade, AIDS has become more ‘mainstream’. Maybe not with the demographics with those afflicted, but at least in our societal perceptions. I suppose in some ways we have come a long way.