In Remembrance
In honor of National AIDS Awareness Day, I think it is important to pay tribute to those we've loved and lost, and to those others have loved and lost--mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, partners/spouses.
I am fortunate in my life to have not lost any of those lovely people I know with HIV/AIDS. Their diagnoses came at a time where being tested "positive" was no longer a death sentence, and I am grateful for that, every day.
I would, however, like to pay tribute to those my aunt, a long-time R.N., has lost--patients and friends--to this horrible pandemic:
"(Aunt's name) is remembering those she cared for who lost their lives to AIDS on National AIDS Awareness Day. Calls to estranged parents to tell them their sons were dying; the sneak preview of the 1st Face-to-Face fashion show in a beloved patient's room (big hairy men in feathered stilettos and pink negligees); watching a football game with a foam-rubber cheese wedge on my head...three hospital beds pushed together, my radiant friend and patient in the middle, family and friends piled around him to grant his wish--one more chance to see Wisconsin play; holding a twenty-year-old's hand as he transitioned. In caring for them, I was forever changed and blessed..."
My heart goes out to each and every family who has lost someone to this, and I pay tribute to these men and women who have died, in the hopes that their memories will be a driving force to search for the cure.
I am fortunate in my life to have not lost any of those lovely people I know with HIV/AIDS. Their diagnoses came at a time where being tested "positive" was no longer a death sentence, and I am grateful for that, every day.
I would, however, like to pay tribute to those my aunt, a long-time R.N., has lost--patients and friends--to this horrible pandemic:
"(Aunt's name) is remembering those she cared for who lost their lives to AIDS on National AIDS Awareness Day. Calls to estranged parents to tell them their sons were dying; the sneak preview of the 1st Face-to-Face fashion show in a beloved patient's room (big hairy men in feathered stilettos and pink negligees); watching a football game with a foam-rubber cheese wedge on my head...three hospital beds pushed together, my radiant friend and patient in the middle, family and friends piled around him to grant his wish--one more chance to see Wisconsin play; holding a twenty-year-old's hand as he transitioned. In caring for them, I was forever changed and blessed..."
My heart goes out to each and every family who has lost someone to this, and I pay tribute to these men and women who have died, in the hopes that their memories will be a driving force to search for the cure.