Sex and the little City (Beckley)

Dturley1981@yahoo.com 

Over the next few months, I continued to go to work, despite knowing the virus was growing. Every couple of months I’d go back to Charleston to see my physician. Every time, the viral load just kept going up rapidly as the T-cells would gradually go down. In January, the viral load tipped over 100,000, which meant, it was recommended that I start take antiviral medications. After the incident in the summer with Sustiva it was decided not to try that again. This time they put me on Viread, and Trizivir, which one of its ingredients is AZT. The other two are 3TC and Abacavir. I took the medicine as prescribed and the next morning, again, another rash. I called CAMC and told them what was going on, they had me stop the meds right away.
 
Six weeks later I was given a new medicine. This time around, back to the Truvada, but added to that, Kaletra; a protease inhibitor. I had hoped to not start a PI until it was necessary. So far, almost three months later, I’m still going strong with that regimen. So minor side effects, gas, diarrhea, nausea, but nothing to the point I can’t handle it.
 
During the time before I started the meds, between the summer and the Christmas Holidays, I noticed I was much more agitated with people, basically with life in general. I had a short fuse, quick to judge. I was angry with no one in particular, after all, I didn’t and still don’t know who infected me. I slept around. I made the decision to not use protection. I think that’s what bothered me the most. I knew I had it because I had just not been smart enough to make whoever I was with use a condom.
 
Since starting on a regimen that works and now that I actually feel better physically, the mental/emotional stress has subsided. I look at the world in a whole new light. I’m honest and open about my status to whoever asks me.  I inform any potential sexual partner before even a kiss is made. I’m not ashamed of it; the disease, like I thought I might have been. I have joined an advocacy program that is geared towards educating the younger generation of gays, 15 thru 25, about safe sex practices on a national level.
 
dturley1981@yahoo.com
 
I feel that West Virginia has given me a multitude of opportunities while I have lived here. I am very glad that two years ago I made the decision to come here and work for a while.  I regret nothing that has happened since, despite everything that has happened. All this experience has done is make me a stronger person, and that’s something for me to be proud of.
When I was first told that I was positive, my initial reaction was ok, now what? I had studied about the virus since I was in middle school. I came out at 14, I knew the risks involved in sex and the way STDs worked. When my doctor gave me the news, all I could think of was that I had to now take an active role in my health. I didn't cry. I didn't lash out. I said ok, what do we do next?
 
A few days later, two doctors from Infectious Diseases entered my room and told me my viral load, my CD 4 count and my options for treatment here in West Virginia. I could go to CAMC in Charleston, or continue care in Morgantown. Being that I live in Beckley, I chose the closer of the two. The doctors decided to put me on anti-viral medication. I was placed on Truvada and Sustiva, which is now the approved one a day pill; Atripla.
 
I was discharged from Ruby on a Monday, nearly three weeks after my seizures and comatose state. The night before I was released, I had my first panic attack. I thought that it was a heart attack, but discovered later that they feel very similar. It was just in my head. I got back into Beckley mid evening, met my roommate, for the second time, and discussed what all had happened.
 
I went back to work, watching the shows that I missed rehearsing for. Every night taking my meds without ever really thinking about what they were doing. After about a week of this, I woke up one morning with a rash around my arms and mid section. It didn't itch or burn so I just decided it must be a side effect. As the day progressed, so did the rash. By nightfall it was covering most of my upper body. I went to the emergency room. They ER staff looked over all of my prescribed medications and decided to take me off the antidepressant  They gave me a shot of Benadryl and sent me on my way. The following day the rash worsened, but this time accompanied by a minor fever. I was returned to the hospital, this time admitted. This same evening the doctors decided to take me off of the anti- seizure medicine, instead, and see if that was the culprit. In all this time still taking my HIV drugs.
 
Later on that evening, I noticed my skin beginning to burn. I informed the nurse on my floor and suggested being sent to Charleston to receive care since Beckley does not specialize in HIV care. After about an hour and a half of squabbling about it, I left the hospital (against medical advice).  My roommate took me to Charleston. By the time we got there, my temperature had risen to 105 degrees, my blood pressure was beginning to fall as well. I don't remember much of that evening. Again, my roommate informed me I was in and out of consciousness a lot of the evening and the next morning. After several tests and ruling out meningitis again, it was determined that it was in fact an allergic reaction to my HIV medicines themselves.
 
I remember feeling very scared during this second trip to a major hospital. Mostly because the hospital staff asked  my roommate to call my parents and inform them that I was in ICU again and they were not sure of the prognosis. The next 24 hours would be crucial. I woke up the following morning meeting my doctor. He informed me that I more than likely was allergic to the Sustiva. He wanted to keep me another day but I was making a nice recovery. He also wanted me to stay off HIV medicines for awhile, since my counts were in pretty good shape, so was there was not a need to have started them when Ruby initially placed me on them.
 
I went back home to Beckley after I was deemed healthy enough. I returned to my theater company and told them why I had been in a hospital for about a month and not working. They said they had suspected something relative to what had happened. They would let me back into the summer season slowly, but I could take all the time I needed and when I was ready to take the stage again, that I could.
 
Over the next couple of weeks and months I began relearning all I could about HIV. I met with my doctor in Charleston, my caseworker here in Beckley, and a few other people in the area living with HIV. During this time I started working again, slowly stepping back into the productions. When I first did Hatfields and McCoys, I would have panic attack during any of the gun scenes, sometimes two or three an evening. I think it was the idea of any death around me that would set these off. I was told I could avoid the scenes where this occurred.
 
Towards the end of the summer season, after going to my doctors twice and receiving all the vaccines and tests that were needed, he told me my results. My T cell count was great and my viral load was still low. I was in great shape. I had decided I wanted to spend my first year in dealing with all of this in a place I was familiar with, so I decided to stay on for another season touring West Virginia. That way, as an actor I wasn't moving around a lot during my first year.
 
I finished out my summer and began rehearsals for the fall tour. I'd like to say my life hadn't changed much during those first couple of months, but they had. I began feeling more isolated, more aggressive. My body began to ache, first my neck, then under my arms. Towards the beginning of October I went to my checkup, the doctor walked in with a gloomy look on his face. He told me that my viral load had gone up, more than he had expected it to.
 
I drove home from Charleston that day, crying, realizing for the first time in months the gravity of the situation. That I had HIV and that my life would always be different now, that eventually this disease would take my life. I had prayed for the first time in many years that day. I prayed for release of the anguish, the release of the turmoil. It came, just not fast enough.
 
(part 2 of 3) dturley1981@yahoo.com



  

With four weeks to go ‘til this column’s finish, I figured it was time to write about one of my West Virginia experiences. As my contract comes to an end with my current job, I will be moving out of the state. I’ve learned many lessons here and had amazing, great times.  I will take from here many memories.
 
The main thing that I will remember from my West Virginia experience is something that happened to me last summer. I had been in West Virginia for about nine months. I had just finished my first tour with Theatre West Virginia and was working on the educational tour. We had been off for a week between the touring contract and the summer season out at Grandview National Park. I had come down with the flu during my vacation. As my new roommate was moving in, a couple days before work was to begin, I began to feel better. I started to feel a little out of it by the end of that weekend. I don’t remember much of what happened in those 48 hours.
 
I have been told in the time since that I was very incoherent. My roommate at the time, mind you , I had only known for two days, had said that when he woke me up that morning to get ready for work, I put on the camcorder as a shoe. While at the theater I had spilt a can of sprite and was “cleaning” it up with my hand. During the actual rehearsal where I was required to speak, other actors told me that I wasn’t making sense. Words were jumbled. I would be speaking from the top of the page at one point and finish two pages later with things that weren’t even supposed to be said. The director notified my artistic director to find out what might be wrong with me. They sent me to the company doctor. He said I was running a low fever and maybe I should just head home for the rest of the night to recoup. My roommate took me home during our dinner break. When he came back that evening I was making even less sense. He told me how much I said I didn’t want to be an Oompa-Loompa. I do remember watching Charlie and The Chocolate Factory a few days before. As far as remembering these things myself, I have no idea what really happened to myself. As my roommates began to panic, noticing that my bed was completely drenched in sweat, they knew something was very wrong. As I got myself out of bed and entered the living room, my eyes were noticeably dilated.  
 
Moving into the hallway and stairwell I became very violent. I began to throw punches at everyone. Crying out that "I just wanted it all to be done."  When they got me to the stairs, I collapsed and began to seize. The housemates, most of which didn’t know me beyond a day or two began to panic, calling the paramedics. I was rushed to Raleigh General Hospital and was admitted into the ICU. It was discovered there that I had meningitis. I was induced into a coma and transferred to Ruby Memorial in Morgantown. My family was notified and my father came from Illinois to see me. I woke up about three weeks later. The first question on my lips was “Did I miss the Tony’s?” I’m sure my father had no doubt after that, that his son really was gay.
 
I was informed of all that had occurred. All of which came very much as a shock to me, since I couldn’t remember anything  at this point, almost a month later. It was very disorientating to not recall such a large chunk of time.
 
For the next two days, doctors and nurses would come into the room running routine checks on me, filling me in on what they were and used for. After about two days of this, one of the nurses came into the room to draw, yet even, more blood. I asked her,as I usually did, what this days tests were for? I had stumped her. She didn’t know what one of the two was. The first test was a CD4 cell count. The other was a western blot.
 
I, however, did know what these tests were.  As a modern gay male, and sexually active, I was very versed on the subject. I politely asked my nurse to "please get my doctor in there right away."  I did know what they meant.
 
My doctor came in a couple of minutes later. She sat down and had told me the news. I had tested positive for HIV…  (Part one of Three)