Stuart Dummit

It’s Been 18 Years.

It was on this date in 1995 that a doctor whose name I can’t remember told me that I had tested positive for HIV. My T-cell count was very low (176)  and viral load tests were just beginning to break over the horizon. I didn’t plan on living for more that a few years and I expected that a significant amount of that time I would spend immobilized and visibly marked as toxic.

Thanks to the advent of cocktail therapy and, I believe, a massive dose of self realized stubbornness, I have survived. I am healthier today than I was 18 years ago, probably even 20 or 25 years ago. Although I can thank modern medicine for life sustaining drugs I want to say that the American health insurance and health care system has made the road far more difficult than it needs to be. It doesn’t have to be this way. There are politicians and activists and a few progressive minded business people who are trying to change things, but the cluster-fuck of this situation will not make an about face until Americans shed their armor of selfishness, greed and intolerance and realize that there is nothing they need to protect themselves from. Nothing.

All that being said I am thankful that I have been blessed with some amazing friends and a supportive family. I am grateful that I have been able to reap the benefits of the technology of the times and the generosity of good people. And, hey! I’m still alive and as ornery as ever.

One Day Left

Today is my last day of being 52. Tomorrow, by convention, I begin my official stint as a 53 year old. When I was younger, I sometimes would say that I felt older on my birthday, but not so much any more. From time to time a pain here or there reminds me that I’m not a spring chicken, but I certainly do my best to counteract the ravages of time.

I’ve been using the entire week leading up to June 5 to celebrate, even though there really hasn’t been a celebration and the most I expect will be carry out food and a box cake at my mom’s tomorrow afternoon, but that’s okay. I would love to have a boyfriend at some point in my life where we could celebrate in grand fashion and act like fools and do silly and sensuous stuff, but right now, I suppose, it’s not in the cards. Not that i haven’t tried, but maybe getting and having a boyfriend isn’t one of my talents.

I’ve got goals for the coming year, as I usually do, and I, for the most part always work toward them. Sometimes I think I’m not good at achieving goals either. But, as they say, the joy is in the journey. If that’s the case I’m a joyous man.

I hadn’t realized until the last few days that June 5 is also the anniversary of the identification of HIV/AIDS. Not the kind of anniversary that one would expect to celebrate, but, considering I have been POZ for quite a long time, it is difficult not to see some odd and twisted significance in the shared date. I choose not to hide my status, but I don’t go around wearing red ribbons and moaning and groaning about this pain, that ache and what ever infection. I do, however, make a big deal about the cost of treatment. At present I am unemployed and count on the State to help with my medication costs, but for 12 years I worked as a computer analyst for a major hospital and had their best insurance plan and I still ended up spending most of my income on medical co-pays and spend downs. Every three months alone I’d have to cough up $1200 for pills. It’s pretty friggin’ hard to believe that the mark-up on AZT, which has been around since 1964, is explained away as research and development costs. Sorry. We can afford nation building but can’t afford public radio or medicine for our citizens. Just another thing I don’t get.

I sold 2 more t-shirts online last night. Now, if I can only sell about 50 to 100 of them a day for the next 10 years I’ll be set! New designs coming soon - I promise - and new products. Can you say “Customized Baby Bibs?”

So, here I am. A reasonably good looking though some what used and scuffed up single male with a good sense of humor, quite passionate and the ability to play the guitar and sing (and fairly well) at the same time. Expiration date is a little closer, but still far enough in the future that I’m a great deal.

Life is good, but sometimes it’s this living business that gets in the way of my party schedule. Now, if only I had a party schedule……

Tomorrow It Will Have Been 16 Years

On May 17, 1995 I was told I was HIV+. It was mentioned by my doctor that others with similar “numbers” could expect to survive about 90 weeks. I am still alive. I feel good. I still have dreams. Back then, it didn’t make sense to have such aspirations. Now, it does. Treatments are getting better. They aren’t perfect, there is no cure or vaccine, but maybe someday. For now, dream big. Be happy. Do what you love. Don’t let anyone bully you. Be honest with yourself. Be honest with others. Remember that the sky is always perfect. Take pictures of odd things and post them on websites. Love someone unexpectedly. If they don’t love you back, love them anyway. Why? Because you can. If someone tells you that you can’t, tell them that I said that they are wrong. This comes from a guy who was supposed to die 14 years ago.

I love you.

Trying To Make It On My Own

Okay. So, tomorrow will be the 16th anniversary of receiving my diagnosis of HIV+. Wow. It was only a few months later that the doctor told me in a round about way that I would probably live for another two years or so at most. And here I am.

In many ways I think I survived because I didn’t know better. Sure, I knew that it was bad, but I also knew that I didn’t want to cop to the idea that something had the best of me. I pulled myself together, took charge of my life and proceeded to get as healthy as I could. I survived long enough for the medications to get better. Then, I survived the medications. Now, for the most part, I deal with some fatigue and displaced fat. All the more reason to spend as much time in the gym as possible.

Because I decided to fight, I knew I had to get a good job. No more low paying career-less time robbers for me. I wanted to do something. So, I got a job selling computers. From there, I got a job at a hospital supporting computers, and from there I became a system support analyst and spent 11 years being the best damn Help Desk guy I could be. The money wasn’t great, but better than slinging burgers, and there seemed to be a future in it. Then, the entire IT department was outsourced.

Not willing to fire me, I got transferred to the Human Resources department where for about 9 months I scanned documents and sorted files. The money ran out for that position so I was left with a choice: take a job that I was frighteningly over qualified for, a job that I would be forced out of within a few months because the department would have to pay me what I had been making as a computer tech, or convince someone in HR to offer me a severance package.

They wouldn’t call it “severance” because that might indicate that they had actually gotten rid of me. No, they called it “Transition Assistance.” It was a paltry sum of money that would help me transition to a new job someplace else. Unfortunately, there really aren’t any other jobs.

So, on the eve of the anniversary of my diagnosis, I decide to return to my roots as an artist and start a design company and sell t-shirts and coffee mugs.

A few months back I posted on my Facebook account an photo of a painting I had done in the ’80s called “Devil in a Gray Suit.” I actually got comments saying that it would make a great t-shirt. Then there was the picture of an eye, then…well, the list goes on. I realized that I had tons of ideas, all sorts of styles of work, pithy sayings and a love of both t-shirts and coffee. That’s it! Follow your bliss!

The process is slow, but it’s getting better. I’ve sold two shirts and a coffee mug so far. I know that it’s kinda cheeky for me to use Tumblr as a platform for advertising, but the images are cool - at least I think they are - and maybe I’ll get some feedback from my 16 or so followers!

I am also giving guitar lessons, managing my mom’s rental properties and picking lost change off the ground around parking meters.

I love you guys. Now, buy a t-shirt!