Like most people, I first heard about AIDS in the early 80’s, but the history of HIV and AIDS starts much earlier. Genetic analysis places the origins of HIV-1 between 1910 and 1930 in West Africa, a full half-century before it’s recognition. The story of my father’s battle with the disease began remarkably close to the date of its first recognition as a disease by the CDC in 1981.
My parents separated shortly thereafter, and I remember like
it was yesterday the final moment I heard my father’s voice as a child. At the
time, we lived in a trailer park in Radcliff, Kentucky. Half asleep, I heard
him walk through the door, but the fatigue in my young body prevented me from
fully registering his presence. Had I known it would be the last opportunity to
see him until graduation, I’m convinced I would have forced myself awake, and I
often reflected back on that memory with regret.
I was stunned. I didn’t know how to process the information
at such a young age. I didn’t even fully grasp what it meant. I remember
talking with some of the neighborhood kids about it, which just left me even
more confused.
Later I learned that he was also suffering from severe
bipolar disorder, something that has come to haunt my family. Mental issues
were not unique to us, but were especially devastating in his case. I was told
he often stopped taking his medication, which led to frequent bouts of
homelessness and stints in mental institutions. It also came out in
conversations that he was a heroin user and would call family members after he
had just shot up. That put him squarely in several high risk groups in a region
of the country that was being consumed by the disease.
I first became aware of my father’s HIV diagnosis when I was
in eighth grade in 1989. My mother told me that we started receiving government
benefits related to his condition, though the meager benefits did little to
lift us out the abject poverty in which we found ourselves. Despite his status,
I still thought about living with him and wondered if my situation would be
better if I were.
His illness made me keenly aware of the disease and
everything related to it. I would often cringe when people would spout off
about things that I knew were false. I remember one time in high school, my
favorite teacher gave a comment that made me sick to my stomach. She said she
didn’t understand why the government didn’t just round up all the people with
AIDS and put them on an island to isolate them from the rest of the population.
I can’t express the shock and betrayal I felt at such an
ignorant statement, especially coming from someone I looked up to. By that
time, it was well known HIV was caused by blood and certain bodily fluids and
was actually difficult to transmit, especially compared to other diseases such
as Hepatitis, so I just couldn’t fathom why she would say that. I couldn’t help
but think it was related to many people’s false belief that it was a gay
disease and God’s retribution against gays and drug users.
In my senior year in high school, I had the opportunity to
participate in the North Carolina Mock Trial Competition. I chose the role of
the attorney representing a student who had been kicked out grade school as a
result of testing positive for HIV. Ironically, the same teacher who made those
comments was on the team that coached us, and I took solace in the fact that I
won the case and was named honorable mention for best attorney in the
competition.
Although I didn’t see my father again until I was seventeen,
I did think about him frequently.
My Father’s story, though sadly ended with his death on
Father’s Day 1997 when I was 21, just before protease
inhibitors became ubiquitous and might have been able to extend his
life beyond his early forties. The good news is that for the current generation
of HIV patients, the prognosis is much better. While challenges remain with
respect to access and education, especially in undeveloped regions of the
world, the current cocktail of drugs has allowed many with the means to treat
HIV as a chronic condition instead of a death sentence.
While a cure and an effective vaccine has promised to be just beyond the horizon for quite some time, several breakthroughs have occurred in recent years, including the production of a synthetic antibody known as 3BNC117, which give hope to a possible final chapter on the illness.
Roy Huff, MS, MAEd www.owensage.com
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteThat is great that you found the right doctor. There was such confusion and stigma when AIDS was first reported. I hope today people are well informed and careful.
DeleteErica Mlli has left a new comment on your post "A Brief History of HIV and my Father © Roy Huff...":
ReplyDeleteI'm 15 years old. I was born with HIV my mother passed away because of the HIV infection And I regret why i never met Dr Itua he could have cured my mum for me because as a single mother it was very hard for my mother.
I edited comment because my blog is not a platform to advertise.