Living with HIV for Three Decades (Essay‪)‬

On Sunday 29th January 1986, while preparing a meal for guests, I received a telephone call from Jon, a friend in London, I hadn't seen for 6 months. I was busy trying to prevent a sauce from separating, while he brought me up to date with what had been happening in his life. He finished by saying that he had received a diagnosis of Kaposi sarcoma the previous Friday. I put that information to the back of my mind. It wasn't until the guests had left, the table was cleared, the dishwasher had been filled, the dogs had had their night time walk and I had finally settled in bed, that the consequences of what he had shared really made their impact on me. I realised that tomorrow I would have to get a test. Work was really hectic; I was opening a new residential unit for multiply and profoundly handicapped young people. As I really didn't believe the test result would be positive, and I had so many other appointments, I decided to take the option of telephoning for the result. It was 2 o'clock in the afternoon when I made the call. I was booked in for a sleep-in that night but at least I had one of my dogs for company. I was able to share the results with my deputy, who was also a personal friend, but I had to call my partner and tell him over the telephone. I didn't get to hug him for almost 24 hours.