Women and HIV/AIDS - Share Your Story

Angela

I came across your web site and I wanted to share my story. I think it is important that people are aware that heterosexual women can and do contract HIV, even if they believe they are not at risk.
I was awaken one morning by the repetitive ringing of the cordless phone. I remember thinking "if it is important, they will leave a message," and then falling back asleep. Later on that afternoon, I got up and proceeded to accomplish my tasks for the day: bill paying and errands. Before I ran out the door, I noticed the flashing light on the cordless phone and checked my messages. After a few ordinary messages, I heard a woman's voice stating she works for South Texas Blood and Tissue Center (STBTC) and that it was very important that I return her phone call today.

I quickly told myself she was trying to ‘recruit' me as a blood donor again, as I had just donated blood a few weeks ago at my place of employment. In fact, I had already received the letter in the mail, just as they had promised, informing me of my blood type and cholesterol and blood sugar levels. I had already done my duty for the year as far as blood donating was concerned.

As I ran my errands that afternoon, the lady's message played over and over again in my head. I began to have an unsettling feeling and I was unsure why. As I hurriedly returned to my apartment, I could hardly wait to pick up the phone and return her call. I recall asking for her by name, although now I cannot even recall what that name was. I heard the woman on the other end of the line say "It is her, you better take this," before they even actually depressed the transfer or hold button on their phone.

The lady picked up the phone and began to ask me a few minor questions, stating that she was trying to ensure she was speaking to the right person. She needed clarification because my work address (where I donated blood) was in San Antonio, Texas and my home address was in Del Rio, Texas. I was quickly relieved and informed her that I travel to San Antonio on the weekends to work, so the information provided was correct. Her tone quickly changed as she started the next conversation with "We don't normally release this information over the phone, however, since you reside in a different county, time is of the essence and we need to bring you into our office for retesting of your blood." I asked her why she needed to retest my blood. "You failed the preliminary test for HIV," she said, after what seemed to be a long pause.

I dropped the phone and began to sob uncontrollably. My then boyfriend, Lupe, ran over to me, took me into his arms and asked me what was wrong. He handed me back the phone; however, I could not tell you a thing the lady told me that afternoon for the remainder of the conversation. The only thoughts running through my head were about Lupe. If I had contracted this horrible disease, had I passed it on to him? We had been dating for two years at this point, and he had been tested for STDs only the year before at a check up. His HIV test was negative and I had not taken myself to get tested.

I called my brother, who is HIV positive, and began sobbing my story to him over the phone. I didn't know where else to turn. He told me if I went back to the STBTC that it could take as long as four weeks to get results back and I would have to pay for it. He directed me then to the San Antonio Aids Foundation (SAAF). He said they could get the results in days and it would only cost me $20. I called the number my brother gave me immediately. The counselor informed me that if we came in the next day, Wednesday, we should have our results back by Friday. We quickly packed our clothes to head to San Antonio, and set off on what seemed to be a very long drive. We arrived at the SAAF the next morning, as soon as the facility opened. A counselor quickly greeted us. The process was explained and we were given paperwork to fill out. We would individually be assigned a number, and all information in regards to the test would be associated with that number. Our names would be kept confidential by using this process.

I entered the phlebotomy room first. The gentleman who drew my blood could sense I was nervous and began making small talk. This was the first time I realized I wasn't entirely sure where my future laid. I was about to start nursing school and now I wasn't so sure this would be an appropriate course of action for me. The technician, I learned through conversation, was a nurse. He shared his positive status with me and told me that nothing should stop me from pursuing my education. He said, "Even if your results come back positive, you will have an illness, you won't be dead."

I had a million things running through my head that same instance. I still had concerns about Lupe and whether or not he would be okay, if in fact my results were positive. I pondered about school. And most of all, I questioned how this could happen to me. I have an older brother who is HIV positive and had educated myself about HIV and AIDS. At that moment I realized that having all the tools and using all of the tools are two separate entities. I was quite wild just a few years earlier. My early twenties were spent out and about – lots of parties, lots of clubs, lots of new people, and I hate to admit it, but a few one night stands that were entered into unprotected. WHAT WAS I THINKING? I wasn't thinking, that was part of the problem. Just being young and dumb with no regards to anything, and I guess, no regard for my life and future.

Lupe came in next, but the nurse would not let me sit with him while his blood was drawn. To this day, I couldn't tell you what he and the nurse talked about. I never asked, assuming he may want to keep it private. We stayed at a friend's house in San Antonio over the next few days while we awaited the results. Those were the longest days of both of our lives. Friday came and we called the SAAF to inquire about our results. My stomach sank as the counselor informed us the person who gives the results to the patients was off that day and would not return until Monday. He did assure us that our results were in. "That doesn't help me if I can't get them," I remember saying out loud. That was the beginning of a long, dark weekend with an abundance of tears that were shed. Lupe and I also shared intense, intimate, and heartfelt conversations. Somewhere, somehow, within this emotional time, Lupe and I agreed to wed, regardless of the outcome of the test. I felt lucky and unlucky all at the same time.

Monday morning came and we called the SAAF once again. The voice on the other end of the phone stated that results cannot be given over the phone and asked that we make an appointment to come in and speak with the counselor. 10:30 a.m. was the next available time, and we would be there, come hell or high water. As we walked in the door, the counselor was waiting at the front desk. He asked Lupe to come in first; I found that very strange, as I had gone in first to have my blood drawn and my number was first. I asked if I could come in and "confidentiality" was all that was said as the door closed. I suppose that was the first time that I realized that I was positive. I believe they called Lupe in first to inform him of his negative results so that when I came out with my positive results, he did not go into shock waiting for his answer.

Where do I go from here? I had no idea where to start or whom to turn to. I returned to Del Rio in a completely different place in my life than the few days earlier when I left. I didn't even know where to start. I did not have health insurance. I had only moved to Del Rio the year before and was working at a small mom and pop owned restaurant that didn't offer benefits. How was I going to pay for a doctor or the medication? Where would I even find a doctor like that in such a small town? What if someone finds out about me? I picked up the phone book and located the local health department. I thought they may be able to help.

The lady that answered the phone listed to my babbling intently. I do not know what she needed to know, but I told her everything. It probably only took a few moments, but to her, it probably dragged on and on. She quickly told me the health department could not help and that Del Rio doesn't really have community services such as those available in San Antonio at the county hospital. She said Del Rio does not even have an infectious disease doctor. She fumbled around and located a number in Eagle Pass. She told me to contact Gustavo De la Cerda at Health Counseling Services, part of the United Medical Center clinic providing counseling, case management, housing funds, transportation services, and medication assistance to HIV positive clients. I quickly hung up and phoned their office. I told the lady who answered the phone that I was given their number by the Del Rio health department and that I needed to speak to Gustavo. I was transferred without delay. Gustavo answered the phone with a jovial "Hello." I remember wondering what he was so happy about as I told my story, once again, with the sound of despair in my voice. Gustavo immediately said "We can help you. No problem. When can you come to Eagle Pass to meet with me?" I told him I would come as soon as he could see me. He was ready right then, so Lupe and I got back into the car and were off to Eagle Pass.

As we sat in front of Gustavo, he appeared to look puzzled. I guess I did not look like a typical HIV positive individual. I think I may have been his first female client. We talked for hours, and of course he was curious as to how I had contracted HIV. He questioned Lupe, but as the test results I held in my hand showed, he was negative. I have never used drugs, with a needle or otherwise, and had never been a "sex worker" (selling sex for money) – his first questions. I had, however, engaged in unprotected sex in my younger days, as well as received multiple tattoos and body piercings (which I learned later poses a very small risk of contracting the virus, unless the equipment is not sterile). Likely culprit: stupidity and alcohol leading to unprotected sex. Not a good combination.

I am living positive, as well as healthy and happy. I am 43 days away from being married to my soul mate Clyde. We have a wonderful life, and I am also finishing my book and my education. Thanks for the opportunity to share my story.

Content last updated January 25, 2008.